A distant rumbling waked her. When she opened her eyes, she again saw
one carriage after another drive rapidly down from the marshes and up
to her farm. She straightened herself, looked ahead sharply once more
and then went back, as she had come, through the stable into the
solemnly ordered living-rooms. Here too there was nobody; only through
the wall could she hear the bustle of the maids in the kitchen. The
festive board looked so quiet and deserted; the mirror between the
windows had been covered with white scarfs, and likewise the brass
knobs of the stove: there was nothing bright any more in the room. Elke
saw that the doors of the alcove-bed, in which her father had slept his
last sleep were open and she went up and closed them fast. Almost
absently she read the proverb that was written on them in golden
letters between roses and carnations:
"If thou thy day's work dost aright,
Then sleep comes by itself at night."
That was from her grandfather! She cast a glance at the sideboard; it
was almost empty. But through the glass doors she could still see the
cut-glass goblet which her father, as he used to tell with relish, had
once won as a prize when riding the ring in his youth. She took it out
and set it in front of the dikemaster general's plate. Then she went to
the window, for already she heard the carriages drive up the hill; one
after the other they stopped in front of her house, and, more briskly
than they had come, the guests leaped from their seats to the ground.
Rubbing their hands and chattering, all crowded into the room; it
was not long before they sat down at the festive board, where the
well-prepared dishes were steaming--in the best parlor the dikemaster
general and the pastor. And noise and loud talking ran along the table,
as if death had never spread its awful stillness here. Silent, with her
eyes upon her guests, Elke walked round the tables with her maids, to
see that nothing was missing at the funeral meal. Hauke Haien, too, sat
in the living-room with Ole Peters and other small landowners.
When the meal was over, the white pipes were taken out of the corner
and lighted, and Elke was again busy offering the filled coffee cups to
her guests; for there was no economy in coffee, either, on this day. In
the living-room, at the desk of the man just buried, the dikemaster
general stood talking with the pastor and the white-haired dike
overseer Jewe Manners.
"Well, gentlemen," said the former; "we have buried the old dikemaster
with honor; but where shall we get the new one? I think, Manners, you
will have to make up your mind to accept this dignity."
Old Manners smiled and lifted his little black velvet cap from his
white hair: "Mr. Dikemaster General," he said, "the game would be too
short then; when the deceased Tede Volkers was made dikemaster I was
made overseer and have been now for forty years."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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