Moths by Ouida — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

100 MOTHS She had sunk her drowned conscience fathoms deep, and began once more to pity herself for the obstinacy and oddness of the child to whom she had given birth. Why could not the girl be like any others? -. The ether began to move 4n her veins and swim in her head; _ her eyes grew brighter. She went out of her room and along the corridor to the staircase, fastening an autumn rose or two in her breast, taken from the bouquet of her dressing-table. As she glanced down the staircase into the hall where the servants in the ‘ canary-colored liveries of the house were going to and fro, she thought of all the rank and riches of which Felicite was only one trifling portion and symbol, and thought to herself that—after all—any mother would have done asshe had done, and no maid- en surely could need a higher reward for the gift of her inno- cence to the minotaur of a loveless marriage. ‘‘if I had been married like that!” she thought, and felt that she had been cruelly wronged by destiny; if she had been mar- ried like that, how easy it would have been to have become a good woman! What could Vere complain of?—the marriage was perfect in a worldly sense, and in any other sense—did it matter what it was? So the ether whispered to her. | She began to taste the sweet effects of her victory, and to for- get the bitter, as the ether brought its consoling haze over all painful memories, and lent its stimulating brightness to all per- sonal vanities. After all, it was very delightful to go down those stairs, know- ing that when she met all those dear female friends whom she detested, and who detested her, no one could pity her and every one must envy her. She had betrothed her daughter to one of the richest and best-born men in all Europe. Was it not the crown of maternity, as maternity is understood in society? So down she went, and crossed the great vestibule, looking young, fair, and bewitching with the roses in her bosom, and an admirably chosen expression on her face, half glad and half plaintive, and with a flush under her paint that made her look prettier than ever; her eyes sparkled, her smile was all sunshine and sweetness; she pressed the hands of her’ most intimate friends with an eloquent tenderness; she was exquisitely arrayed _ with cascades of old Mechlin falling from her throat to her feet. ‘*A mother only lives to be young again in her child!” she said, softly—and knew that she looked herself no more than twenty years old as she said it. Sergius Zourofi, profuse in delicate compliment to her aloud, said to himself— ** Brava, naughty Dolly! Bis-bis! Will she ever be like you, I wonder? Perhaps. The world makes you all alike after a little while.” ‘He was ready to pay a high price for innocence, because it was a new toy that pleased him. But he never thought that it would last, any more than the bloom lasts on the peach. He had no illusions. Since it would be agreeable to brush it off himself, he was ready to purchase it. ‘ ‘s “a c LF iA CY ie ») -comicbooks Oy tet oe % Les Vie Per Bye x) A at (elo)