At the burial, at which one could hardly hear the words of the pastor, for the pattering of the rain on the open umbrellas, there was only a small attendance, although she was honored and loved by the whole neighborhood. For at the same hour that the bells were tolling here, they were also tolling on the mountain in Hoechenbrand, the highest village in the province, for the funeral of Walderjörgli.
For this reason Anton was not present. He had to lead the soldier's association, which had decided to go in a body and pay the last honors to the last Master of Justice.
Among the men with long black mantles, who carried Landolin's wife's coffin, relieving one another from time to time, was one who from the house to the open grave did not move from his post. It was Tobias. In the short time since he had been dismissed from the farm he had grown old fast; and the former crafty expression of his face had disappeared.
As the funeral procession left the church-yard, Cushion-Kate was seen kneeling on her son's grave. She had no umbrella, which even the poorest always has. She was kneeling on the ground, letting the rain pour down upon her red kerchief and her dress, and did not look up.
"I would like to go to her," said Thoma; "I should think she would accept a kind word from us now in our sorrow; but I am afraid she will rave and abuse us here by mother's new-made grave."
As Landolin and Thoma went past, Cushion-Kate's glance followed them, and she clenched her fist. Had she expected the mourners to go to her?
A man struggling with a river's death-bringing waves cries involuntarily for help, even though he is weary of life. Thus, tossed on the waves of sorrow and pain, of hate and revenge, the sad, gloomy soul hearkens for rescue--for a storm dispelling word.
"Why does no one help me?" Landolin had so often thought. Perhaps the poor bereaved woman there now asks, "Why does no one help me?"
Through his deep, dark grief for his wife's death, his child's love shone like a star that he had won back. He looked at Thoma, who walked beside him, and over his sorrow-worn face there flashed, as it were, a swift gleam of joy. He heard indeed what Thoma had said; but he could not think of strangers now.
At home, in the yard, in the living-room, in the chamber, it seemed as though all the lifeless things had been robbed of a nameless something, and as though they all were waiting for the dead to come back and greet them with her cheering smile!