roads of destiny-第5部分

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　to　his　study　and　sat　him　down　upon　a　little　island　beat　upon　by　a　sea　of　books。

Monsieur　Bril　had　a　conscience。　He　flinched　not　even　at　a　mass　of　manuscript　the　thickness　of　a　finger…length　and　rolled　to　an　incorrigible　curve。　He　broke　the　back　of　the　roll　against　his　knee　and　began　to　read。　He　slighted　nothing；　he　bored　into　the　lump　as　a　worm　into　a　nut；　seeking　for　a　kernel。

Meanwhile；　David　sat；　marooned；　trembling　in　the　spray　of　so　much　literature。　It　roared　in　his　ears。　He　held　no　chart　or　compass　for　voyaging　in　that　sea。　Half　the　world；　he　thought；　must　be　writing　books。

Monsieur　Bril　bored　to　the　last　page　of　the　poems。　Then　he　took　off　his　spectacles；　and　wiped　them　with　his　handkerchief。

〃My　old　friend；　Papineau；　is　well？〃　he　asked。

〃In　the　best　of　health；〃　said　David。

〃How　many　sheep　have　you；　Monsieur　Mignot？〃

〃Three　hundred　and　nine；　when　I　counted　them　yesterday。　The　flock　has　had　ill　fortune。　To　that　number　it　has　decreased　from　eight　hundred　and　fifty。〃

〃You　have　a　wife　and　home；　and　lived　in　comfort。　The　sheep　brought　you　plenty。　You　went　into　the　fields　with　them　and　lived　in　the　keen　air　and　ate　the　sweet　bread　of　contentment。　You　had　but　to　be　vigilant　and　recline　there　upon　nature's　breast；　listening　to　the　whistle　of　the　blackbirds　in　the　grove。　Am　I　right　thus　far？〃

〃It　was　so；〃　said　David。

〃I　have　read　all　your　verses；〃　continued　Monsieur　Bril；　his　eyes　wandering　about　his　sea　of　books　as　if　he　conned　the　horizon　for　a　sail。　〃Look　yonder；　through　that　window；　Monsieur　Mignot；　tell　me　what　you　see　in　that　tree。〃

〃I　see　a　crow；〃　said　David；　looking。

〃There　is　a　bird；〃　said　Monsieur　Bril；　〃that　shall　assist　me　where　I　am　disposed　to　shirk　a　duty。　You　know　that　bird；　Monsieur　Mignot；　he　is　the　philosopher　of　the　air。　He　is　happy　through　submission　to　his　lot。　None　so　merry　or　full…crawed　as　he　with　his　whimsical　eye　and　rollicking　step。　The　fields　yield　him　what　he　desires。　He　never　grieves　that　his　plumage　is　not　gay；　like　the　oriole's。　And　you　have　heard；　Monsieur　Mignot；　the　notes　that　nature　has　given　him？　Is　the　nightingale　any　happier；　do　you　think？〃

David　rose　to　his　feet。　The　crow　cawed　harshly　from　his　tree。

〃I　thank　you；　Monsieur　Bril；〃　he　said；　slowly。　〃There　was　not；　then；　one　nightingale　among　all　those　croaks？〃

〃I　could　not　have　missed　it；〃　said　Monsieur　Bril；　with　a　sigh。　〃I　read　every　word。　Live　your　poetry；　man；　do　not　try　to　write　it　any　more。〃

〃I　thank　you；〃　said　David；　again。　〃And　now　I　will　be　going　back　to　my　sheep。〃

〃If　you　would　dine　with　me；〃　said　the　man　of　books；　〃and　overlook　the　smart　of　it；　I　will　give　you　reasons　at　length。〃

〃No；〃　said　the　poet；　〃I　must　be　back　in　the　fields　cawing　at　my　sheep。〃

Back　along　the　road　to　Vernoy　he　trudged　with　his　poems　under　his　arm。　When　he　reached　his　village　he　turned　into　the　shop　of　one　Zeigler；　a　Jew　out　of　Armenia；　who　sold　anything　that　came　to　his　hand。

〃Friend；〃　said　David；　〃wolves　from　the　forest　harass　my　sheep　on　the　hills。　I　must　purchase　firearms　to　protect　them。　What　have　you？〃

