Етюд у багряних тонах
John Ferrier talks with the Prophet.
Thisbeingso,itisimpossiblethatyou,whoprofesstheholycreed,shouldsufferyourdaughtertoviolateit.”
JohnFerriermadenoanswer,butheplayednervouslywithhisriding-whip.
“Uponthisonepointyourwholefaithshallbetested—soithasbeendecidedintheSacredCouncilofFour. Thegirlisyoung,andwewouldnothaveherwedgreyhairs,neitherwouldwedepriveherofallchoice. WeEldershavemanyheifers,29butourchildrenmustalsobeprovided. Stangersonhasason,andDrebberhasason,andeitherofthemwouldgladlywelcomeyourdaughtertotheirhouse. Letherchoosebetweenthem. Theyareyoungandrich,andofthetruefaith. Whatsayyoutothat?”
Ferrierremainedsilentforsomelittletimewithhisbrowsknitted.
“Youwillgiveustime,”hesaidatlast. “Mydaughterisveryyoung—sheisscarceofanagetomarry.”
“Sheshallhaveamonthtochoose,”saidYoung,risingfromhisseat. “Attheendofthattimesheshallgiveheranswer.”
Hewaspassingthroughthedoor,whenheturned,withflushedfaceandflashingeyes. “Itwerebetterforyou,JohnFerrier,”hethundered,“thatyouandshewerenowlyingblanchedskeletonsupontheSierraBlanco,thanthatyoushouldputyourweakwillsagainsttheordersoftheHolyFour!”
Withathreateninggestureofhishand,heturnedfromthedoor,andFerrierheardhisheavystepscrunchingalongtheshinglypath.
