The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 123: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

106 REYNOLDS’ WORKS justified in the course he was pursuing, that Stephanie was indeed unfitted to be his wife, and that he had therefore a right to have a mistress. And then, too, he contrasted Augusta with Stephanie, — the former all fervid passion, the latter all girlish love without its fiery sensuality; the former glowing and ardent, the latter only sentimentally tender; the former a companion who could talk upon a thousand things, the latter an inexperienced creature whose very ingenuousness was irksome and whose naiveté was that of a school-girl. Still, as the viscount thus drew his comparison between his mistress and his wife, he could not crush the secret feeling which was in his mind that his con- duct was an injustice, an outrage, and a cruelty toward that affectionate being who he knew would, if necessary, lay down her life to serve him. He was glad when he reached the villa, for he longed in the arms of Augusta to forget all these remorseful and compunctious feelings. Mrs. Chesterfield was half-reclining upon a sofa in the sitting-room when Jules de Chateauneuf made his appearance. She wore an elegant morning-wrapper, somewhat more open at the bosom than was consistent with modesty; the luxuri- ant masses of her raven hair floated over her half-naked shoulders; and her large, dark eyes swam in a delicious languor, as she smilingly welcomed the viscount’s presence. The logs crackled and blazed in the fireplace; the atmos- phere of the apartment was warm and slightly perfumed. Though not yet midday, the appearance of that voluptuous creature and the fragrance which seemed to breathe around her made the hour appear as fitted for the blandishments of love as if night were upon the earth, the curtains were drawn, and the lamps lighted. “You are later than usual, my dear Jules,” said Augusta, as he placed himself on the sofa by her side and encircled her waist with his arm. ‘“ Ah, and I perceive that something has troubled you,’ she added, her taper fingers pushing back the masses of naturally curling hair from over the high forehead of that youthful countenance which was so fine a specimen of masculine beauty. ‘‘ Tell me, dearest Jules,” — and she imprinted a glowing kiss upon his cheek, — “ what is it that has annoyed you? ”’ ‘“ Augusta,’ he replied, with the suddenness of a resolve taken in a moment, “ I cannot lead this life any longer. I Gomichbooks (E(0)