〃A　bad　day；　this；　for　me；　friend　Mignot；〃　said　Zeigler；　spreading　his　hands；　〃for　I　perceive　that　I　must　sell　you　a　weapon　that　will　not　fetch　a　tenth　of　its　value。　Only　last　I　week　I　bought　from　a　peddlar　a　wagon　full　of　goods　that　he　procured　at　a　sale　by　a　/commissionaire/　of　the　crown。　The　sale　was　of　the　/chateau/　and　belongings　of　a　great　lordI　know　not　his　titlewho　has　been　banished　for　conspiracy　against　the　king。　There　are　some　choice　firearms　in　the　lot。　This　pistoloh；　a　weapon　fit　for　a　prince！it　shall　be　only　forty　francs　to　you；　friend　Mignotif　I　lose　ten　by　the　sale。　But　perhaps　an　arquebuse〃

〃This　will　do；〃　said　David；　throwing　the　money　on　the　counter。　〃Is　it　charged？〃

〃I　will　charge　it；〃　said　Zeigler。　〃And；　for　ten　francs　more；　add　a　store　of　powder　and　ball。〃

David　laid　his　pistol　under　his　coat　and　walked　to　his　cottage。　Yvonne　was　not　there。　Of　late　she　had　taken　to　gadding　much　among　the　neighbours。　But　a　fire　was　glowing　in　the　kitchen　stove。　David　opened　the　door　of　it　and　thrust　his　poems　in　upon　the　coals。　As　they　blazed　up　they　made　a　singing；　harsh　sound　in　the　flue。

〃The　song　of　the　crow！〃　said　the　poet。

He　went　up　to　his　attic　room　and　closed　the　door。　So　quiet　was　the　village　that　a　score　of　people　heard　the　roar　of　the　great　pistol。　They　flocked　thither；　and　up　the　stairs　where　the　smoke；　issuing；　drew　their　notice。

The　men　laid　the　body　of　the　poet　upon　his　bed；　awkwardly　arranging　it　to　conceal　the　torn　plumage　of　the　poor　black　crow。　The　women　chattered　in　a　luxury　of　zealous　pity。　Some　of　them　ran　to　tell　Yvonne。

M。　Papineau；　whose　nose　had　brought　him　there　among　the　first；　picked　up　the　weapon　and　ran　his　eye　over　its　silver　mountings　with　a　mingled　air　of　connoisseurship　and　grief。

〃The　arms；〃　he　explained；　aside；　to　the　/cure/；　〃and　crest　of　Monseigneur；　the　Marquis　de　Beaupertuys。〃



II

THE　GUARDIAN　OF　THE　ACCOLADE

Not　the　least　important　of　the　force　of　the　Weymouth　Bank　was　Uncle　Bushrod。　Sixty　years　had　Uncle　Bushrod　given　of　faithful　service　to　the　house　of　Weymouth　as　chattel；　servitor；　and　friend。　Of　the　colour　of　the　mahogany　bank　furniture　was　Uncle　Bushrodthus　dark　was　he　externally；　white　as　the　uninked　pages　of　the　bank　ledgers　was　his　soul。　Eminently　pleasing　to　Uncle　Bushrod　would　the　comparison　have　been；　for　to　him　the　only　institution　in　existence　worth　considering　was　the　Weymouth　Bank；　of　which　he　was　something　between　porter　and　generalissimo…in…charge。

Weymouth　lay；　dreamy　and　umbrageous；　among　the　low　foothills　along　the　brow　of　a　Southern　valley。　Three　banks　there　were　in　Weymouthville。　Two　were　hopeless；　misguided　enterprises；　lacking　the　presence　and　prestige　of　a　Weymouth　to　give　them　glory。　The　third　was　The　Bank；　managed　by　the　Weymouthsand　Uncle　Bushrod。　In　the　old　Weymouth　homesteadthe　red　brick；　white　porticoed　mansion；　the　first　to　your　right　as　you　crossed　Elder　Creek；　coming　into　townlived　Mr。　Robert　Weymouth　（the　president　of　the　bank）；　his　widowed　daughter；　Mrs。　Vesey　called　〃Miss　Letty〃　by　every　oneand　her　two　children；　Nan　and　Guy。　There；　also　in　a　cottage　on　the　grounds；　resided　Uncle　Bushrod　and　Aunt　Malindy；　his　wife。　Mr。　William　Weymouth　（the　cashier　of　the　bank）　lived　in　a　modern；　fine　house　on　the　principal　avenue。

Mr。　Robert　was　a　large；　stout　man；　sixty…two　years　of　age；　with　a　smooth；　plump　face；　long　iron…gray　hair　and　fiery　blue　eyes。　He　was　high…tempered；　kind；　and　generous；　with　a　youthful　smile　and　a　formidable；　stern　voice　that　did　not　always　mean　what　it　sounded　like。　Mr。　William　was　a　milder　man；　correct　in　deportment　and　absorbed　in　business。　The　Weymouths　formed　The　Family　of　Weymouthville；　and　were　looked　up　to；　as　was　their　right　of　heritage。

