XI

Leaving a note on her door to tell our landlady that business would

keep me away an indefinite time, I got out at the front gate

unobserved, and with a sweet dignity that charmed me with myself walked

away under a bewitching parasol, well veiled.

I knew where to find my two sportsmen. A few hundred paces put the

town and an open field at my back; a few more down a bushy lane brought

me where a dense wood overhung both sides of the narrow way, and the

damp air was full of the smell of penny-royal and of creek sands. From

here I proposed to saunter down through the woods to the creek, locate

my fishermen, and draw them my way by cries of distress.

On their reaching my side my story, told through my veil and between

meanings and clingings, was to be that while on a journey in my own

coach, a part of its running-gear having broken, I had sent it on to be

mended; that through love of trees and wild flowers I had ventured to

stay alone meantime among them, and that a snake had bitten me on the

ankle. I should describe a harmless one but insist I was poisoned, and

yet refuse to show the wound or be borne back to the road, or to let

either man stay with me alone while the other went for a doctor, or to

drink their whiskey for a cure. On getting back to the road--with the

two fellows for crutches--I should send both to town for my coach,

keeping with me their tackle and fish. Then I should get myself and my

spoils back to our dwelling as best I could and--await the issue. If

this poor performance had so come off--but see what occurred instead!

I had shut my parasol and moved into hiding behind some wild vines to

mop my face, when near by on the farther side of the way came slyly

into view a negro and negress. They were in haste to cross the road

yet quite as wishful to cross unseen. One, in home-spun gown and

sunbonnet, was ungainly, shoeless, bird-heeled, fan-toed, ragged, and

would have been painfully ugly but for a grotesqueness almost winsome.

"She's a field-hand," was my thought.

The other, in very clean shirt, trousers, and shoes, looking ten years

younger and hardly full-grown, was shapely and handsome. "That boy,"

thought I, "is a house-servant. The two don't belong in the same

harness. And yet I'd bet a new hat they're runaways."

Now they gathered courage to come over. With a childish parade of

unconcern and with all their glances up and down the road, they came,

and were within seven steps of me before they knew I was near. I shall

never forget the ludicrous horror that flashed white and black from the

eyes in that sun-bonnet, nor the snort with which its owner, like a

frightened heifer, crashed off a dozen yards into the brush and as

suddenly stopped.

"Good morning, boy," I said to the other, who had gulped with

consternation, yet stood still.

"Good mawnin', mist'ess."

The feminine title came luckily. I had forgotten my disguise, so

disarmed was I by the refined dignity of the dark speaker's mellow

voice and graceful modesty. After all, my prejudices were Southern. I

had rarely seen negroes, at worship, work, or play, without an inward

groan for some way--righteous way--by which our land might be clean rid

of them. But here, in my silly disguise, confronting this unmixed

young African so manifestly superior to millions of our human swarm

white or black, my unsympathetic generalizations were clear put to

shame. The customary challenge, "Who' d'you belong to?" failed on my

lips, and while those soft eyes passed over me from bonnet to mitts I

gave my head as winsome a tilt as I could and inquired: "What is your

name?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you; what is it?"

"I'm name', eh, Euonymus; yass'm."

"Oh, boy, where'd your mother get that name?"

"Why, mist'ess, ain't dat a Bible name?"

"Oh, yes," I said, remembering Onesimus. With my parasol I indicated

the other figure, sunbonneted, motionless, gazing on us through the

brush.

"Has she a Bible name too?"

"Yass'm; Robelia."

Robelia brought chin and shoulder together and sniggered. "Euonymus,"

I asked, "have you seen two young gentlemen, fishing, anywhere near

here?"

"Yass'm, dey out 'pon a san'bar 'bout two hund'ed yards up de creek."

The black finger that pointed was as clean as mine.

"You and this woman," thought I again, "are dodging those men." With a

smile as of curiosity I looked my slim informant over once more. I had

never seen slavery so flattered yet so condemned.

All at once I said in my heart: "You, my lad, I'll help to escape!"

But when I looked again at the absurd Robelia I saw I must help both

alike.

"Euonymus, did you ever drive a lady's coach?"

"Me? No'm, I never drove no lady's coach."

"Well, boy, I'm travelling--in my own outfit."

"Yass'm."

"But I hire a new driver and span at each town and send the others

back."

"Yass'm," said Euonymus. Robelia came nearer.

"My coach is now at a livery-stable in town, and I want a driver and a

lady's maid."

"Yass'm."

"I'd prefer free colored people. They could come with me as far as

they pleased, and I shouldn't be responsible for their return."

"Yass'm," said Euonymus, edging away from Robelia's nudge.

"Now, Euonymus, I judge by your being out here in the woods this time

of day, idle, that you're both free, you and your sister, h'm?"

"Ro'--Robelia an' me? Eh, ye'--yass'm, as you may say, in a manneh,

yass'm."

"She is your sister, is she not?"

"Yass'm," clapped in Robelia, with a happy grin, and Euonymus quietly

added:

"Us full sisteh an' brotheh--in a manneh."

"Umh'm. Could you drive my coach, Euonymus?"

"What, me, mist'ess? Why, eh, o' co'se I kin drive _some_, but--" The

soft, honest eyes, seeking Robelia's, betrayed a mental conflict. I

guessed there were more than two runaways, and that Euonymus was

debating whether for Robelia's sake to go with me and leave the others

behind, or not.

"You kin drive de coach," blurted the one-ideaed Robelia. "You knows

you kin."

"No, mi'ss, takin' all roads as dey come I ain't no ways fitt'n'; no'm."

"Well, daddy's fitt'n'!" said the sun-bonnet.

Euonymus flinched, yet smilingly said:

"Yass, da's so, but I ain't daddy, no mo'n you is."

"Well, us kin go fetch him--in th'ee shakes."

Euonymus flinched again, yet showed generalship. "Yass'm, us kin go ax

daddy."

The Flower of the Chapdelaines · 第 28 / 84 题