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There were her darlings, sleeping soundly; but as she entered the room Trudel turned round and flung herself on the other side of the bed, saying: "Go away, go away, do not come near me!" "Whom do you mean, darling?" said mother anxiously. Then Trudel groaned and spoke again in her sleep.
Louis Trudel scarcely knew why he had listened, why he had opened the door and stood looking at the figure in the bed, barely definable in the semi-darkness of the room. If he had meant harm to the helpless man, he had brought no weapon; if he had been curious, there the man was peacefully sleeping! His sick, morbid imagination was so alive, that he scarcely knew what he did.
Hermann was very shy; he hid himself at first and peeped out at the strange girls from corners of the yard or barns, rushing away when they caught sight of him. However Trudel soon coaxed him out, and they all played ball together. Then Hermann and Fritz took the girls round the farm. They went first into the cow-shed; there were fourteen cows, seven calves and a bull.
"But for you, Rosalie?" asked the Cure. "But for me. I saw Louis Trudel raise an iron against Monsieur that day in the shop. It made me nervous I thought he was mad. So I watched. That night I saw a light in the tailor-shop late. I thought it strange. I went over and peeped through the cracks of the shutters. I saw old Louis at the fire with the little cross, red-hot. I knew he meant trouble.
The stars each moment break and change In thousand colours; look on high: Each slender wand points to the sky, Then waves and trembles: lo afar On lonely woods falls many a star!" And all this Trudel had missed. It seemed too great a pity, with that silly old card playing. Spellbound mother and Lotty watched the fairies at their revels, till Lottchen began to shiver.
If Charley had been less engaged with his own thoughts, he would have noticed the curious baleful look in the eyes of the tailor; but he was deeply absorbed in a struggle that had nothing to do with Louis Trudel. The old fever of thirst and desire was upon him. All morning the door of Jolicoeur's saloon was opening and shutting before his mind's eye, and there was a smell of liquor everywhere.
"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.
Again and again he went to the pail of water that stood on the window-sill, and lifting it to his lips, drank deep and full, to quench the wearing thirst. "If he had a soul!" He looked at Louis Trudel, silent and morose, the clammy yellow of a great sickness in his face and hands, but his mind only intent on making a waistcoat and the end of all things very near!
Dorothea Trudel was a worker in flowers, and in time came to have many workers under her, and when she was about thirty-seven years of age, four or five of her workers fell sick. The sickness resisted all treatment, grew worse, appeared to be hopeless.
"Monsieur it is good of you," she answered. For two hours Charley watched her going in and out, whispering directions to Mrs. Flynn, doing household duty, bringing warmth in with her, and leaving light behind her. It was afternoon when he returned to his bench in the tailor-shop, and was received by old Louis Trudel in peevish silence.
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