"If you do not wish to see his torments, stand by his bed when nobody else is by, cross yourself thrice, and repeat the words which his dying sister said to him: 'Don't bury me, Neddy! Little Emma won't cry!'--and then he will die." "How his father will weep! It is his favourite child--he loved him better than the little girl." "How his grandfather will weep! For he loved them both, and they were both his pets." CHAPTER IV. A DIVINE VISITATION. The whole region was pitch black, half the night was over, there was no sign of life anywhere. But slumber was no dweller in _that_ darkness, the terrible voice of God drove it far away from the eyes of men--Heaven was thundering as if it would have smashed this nebulous star of ours here below into fragments. Who could sleep at such a time? One thunderbolt followed hard upon another. Whenever the crashing uproar ceased for an instant one could hear the ringing of bells, which the superstitious peasantry set a-going to charm away the terrifying tempest. At such times every soul of man prays silently in its quiet place of rest. Not a single light is burning in any of the windows, the awakened sleeper lies with fast-closed eyes beneath his coverlet, all his sins rise up before him, all his sins and their punishment--death! In one house, and one house only, nobody has gone to rest. Every living thing there is wakeful, from the master of the house to the watch-dog. It is the squire's house. All its windows are lit up and all its doors are locked. In the room looking out upon the garden, the mother is alone with the sick child. The child is delirious, he is gabbling terrible things, his features wear a different expression every instant. And his mother understands every word of that mortal fever-born nightmare; she guesses at every thought which underlies all those varying expressions of countenance, the sight of whose horrible contortions are enough to make even the heart of a strong man break down. How she must suffer! He who takes poison dies a terrible death, his veins burst asunder one by one; his nerves and muscles strain and crack, his very marrow seems to be on fire. But, oh! what is all that compared to the death of a poisoned soul! A remedy may be found perhaps for bodily venom, but there is no remedy against spiritual venom. The grave may close upon the former, but never upon the latter. Both here and hereafter recollection and reprobation wait upon it. God visits the sins of the fathers upon the children even to the fourth generation. They graft the evil qualities of their blood upon their sons; one generation passes on its wickedness to the next; man is vitiated when he is born; he sins as soon as he is conscious of his existence and he dies accursed. The sweat streamed from the child's temples; for the last three days he has had the mark of death upon him. The doctors say he may live, but if he lives he will be weak-witted.