Moths by Ouida — page 376: what you’re looking at

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

on te nocent as she, or so faithful to the things she deemed her duty. $72 ) MOTHS. Tuileries and scattertng on the earth the withered leaves of tho trees. | “But what you will do isa martyrdom,” she cried, abruptly; ‘‘it is death ten thousand times over! Retreat from the world? you? the world’s idol!” | ‘<T would do more for her if I knew what to do,” She held out her hand to him. ‘You are very noble.” ‘¢f will do what Isay,” he answered simply. She was silent, in the silence of a great amaze—the amaze- ment of a selfish and a corrupt nature at.one that is unselfish and uncorrupted. ‘*You are very noble,” she murmured once more, ‘‘and she is worthy of your heroism, Alas! it will be of no use: you do not | understand my brother’s character, nor what 1s now moving his mind. You do not see that his desire is, not to save his wife from you, but to force her to divorce him.” | ‘‘Tf he were not your brother——’” ‘‘You would curse him as ascoundrel? He is not that, he isa man, too rich, spoiled by the world, and now dominated by a «dangerous woman. Iwill speak to him; I will tell him what you have said; but I have little hope.” She gave him her hand again, her eyes were wet. He rose, bowed and left her. He had done what he could. At that moment Sergius Zouroff, in the smoking-room of the Ganaches, was reading a little letter that had come to him from the chateau of Ruilhieres. It was very short; it said only, ‘‘ Cor- reze has returned to Paris: he has been at Szarisla. Do not let his talent, the trained talent of the stage, deceive you.” Madame Nelaguine an hour later told him of what had been ' said to her in the gardens of the Tuileries. She spoke with an eloquence she could command at will, with an emotion that was rarely visible in her. ‘‘This man is noble,” she said, when she had exhausted all argument and all entreaty, and had won no syllable from him inreply. ‘‘ Have you nonobility to answer his? His sacrifice would be unparalleled, his devotion superb; he will die to the world in the height of his fame, like a king that abdicates in his full glory and youth. Can you not rise for once to his height? Will os prince of our blood be surpassed in generosity by an artist ?” He heard his sister speak in unbroken silence. She was afraid witha great fear. His stormy passions usually spent themselves, often in rage that was too indolent to act, but his silence was ' always as terrible as the silence of the frost at midnight in his own plains, when men were dying in the snow. ‘*You may be the dupe of a comedian’s coup de theatre,” was all that he said when she had ended; ‘‘Ilam not. Tell him so.” Sergius Zouroff knew well, when he looked into his own heart, that he was doing a base thing; he knew well that Vere was as pure of any earthly sin as any earthly creature can be; he did not believe any one of the daughters of men had ever been so in- Gcomicbooks. co