A fit of laughter overcame my son Siegmund. His face became red and serious… He laughed until he was gasping.
My wife shrieked.
A pall-bearer dropped a bottle of whiskey, which broke on the coffin.
The pall-bearer regretfully cast his eyes down.
The relatives were outraged. They were ashamed of my son Siegmund.
Some women cried into genuine lace handkerchiefs.
I was completely still.
The pastor said:
"If one does not how to behave, he should not come to a burial—Amen."
He threw some sand over the broken bottle of whisky. And left.
Proud. Offended. The pastor. Leopold Lehmann.
My son Siegmund cleaned his fingernails.
The Friend