The Road to Paris: A Story of AdventureStephens, Robert Neilson
History
The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure
Stephens, Robert Neilson
Adventure stories; Historical fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
He found himself looking forward to the next day with pleasure. The
bright face and the expressive eyes seemed to draw him back towards St.
Ouen. He could not get them out of his mind. The knowledge of their
proximity gave the whole neighborhood a new life and charm. He no longer
wished to hasten from that neighborhood. Paris no longer lured him as
with irresistible seductions. He found it now quite easy to tarry at the
very threshold of the city.
"Can it be possible," he thought, "that I am falling in love with this
child?"
He knew not that men twice and thrice his age--great men, whose names
sounded through the world of philosophy and letters--had asked
themselves the same question, regarding the same child.
The next morning, Dick visited one or two small shops in St. Denis, and
added to his meagre supply of linen, handkerchiefs, and hosiery.
Considering the small stock of money he had left, this was a piece of
extravagance, but he counted on immediate employment by Mr. Franklin, on
reaching Paris. Such is the confidence of youth.
In the afternoon he hired a boat, this time without a boatman, and rowed
alone to the appointed landing-place. As soon as he had made his boat
fast, he saw his shepherdess approaching down the terrace, herself
carrying the parasol, the footman standing back within hearing distance.
"Good day, Amaryllis!" he called out.
"Good day, Silvius! Follow me to my lodge." She led the way to a rustic
open summer-house veiled by a clump of trees, the smaller ones forming a
semicircle that enclosed a sunlit, grassy space descending gradually
from the summer-house to a row of shrubs that grew along the river.
"This is my lodge," she said, sitting on the bench that ran around the
inside of the structure.
Dick sat on the step at the entrance, near her feet, and said, glancing
at the clear space before them:
"I see your lodge is situated so that you can sit in it and keep your
sheep in sight while they graze."
"Yes, this spot is their favorite pasture, as you can see."
Dick looked at the invisible sheep dotting the clean sward. "So I
perceive. But let me understand. Is this flock yours alone, or are my
sheep also here?"
"Oh, you have left your flock on your own hillside, and have come up the
stream to see me. Neglectful shepherd!"
"When a shepherd neglects his own sheep, and hies to the lodge of a
neighboring shepherdess, you know what it is a sign of," said Dick.
"It is a sign that he likes to gossip."
"No; it is a sign that Cupid is at work."
Amaryllis blushed ever so slightly, but seemed pleased, and did not lose
her composure. "Well, to be sure, that is what invariably occurs between
shepherds and shepherdesses. I suppose there is no way of getting around
it."
"Not when Amaryllis is the shepherdess, by Jupiter!" said Dick, with
genuine enthusiasm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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