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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Neither is the life and experience of Dorothea Trudel an exceptional one. Pastor Blumenhart of Wurtemberg, has had his home crowded for years with patients, and cures occur constantly.
What's more, he's working for Louis Trudel for nothing. He come through the village yesterday; he see Louis old and sick on his bench, and he set down and go to work." "That's good enough for me," said the saddler. "If a man work for the Church for nothing, he is a Christian. If he work for Louis Trudel for nothing, he is a fool first-class or a saint.
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.
When he was tired of watching his friends, he returned to the stable, where he was found innocently munching hay as if nothing had happened. Pigs of course were there too in plenty; they ran about everywhere, grunting and snorting; also geese and chickens. Trudel liked to drive the geese into the water; she was fond of commanding, as her little sister sometimes knew to her cost.
When you turned the corner of the hill, the echoes ceased. It was too queer. The next day Trudel distinguished herself again. Two great cart-loads of swedes arrived that were to be stored up as fodder for the cattle in the winter. Now the joy was to throw these through a hole in the wall into the cellar.
I wouldn't work for Louis Trudel if he give me five dollars a day." "Tiens! the man that work for Louis Trudel work for the Church, for all old Louis makes goes to the Church in the end that is his will. The Notary knows," said Maximilian Cour. "See there, now," interposed Mrs. Flynn, pointing across the street to the tailor-shop.
Yes," he said in a sentimental tone, "I, too, old and tough though I am, I, too, have known love." "Who is she?" asked Trudel eagerly. "Alas! I can never reach her; my old bones are too stiff and unbendable. She is a graceful larch-tree in all the glory of her youth. You may see her yonder!" He sat down and sighed deeply.
"Oh, Rosalie, Rosalie!" cried the old woman, "something's going to happen. M'sieu' Trudel has been queer all evening. I peeped in the key-hole of the shop just now, and " "Yes, yes, I've seen too. Come!" said Rosalie, and going quickly to the door, opened it, and passed through to another room. Here she opened another door, leading into the hall between the shop and the house.
That act of Louis Trudel was cruel and murderous. May God forgive him! I will not say that mademoiselle did well in keeping silent " "God bless the darlin'!" cried Mrs. Flynn. " but I will say that she meant to do a kind act for a man's mortal memory perhaps at the expense of his soul." "For Monsieur to take his injury in silence, to keep it secret, was kind," said the Seigneur.
"I meant board and lodging too," said Louis Trudel with an outburst of eager generosity, for, as it was, he had offered about one-half of what Charley was worth to him. Charley nodded. "Very well, that will do," he said, and took off his coat and went to work. For a long time they worked silently.
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