The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1911-09-28
! THE ROADS
/ OF DESTINY
b Y o. l. E N X I
Copyright by +. L. Nelson

Copyright by r. L. Nelson
| and turned into a puzzle. 1t Joined
with another and a longer road al
right angles David stood uncertain
| for awhile and then sat himself to
rest upon its side.
Whittier those roads led he knew
not. Either way there seemed to lie
And then, lying there, his eye fell
upon brlgh. star, one that he and
Yvonne had named for theirs. That
set him thinking of Yvonne, and he
wondered If he had not been toe
hasty Why should he leave her and
his home because few hot words
had come between them? Was love
SO brittle a thing that jealousy, the
very proof of it, could break 1t?
Mornings always brought cure for
the little heartaches of evening. There
was yet time for him to return home
without any one in the sweetly sleep.
Ing village of Vernoy being the wiser
His heart was Yvonne's; there where
he had lived always he could write his
poems and find his happiness.
David rose, and shook off his unrest
and the wild mood that had tempted
him. He set his face steadfastly back
along the road he had come. By the
time he had retraveled the road to Yer
noy, his desire to rove was gone. lie
passed the sheepfold, and the sheep
scurried, with drumming flutter, at
his late footsteps, warming his heart
by the homey sound. He crept with.
out noise into his little room and lay
there, thankful that his feet had
escaped the distress of new roads that
night.
How we'll he knew woman's heart!
The next evening Yvonne was at the
well in the road where the young
congregated in order that the cure
might have business. The corner of
her eye was engaged in search for
David. albeit her set mouth seemed
unrelenting. He saw the look; braved
the mouth drew from it recantation.
and later. kiss as they walked home
ward together
Three months afterward they were
married. David's father was shrewd
and prosperous. He gave them a wed
ding that was heard of three leagues
away Both the young people were ia
vorites in the village. There was pro
| cession in the streets, a dance on the
green; they had the marionettes and a
ftumbler out from Dreux TO delight the
guests.
Then year, and David's father died
The sheep and the cottage descended to
him. lie already had the seemliest wife
In the village. Yvonne's milk pals and
her brass kettles were bright-ouf!
they blinded you in the sun when you
passed that way. But you must keep
your eyes upon her yard, for her flow
er beds were so neat and gay they re.
stored to you your sight. And you
might hear her sing, aye, as far as the
double chestnut tree above Pere Cru
neau's blacksmith forge.
| But day came when David drew
out paper from long-shut drawer
and began to bite the end of pencil
Spring had come again and touched
his heart Poet he must have been
for now Yvonne was well-nigh forgot
ten This fine new ,oveliness of earth
held him with its witchery and grace
The perfume from her woods and
meadows stirred him strangely. Daily
had h gone forth with his flock, and
brought II safe at night, But now he
stretched himself under the hedge and
pieced words together on his bits OF
paper. The sheep strayed, and the
wolves perceiving that difficult poems
made easy mutton, ventured from the
woods and stole his lambs.
Davids stock of poems grew larger
and his flock smaller. Yvonnes nose
and temper waxed sharp and her tall
blunt Her pans and kettles grew dull
but her eyes had caught their flash
She pointed out to the poet that his
neglect was reducing the flock ant
bringing woe upon the household Da
vid hired a boy to guard the sheep
locked himself in the little room II
the top of the cottage. and wrote
more poems. The boy. being a poe
by nature, but not furnished with ar
outlet In the way of writing, spent his
time In slumber. The wolves lost M
time in discovering that poetry ant
sleep are practically the same; SO the
flock steadily grew smaller. Yvonne's
III temper increased at an equal rate
Sometimes she would stand in tn,
yard and rail at David through hi,
high window. Then you could heaI
her as far as the double chestnut ire,
, above Pere Gruneau's blacksmith
forge.
M. Papineau, the kind, wise, med
ding old notary, saw this, as he saw
everything at which his nose point
ed. He went to David, fortified him
self with great pinch of snuff, an,
! said:
: Friend Mignot. | affixed the sea
I upon the marriage certificate of you
father. 1t would distress me to b
obliged to attest paper signifyin
the bankruptcy OF his son. But that |