It has been my experience that the longer a moth of these big short-lived subjects remains out of doors, the paler its colours become, and most of them fade rapidly when mounted, if not kept in the dark.  So my Modesta may have been slightly faded, but she could have been several shades paler and yet appeared most beautiful to me.

Her head, shoulders, and abdomen were a lovely dove grey; that soft tan grey, with a warm shade, almost suggestive of pink.  I suppose the reason I thought of this was because at the time two pairs of doves, one on a heap of driftwood overhanging the river, and the other in an apple tree in the Aspy orchard a few rods away, were giving me much trouble, and I had dove grey on my mind.

This same dove grey coloured the basic third of the fore-wings.  Then they were crossed with a band only a little less in width, of rich cinnamon brown.  There was a narrow wavy line of lighter brown, and the remaining third of the wing was paler, but with darker shadings.  These four distinct colour divisions were exquisitely blended, and on the darkest band, near the costa, was a tiny white half moon.  The under sides of the fore-wings were a delicate brownish grey, with heavy flushings of a purplish pink, a most beautiful colour.

The back wings were dove colour near the abdomen, more of a mouse colour around the edges, and beginning strongly at the base, and spreading in lighter shade over the wing, was the same purplish pink of the front under-wing, only much stronger.  Near the abdomen, a little below half the length, and adjoining the grey; each wing had a mark difficult to describe in shape, and of rich blue colour.

The antennae stood up stoutly, and were of dove grey on one side, and white on the other.  The thorax, legs, and under side of the abdomen were more of the mouse grey in colour.  Over the whole moth in strong light, there was an almost intangible flushing of palest purplish pink.  It may have shaded through the fore-wing from beneath, and over the back wing from above.  At any rate, it was there, and so lovely and delicate was the whole colour scheme, it made me feel that I would give much to see a newly emerged male of this species.  In my childhood my mother called this colour aniline red.

I once asked a Chicago importer if he believed that Oriental rug weavers sometimes use these big night moths as colour guides in their weaving.  He said he had heard this, and gave me the freedom of his rarest rugs.  Of course the designs woven into these rugs have a history, and a meaning for those who understand.  There were three, almost priceless, one of which I am quite sure copied its greys, terra cotta, and black shades from Cecropia.