Roads of Destiny | Page 3

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Etext prepared by John Bickers, [email protected] and
Dagny, [email protected]

ROADS OF DESTINY
by O. Henry

CONTENTS
I. Roads of Destiny II. The Guardian of the Accolade III. The
Discounters of Money IV. The Enchanted Profile V. "Next to Reading
Matter" VI. Art and the Bronco VII. Phoebe VIII. A Double-dyed
Deceiver IX. The Passing of Black Eagle X. A Retrieved Reformation
XI. Cherchez la Femme XII. Friends in San Rosario XIII. The Fourth
in Salvador XIV. The Emancipation of Billy XV. The Enchanted Kiss
XVI. A Departmental Case XVII. The Renaissance at Charleroi XVIII.

On Behalf of the Management XIX. Whistling Dick's Christmas
Stocking XX. The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss XXI. Two
Renegades XXII. The Lonesome Road

ROADS OF DESTINY

I
ROADS OF DESTINY
I go to seek on many roads What is to be. True heart and strong, with
love to light-- Will they not bear me in the fight To order, shun or wield
or mould My Destiny?
/Unpublished Poems of David Mignot/.
The song was over. The words were David's; the air, one of the
countryside. The company about the inn table applauded heartily, for
the young poet paid for the wine. Only the notary, M. Papineau, shook
his head a little at the lines, for he was a man of books, and he had not
drunk with the rest.
David went out into the village street, where the night air drove the
wine vapour from his head. And then he remembered that he and
Yvonne had quarrelled that day, and that he had resolved to leave his
home that night to seek fame and honour in the great world outside.
"When my poems are on every man's tongue," he told himself, in a fine
exhilaration, "she will, perhaps, think of the hard words she spoke this
day."
Except the roisterers in the tavern, the village folk were abed. David
crept softly into his room in the shed of his father's cottage and made a
bundle of his small store of clothing. With this upon a staff, he set his
face outward upon the road that ran from Vernoy.

He passed his father's herd of sheep, huddled in their nightly pen-- the
sheep he herded daily, leaving them to scatter while he wrote verses on
scraps of paper. He saw a light yet shining in Yvonne's window, and a
weakness shook his purpose of a sudden. Perhaps that light meant that
she rued, sleepless, her anger, and that morning might--But, no! His
decision was made. Vernoy was no place for him. Not one soul there
could share his thoughts. Out along that road lay his fate and his future.
Three leagues across the dim, moonlit champaign ran the road, straight
as a ploughman's furrow. It was believed in the village that the road ran
to Paris, at least; and this name the poet whispered often to himself as
he walked. Never so far from Vernoy had David travelled before.

THE LEFT BRANCH
/Three leagues, then, the road ran, and turned into a puzzle. It joined
with another and a larger road at right angles. David stood, uncertain,
for a while, and then took the road to the left./
Upon this more important highway were, imprinted in the dust, wheel
tracks left by the recent passage of some vehicle. Some half an hour
later these traces were verified by the sight of a ponderous carriage
mired in a little brook at the bottom of a steep hill. The driver and
postilions were shouting and tugging at the horses' bridles. On the road
at one side stood a huge, black-clothed man and a slender lady wrapped
in a long, light cloak.
David saw the lack of skill in the efforts of the servants. He quietly
assumed control of the work. He directed the outriders to cease their
clamour at the horses and to exercise their strength upon the wheels.
The driver alone urged the animals with his familiar voice; David
himself heaved a powerful shoulder at the rear of the carriage, and with
one harmonious tug the great