And now there was a great funeral in the village. Up on the high land
in the burying-ground round the church there was on the western side a
burial-place surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. Upright against a
weeping willow stood a broad blue tombstone upon which was hewn the
image of death with many teeth in the skeleton jaws; beneath it one
could read in large letters:
"Ah, death all earthly things devours,
Takes art and knowledge that was ours;
The mortal man at rest here lies--
God give, that blessed he may rise."
It was the burial-place of the former dikemaster Volkert Tedsen; now a
new grave had been dug in which his son, Tede Volkerts, was to be
buried. And now the funeral procession was coming up from the marshes,
a multitude of carriages from all parish villages. Upon the first one
stood the heavy coffin, and the two shining black horses of the
dikemaster's stable drew it up the sandy hill to the high land; their
tails and manes were waving in the sharp spring breeze. The graveyard
round the church was filled with people up to the ramparts; even on the
walled gate boys were perching with little children in their arms; all
wanted to see the burying.
In the house down in the marshes Elke had prepared the funeral meal in
the best parlour and the living-room. Old wine was set on the table in
front of the plates; by the plate of the dikemaster general--for he,
too, was not missing today--and of the pastor there was a bottle of
"Langkork" for each. When everything was ready, she went through the
stable in front of the yard door; she met no one on the way, for the
hired men were at the funeral with two carriages. Here she stood still
and while her mourning clothes were waving in the spring wind, she
watched the last carriages down in the village drive up to the church.
There after a while a great turmoil appeared, which seemed to be
followed by a deadly silence. Elke folded her hands; now they must be
letting the coffin into the grave: "And to dust thou shalt return!"
Inevitably, in a low voice, as if she could have heard them from up
here, she repeated the words. Then her eyes filled with tears, her
hands folded across her breast sank into her lap. "Our Father, who art
in heaven!" she prayed ardently. And when the Lord's prayer was
finished, she stood a long time motionless--she, now the mistress of
this great marsh farm; and thoughts of death and of life began to
struggle within her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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