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She had been compelled to answer many questions, for it was known she was in the tailor's house when Louis Trudel fell down-stairs, but what more was there to tell than that she had run for the Notary, and sent word to the Cure, and that she was present when the tailor died, charging M'sieu' with being an infidel?
Then they all went downstairs joyfully to a cosy tea, which, I need hardly say, they enjoyed very much after their long walk and journey. After tea all fatigue vanished, and the children flew out to inspect the premises for themselves. The farmer had two boys of about the same age as Trudel and Lottchen. Their names were Hermann and Fritz.
Over the door was painted, in straggling letters: "Louis Trudel, Tailor." He looked inside. There, on a low table, bent over his work, with a needle in his hand, sat Louis Trudel the tailor. Hearing footsteps, feeling a shadow, he looked up. Charley started at the look of the shrunken, yellow face; for if ever death had set his seal, it was on that haggard parchment.
Mother and Lottchen shrank back from his rough welcome; but Trudel was soon ordering him about, and did not seem in the least surprised when he obeyed her. His name was Bruno. The farm consisted of a group of buildings; two houses, one for the farm labourers and the maids, the other for guests. There were also large barns which had been newly erected, and a pond.
"I saw, when you were ill." "Yet you never asked!" "I studied it out I knew old Louis Trudel. Also, I saw ma'm'selle nail the cross to the church door. Two and two together in my mind did it. I didn't think Paulette Dubois would tell. I warned her." "She quarrelled with mademoiselle. It was revenge. "She might have been less vindictive. She had had good luck herself lately."
So it struck Louis Trudel, who snatched up a hot iron from the fire and rushed forward with a snarl. So astounded was Charley that he did not stir. He was not prepared for the sudden onslaught. He did not put up his hand even, but stared at the tailor, who, within a foot of him, stopped short with the iron poised. Louis Trudel repented in time.
How does he carry on business without writing letters?" "There was a large stock of everything left by Louis Trudel, and not long ago a commercial traveller was here with everything." "You think he has nothing to hide, then?" "Have not we all something to hide with or without shame?" she asked simply. "You have more sense than any woman in Chaudiere, Mademoiselle."
"The likeness is astonishing" he admired the carriage of his own head in Charley's swift lines "the garment in perfect taste. Form there is nothing like form and proportion in life. It is almost a religion." "My dear friend!" said the Cure, in amazement. "I know when I am in the presence of an artist and his work. Louis Trudel had rule and measure, shears and a needle.
So it struck Louis Trudel, who snatched up a hot iron from the fire and rushed forward with a snarl. So astounded was Charley that he did not stir. He was not prepared for the sudden onslaught. He did not put up his hand even, but stared at the tailor, who, within a foot of him, stopped short with the iron poised. Louis Trudel repented in time.
There by the great fireplace stood Louis Trudel picking up a red-hot cross with a pair of pincers. Grasping the iron firmly just below the arms of the cross, the tailor held it up again. He looked at it with a wild triumph, yet with a malignancy little in keeping with the object he held the holy relic he had stolen from the door of the parish church. The girl gave a low cry of dismay.
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