DECISIVE HOURS 13 



" Yes, the boy loves nature," said an old Frenchwoman 

 with a snowy kerchief and cap who was knitting on the 

 balcony near the open window looking out on the sea 

 where the father and son were. " He loves nature, and 

 his heart has eyes for nature. Do not put out his eyes. 

 I can see what he ought to be, Captain Audubon; I have 

 the ' open vision ' sometimes. He ought to paint birds — 

 American birds. Oh, it makes my heart go pitapat to 

 hear him talk of the birds in the magnolia groves of the 

 far-away Louisiana plantations! " 



The old woman had been his governess or teacher, and 

 represented the Audubon household. She had knit and 



t. 



knit since the dark days when her family had been de- 

 stroyed in the Revolution. They called her the " Knitter 

 of Nantes." 



The boy was grateful to the old woman for what she 

 had said. He believed her to be a kind of prophetess, and 

 he went and stood by her chair. 



She let her work fall into her lap. 



He was a picture of beauty as he stood beside her 

 in his velvets. His eyes were aglow as with the light 

 of the hope of the future; his hair was long, and he 

 wore it so during most of his perilous life. He loved 

 his father, but his soul rose in him now, and he must 

 speak. 



"Say on," said the "Knitter of Nantes." "Speak 

 up, and don't be afraid." 