Uncle　Bushrod　was　the　bank's　trusted　porter；　messenger；　vassal；　and　guardian。　He　carried　a　key　to　the　vault；　just　as　Mr。　Robert　and　Mr。　Williams　did。　Sometimes　there　was　ten；　fifteen；　or　twenty　thousand　dollars　in　sacked　silver　stacked　on　the　vault　floor。　It　was　safe　with　Uncle　Bushrod。　He　was　a　Weymouth　in　heart；　honesty；　and　pride。

Of　late　Uncle　Bushrod　had　not　been　without　worry。　It　was　on　account　of　Marse　Robert。　For　nearly　a　year　Mr。　Robert　had　been　known　to　indulge　in　too　much　drink。　Not　enough；　understand；　to　become　tipsy；　but　the　habit　was　getting　a　hold　upon　him；　and　every　one　was　beginning　to　notice　it。　Half　a　dozen　times　a　day　he　would　leave　the　bank　and　step　around　to　the　Merchants　and　Planters'　Hotel　to　take　a　drink。　Mr。　Roberts'　usual　keen　judgment　and　business　capacity　became　a　little　impaired。　Mr。　William；　a　Weymouth；　but　not　so　rich　in　experience；　tried　to　dam　the　inevitable　backflow　of　the　tide；　but　with　incomplete　success。　The　deposits　in　the　Weymouth　Bank　dropped　from　six　figures　to　five。　Past…due　paper　began　to　accumulate；　owing　to　injudicious　loans。　No　one　cared　to　address　Mr。　Robert　on　the　subject　of　temperance。　Many　of　his　friends　said　that　the　cause　of　it　had　been　the　death　of　his　wife　some　two　years　before。　Others　hesitated　on　account　of　Mr。　Robert's　quick　temper；　which　was　extremely　apt　to　resent　personal　interference　of　such　a　nature。　Miss　Letty　and　the　children　noticed　the　change　and　grieved　about　it。　Uncle　Bushrod　also　worried；　but　he　was　one　of　those　who　would　not　have　dared　to　remonstrate；　although　he　and　Marse　Robert　had　been　raised　almost　as　companions。　But　there　was　a　heavier　shock　coming　to　Uncle　Bushrod　than　that　caused　by　the　bank　president's　toddies　and　juleps。

Mr。　Robert　had　a　passion　for　fishing；　which　he　usually　indulged　whenever　the　season　and　business　permitted。　One　day；　when　reports　had　been　coming　in　relating　to　the　bass　and　perch；　he　announced　his　intention　of　making　a　two　or　three　days'　visit　to　the　lakes。　He　was　going　down；　he　said；　to　Reedy　Lake　with　Judge　Archinard；　an　old　friend。

Now；　Uncle　Bushrod　was　treasurer　of　the　Sons　and　Daughters　of　the　Burning　Bush。　Every　association　he　belonged　to　made　him　treasurer　without　hesitation。　He　stood　AA1　in　coloured　circles。　He　was　understood　among　them　to　be　Mr。　Bushrod　Weymouth；　of　the　Weymouth　Bank。

The　night　following　the　day　on　which　Mr。　Robert　mentioned　his　intended　fishing…trip　the　old　man　woke　up　and　rose　from　his　bed　at　twelve　o'clock；　declaring　he　must　go　down　to　the　bank　and　fetch　the　pass…book　of　the　Sons　and　Daughters；　which　he　had　forgotten　to　bring　home。　The　bookkeeper　had　balanced　it　for　him　that　day；　put　the　cancelled　checks　in　it；　and　snapped　two　elastic　bands　around　it。　He　put　but　one　band　around　other　pass…books。

Aunt　Malindy　objected　to　the　mission　at　so　late　an　hour；　denouncing　it　as　foolish　and　unnecessary；　but　Uncle　Bushrod　was　not　to　be　deflected　from　duty。

〃I　done　told　Sister　Adaline　Hoskins；〃　he　said；　〃to　come　by　here　for　dat　book　to…morrer　mawnin'　at　sebin　o'clock；　for　to　kyar'　it　to　de　meetin'　of　de　bo'd　of　'rangements；　and　dat　book　gwine　to　be　here　when　she　come。〃

So；　Uncle　Bushrod　put　on　his　old　brown　suit；　got　his　thick　hickory　stick；　and　meandered　through　the　almost　deserted　streets　of　Weymouthville。　He　entered　the　bank；　unlocking　the　side　door；　and　found　the　pass…book　where　he　had　left　it；　in　the　little　back　room　used　for　consultations；　where　he　always　hung　his　coat。　Looking　about　casual