A köszivü ember fiai. English Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  THE PRAYER AT THE GRAVE.

  The baron's funeral took place a week later. The funeral sermon wasvery long, and the baroness wept through it all with a grief asunaffected as that of any peasant widow in the land.

  "The poor lady is having a good cry once for all," remarked one of thedistinguished attendants at the funeral to his neighbour. "They sayshe was not allowed to shed a tear during her husband's lifetime."

  "The baron was indeed a stern man," answered the other, "and would notsuffer his wife to give way to grief or pain, however severe."

  Meanwhile the lady thus referred to removed her tear-moistenedhandkerchief from her eyes occasionally, and sought to compose herfeatures.

  "She is really a beautiful woman still," whispered one of thegentlemen to the other.

  "For twenty years she has been virtually a widow," was the reply.

  "I doubt whether she remains one another twelve months," observed thefirst speaker.

  The funeral anthem followed at this point. The village church couldboast of an organ, the generous gift of the deceased. The choir sang,in excellent time and tune, one of the most beautiful of funeralmelodies,--from the opera "Nebuchadnezzar," with words, of course,adapted to the occasion. Did the lamented Casimir Baradlay hear thisopera selection sung over his remains? Administrator RideghvAiry gaveutterance to this query as he turned to the gentleman at his side.

  "Didn't he like opera music?" asked the latter.

  "On the contrary, he was always highly incensed when any such musicwas introduced into the church service. Indeed, he went so far as togive express directions in his will that no operatic airs should besung at his funeral."

  "Are you, then, so familiar with his last will and testament?"inquired the other.

  But the administrator merely lowered his eyelids and twirled hismustache, implying thereby that he knew more than he cared to admit.

  The funeral anthem did not close the service. Side by side on thebench near the pulpit sat three priests, who were evidently there fora purpose. When the singing ceased one of them mounted the pulpit.

  "Are they all three going to preach to us?" asked the administrator'scompanion, already becoming restless.

  "No," was the reply; "one of them is the local pastor, who is to offera prayer at the grave."

  "Ah, is he the one whose"--but here the two gentlemen fell towhispering so softly to each other that the concluding words of thesentence could not be overheard.

  "And is the daughter here?" asked one. "Ah, yes, there she is in thatcorner, dressed in brown, her handkerchief in her hand. A lovely girl,truly!"

  "Poor child!" whispered another. And, indeed, she was to be pitied,for she seemed little likely ever to see again the one for whom shewas weeping.

  At length the service came to an end, twelve haiduks, splendidlyattired, raised the magnificent coffin upon their shoulders, theadministrator offered his arm to the widow, and the funeral processionissued from the church and took its way toward the family vault, whereyet one last ceremony was to be observed.

  Upon depositing the remains in their final resting-place, it iscustomary for the local pastor to offer a prayer for the repose of thedeparted soul. Many were curious to see and hear the eccentric priest,Bartholomew LAinghy by name, whose duty it was to perform this office.The old preacher was wont to speak in the pulpit like anAbraham-A -Sancta-Clara, and in the county assembly like Lawrence theClub-bearer. After the third hymn a space was cleared for thepreacher before the entrance to the vault, where he took his standwith bared head, surrounded by the mourners. On each side of hisforehead, which was high and bald, hung a few thin locks of hair; hisface was smoothly shaven, as was then the custom in the Church, andthe heavy eyebrows over the keen, dark eyes gave his countenance alook of resolute determination.

  Folding his hands, he prayed as follows: "O Thou Judge of the livingand of the dead, almighty Father of us all, incline Thine ear to ourpetition. Lo! with much earthly pomp and splendour the ashes of one ofThy servants are borne to the marble sepulchre prepared for theirreception, while in the same hour his soul, naked and trembling,cowers at heaven's portals and sues for admission to paradise. Whatare we poor mortals that we should take our departure from this lifeamid such vain display and idle pomp,--we whose brothers are the wormsand whose mother is the dust beneath our feet? The memory of a singlegood deed lights our path better than the flare of a thousand torches,and the unspoken benison of our neighbours is a fairer ornament forour coffin than all the escutcheons and orders in the world. O Lord,be merciful to those who in their lives have shown no mercy. Inquirenot too sternly of the trembling soul before Thee, 'Who art thou, wholed thee hither, and what say they of thee down yonder?' For to whatbut thine infinite mercy can he appeal who, though great and powerfulin this life, yet stands before Thee stripped of his earthly glory?Called upon to answer Thy dread questions, 'Hast thou given help tothe needy, raised up the fallen, protected the persecuted, lent thineear to those that appealed to thee in despair, wiped away the tears ofthe sorrowing, shown compassion to the oppressed, and repaid love withlove?'--he must answer, 'No.' And when Thou askest him, 'What use hastthou made of the power which I entrusted to thee? Hast thou givenhappiness to those under thy charge? Hast thou built for posterity?Hast thou honestly served thy country, or didst thou render homage tostrange idols?'--what answer can he make, to whom turn for help, withwhat escutcheon or orders shield his breast, whom call upon asintercessor?"

  The priest's face glowed, he seemed to increase in stature, and hishearers could not repress a feeling of awe and dread as they listenedto him.

  "O Lord," he continued, "let justice be tempered with mercy, avert Thyscrutiny from this man's past, and remember only that he walked indarkness here below and saw not Thy face. Weigh not his errors and hisfailings, but ascribe to him good intentions even where he erred.Forgive Thou him in heaven even as those against whom he sinnedforgive him here on earth. Blot out the remembrance of his works,that none may thereby be reminded of him. But if the sinner must atonefor his sins, if Thou art inexorable toward him and wilt not dismisshim unpunished from before Thy throne, then let his atonement be thereturn of his soul, which now sees all things in the clear light ofThy truth, and not as through a glass, darkly,--let his soul, we praythee, return to the earth and take up its abode in his three sons, inorder that the sins of the father may be transformed into virtues inthe sons, and that the soil of his fatherland, which was his tomb aslong as he lived, may now, when his bones rest therein in death,become the cradle in which he shall at last wake to life everlasting.Hear, O Lord, Thy servant's prayer, Amen."

  The closing of the iron portals of the vault terminated the ceremony,and the procession wound its way to the castle, where tables werespread in different rooms for the nobility, the students and thedomestics.

  The old priest, however, lingered behind and, while all the restturned their faces toward the castle, took his daughter by the handand went another way. In vain had a cover been laid for him in thegreat hall of the castle.