Moths by Ouida — page 199: what you’re looking at

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

MOTHS. i 195 and violet; the next, of pale blue, with a pale blue pennon, and the arms and crown in silver, was the Princess Zouroft’s. ** It is exceedingly pretty,” said Vere, as she stood before the little pavilion. | There were about ten others, all in divers hues, with their pennons fluttering from tall Venetian masts. The pretty booths stood about in a semi-oval where the sward was green and the trees were tall. Servants were bringing in all the fanciful merchandise that was to be for sale on the morrow; a few gen- darmes had been sent to protect the fair during the night; some children, with flying hair and fluttering skirts, and some baby- sailors, were at play on the real wooden horses which the duch- ess had had down from St. Cloud. “It is extremely pretty,” said Vere, courteously, to the pro- jectress, and protectress of it all, and her eyes glanced round the semicircle. Immediately facing hers was a booth of white stripes and rose-color, looped up with great garlands of pink roses; the flag above had no arms, but, instead, had a device in gold, a squirrel cracking nuts, with the motto, ‘‘ Vivent les bra- conniers!? It was a device known to tout Paris, except to Vere; but even she knew the name underneath, which she read in the glow of the late afternoon light— ‘¢Mademoiselle Noisette.” | She stood in the entrance of her own pavilion and saw it. Her face grew very white, and a haughty indignation blazed in her grand, grave eyes. | . Madame Jeanne, standing by, and chattering volubly, with her eyeglasses up to her eyes. saw the look and rejoiced in her soul, | ‘‘ It will be amusing,” she said to herself. ‘‘ How very angry quiet people can be!” Vere, however, disappointed her. She made no scene; she remained still and tranquil, and, in a clear voice, gave a few directions to the servants whe were arranging the contents of her own pavilion, Madame Jeanne felt the pang an archer feels when, ct a great public fete, the arrow aimed for the heart of the goid misses Its mark and strikes the dust. It was to be chagrined like this that she, Duchesse de Sonnaz, and daughter of the mighty Maison de Merilhac, had stretched her Second Empire laxities so far as to permit on the grounds ot her own Kermesse the Free Lances of the Paris theaters! Nothing was said; nothing was done; Madame Jeanne felt cheated, and her Kermesse seemed already shorn of its splendor. Vere remained very calm, very still; she did not move outside the curtains of her own azure nest. ‘¢ Guilt hath pavilions and no secrecy,” murmured the Princess Nadine, changing the well-known line by a monosyllable, as ske glanced across at the pink-and-white booth with its peccant squirrel. But she murmured it only in the ear of a tried and trusty old friend, the Count Schondorff, who for more years than ghe would have cared to count had been her shadow and her €o mm G 100 .S: