She sighed deeply; then she timidly went in after him, and mixed again with the other women.
“Paul, come here!” beckoned his father, who today seemed to fancy himself the master again; and when Paul bent his head to him, he whispered in his ear, “I hear the wine is finished. What does that mean? Will you shame us all?”
“I think there are a few more bottles,” Paul answered.
“Make them last till the vicar comes; but you must also offer a glass to the women. Do you hear?”
“Oh, if only the vicar would come soon,” sighed Paul, and tried hard to fill the glasses only half.
And at last the vicar came. The whole assembly pressed into the room where the dead woman lay in her coffin. The place was bathed in sunshine, and checkered lights which had found their way through the waving linden branches played merrily on the marble-white face.
Paul helped to carry his father’s chair to the head of the coffin, then he withdrew to a quiet corner behind the mourning assembly where he could rest a little, for he was tired with much running about.
But they would not let him rest. “Where is the youngest son?” asked the vicar, who wanted to gather the whole family round him.
“Paul, my child, where are you?” called his father.
Then he had to come forward, and took his place close to the head of the coffin, near his father’s chair.