Moths by Ouida — page 237: what you’re looking at

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

MOTHS. gor and the ponies went away at a trot down toward the valley, whilst beyond, the last brightness of daylight was shining above the gray-white sheet of the Carl Hisfeld that rose in view. Correze stood on the edge of the wilderness of timber, lying in disorder in the dry bed of the river, awaiting the loosening of the ~ White Brook floods to float them to the Traun. Some birds be- gan singing in the wood, as the sun sat behind the glacier. ‘* They are singing in my heart, too,” thought Correze, “‘ but must not listen tothem. Heine knew the caprice and the iz<: edy of fate. He wrought no miracle to make the pine and th. palm-tree meet.” ete days that followed dragged slowly ower the head of ere, Ischl, in its nook between the hills, has always a certain sad- ness about it, and to her it seemed grown gray and very dull. The glaciers of Dachstein and Thorstein gleamed whitely afar off, and her thoughts were with the hunters underneath those buttresses of ice in the haunts of the steinbock and the vulture. The perpetual clatter of the duchess’ voluble tongue, and the chatter of society that was always about her—even here—in the heart of the Salzkammergut—wearied her and irritated her more than usual. She felt a painful longing for that soft deep voice of OCorreze, which to her never spoke a commonplace or a compliment, for the quick instinctive sympathy which he gave her without alarming her loyalty or wounding her pride. “You are very dull, Vera,” said the duchess, impatiently at length. 7 am never very gay,” said Vere, coldly. ‘* You knew that when you offered to accompany me.” ‘Your husband wished us to ke together,” said Madame Jeanne, a little angrily. “ite ‘‘ You are very kind—to my husband—to so study his wishes,” said Vere, with a certain challenge in her glance. But the duchess did not take up the challenge. ‘‘Correze has told her something,” she thought. To quarrel with Vere was the last thing she wished to do. She laughed carelessly, said something pleasant, and affected to be charmed with Ischl. They went to the Imperial villa, rode a great deal, wez2 ccurted by the notabilities as befitted one of the loveliest ana one of the wittiest women of the time; and the five days slipped away, as the Traun water slid under its bridges and over its fas. Vere began. to listen wistfully for the tidings of ihe return of the Kaiser’s hunting-party.. One morning at breakfast she heard that the Emperor had come back at daybreak. But of Correze there was nothing said. Had it been any other memory than that of Correze, she would nave been disgusted and angered with herself at his occupation of her thoughts, but he so long had been to her an ideal, an ab- straction, an embodiment of ail high and heroic things, a living noem, that his absorption of her mind and memory had no alarm cor her. He was still an ideal figure—now, when he was lost in she mists of the ice-fields of the Dachstein, as in the winter ~~ . cS Ceo) -comicboo 4 * ¢ Wil ym we YEN : 7 ¢ Wt i. : % ‘ h” ‘ hi Here