a mountain woman(山妇)-第19节
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women； with all those things that make life rich。
For there in the solitude an understand… ing of deep things came to him。
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He who thought never to have a wife grew to know what the joy of it must
be。 He perceived all the subtle rapture of wedded souls。 He learned what
the love of children was； the pride of home； the unselfish ambition for
success that spurs men on。 All the emo… tions passed in procession at night
before him； tricked out in palpable forms。
A burst of girlish tears would dissipate whatever lingering pity Zoe felt
for him。 How often he said that！ With her sensi… tiveness she would be
sure to hate a man who had mortified her。
So he fell to dreaming of her again as moving among happy and
luxurious scenes； exquisitely clothed； with flowers on her bosom and
jewels on her neck； and he saw men loving her； and was glad； and saw her
at last loving the best of them； and told himself in the silence of the night
that it was as he wished。
Yet always； always； from weary week to weary week； he rehearsed the
scenes。 They were his theatre； his opera； his library； his lecture hall。
He rehearsed them again there on the cars。 He never wearied of them。
To be sure； other thoughts had come to him at night。 Much that to most
men seems com… plex and puzzling had grown to appear simple to him。 In
a way his brain had quickened and deepened through the years of solitude。
He had thought out a great many things。 He had read a few good books
and digested them； and the visions in his heart had kept him from being
bitter。
Yet； suddenly confronted with liberty； turned loose like a pastured colt；
without master or rein； he felt only confusion and dismay。 He might be
expected to feel ex… ultation。 He experienced only fright。 It is precisely the
same with the liberated colt。
The train pulled into a bustling station； in which the multitudinous
noises were thrown back again from the arched iron roof。 The relentless
haste of all the people was inexpressibly cruel to the man who looked
from the window wondering whither he would go； and if； among all the
thousands that made up that vast and throbbing city； he would ever find a
friend。
For a moment David longed even for that unmaternal mother who had
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forgotten him in the hour of his distress； but she had been dead for many
years。
The train stopped。 Every one got out。 David forced himself to his feet
and followed。 He had been driven back into the world。 It would have
seemed less terrible to have been driven into a desert。 He walked
toward the great iron gates； seeing the people and hearing the noises
confusedly。
As he entered the space beyond the grat… ing some one caught him by
the arm。 It was a little middle…aged woman in plain clothes； and with sad
gray eyes。
〃Is this David？〃 said she。
He did not speak； but his face answered her。
〃I knew you were coming to…day。 I've waited all these years； David。
You didn't think I believed what you said in that letter did you？ This way；
David； this is the way home。〃
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A Mountain Woman
Two Pioneers
IT was the year of the small…pox。 The Pawnees had died in their cold
tepees by the fifties； the soldiers lay dead in the trenches without the fort；
and many a gay French voyageur； who had thought to go singing down the
Missouri on his fur…laden raft in the springtime； would never again see the
lights of St。 Louis； or the coin of the mighty Choteau company。
It had been a winter of tragedies。 The rigors of the weather and the
scourge of the disease had been fought with Indian charm and with
Catholic prayer。 Both were equally unavailing。 If a man was taken sick
at the fort they put him in a warm room； brought him a jug of water once a
day； and left him to find out what his constitution was worth。 Generally he
re… covered； for the surgeon's supplies had been exhausted early in the year。
But the Indians； in their torment； rushed into the river through the ice； and
returned to roll themselves in their blankets and die in ungroaning
stoicism。
Every one had grown bitter and hard。 The knives of the trappers were
sharp； and not one whit sharper than their tempers。 Some one said that the
friendly Pawnees were conspiring with the Sioux； who were always
treacherous； to sack the settlement。 The trappers doubted this。 They and
the Pawnees had been friends many years； and they had together killed the
Sioux in four famous battles on the Platte。 Yet who knows？ There was
pestilence in the air； and it had somehow got into men's souls as well as
their bodies。
So； at least； Father de Smet said。 He alone did not despair。 He alone
tried neither charm nor curse。 He dressed him an altar in the wilderness；
and he prayed at it but not for impossible things。 When in a day's
journey you come across two lodges of Indians； sixty souls in each； lying
dead and distorted from the plague in their desolate tepees； you do not
pray； if you are a man like Father de Smet。 You go on to the next lodge
where the living yet are； and teach them how to avoid death。
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Besides； when you are young； it is much easier to act than to pray。
When the chil… dren cried for food； Father de Smet took down the rifle
from the wall and went out with it； coming back only when he could feed
the hungry。 There were places where the prairie was black with buffalo；
and the shy deer showed their delicate heads among the leafless willows of
the Papillion。 When they the children were cold； this young man
brought in baskets of buffalo chips from the prairie and built them a fire；
or he hung more skins up at the entrance to the tepees。 If he wanted to
cross a river and had no boat at hand； he leaped the uncertain ice； or； in
clear current； swam； with his clothes on his head in a bundle。
A wonderful traveller for the time was Father de Smet。 Twice he had
gone as far as the land of the Flathead nation； and he could climb
mountain passes as well as any guide of the Rockies。 He had built a dozen
missions； lying all the way from the Colum… bia to the Kaw。 He had
always a jest at his tongue's end； and served it out with as much readiness
as a prayer； and he had； withal； an arm trained to do execution。 Every man
on the plains understood the art of self…preservation。 Even in Cainsville；
over by the council ground of the western tribes； which was quite the most
civilized place for hundreds of miles； life was uncer… tain when the boats
came from St。 Louis with bad whiskey in their holds。 But no one dared
take liberties with the holy father。 The thrust from his shoulder was
straight and sure； and his fist was hard。
Yet it was not the sinner that Father de Smet meant to crush。 He
always supple… mented his acts of physical prowess with that explanation。
It was the sin that he struck at from the shoulder and may not even an
anointed one strike at sin？
Father de Smet could draw a fine line； too； between the things which
were bad in themselves； and the things which were only extrinsically bad。
For example； there were the soups of Mademoiselle Ninon。 Mam'selle
herself was not above reproach； but her soups were。 Mademoiselle Ninon
was the only Parisian thing in the settlement。 And she was certainly to be
avoided which was per… haps the reason that no one avoided her。 It was
four years since she had seen Paris。 She was sixteen then； and she
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followed the for… tunes of a certain adventurer who found it advisable to
sail for Mo
