’ Gerald was relieved to hear the loud guffaw issuing from the old man’s lips. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. " "Suffer me to proceed," replied the stranger.
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