They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far and wide into the still night.
Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went outside:
“People ... he’s with the Lord.”
It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening indoors: they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead.
“Stone-dead,” said Barbara.
“Hopped the twig!” said Warten.
“Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!” screamed Mite; and she snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and carried them outside.
First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale.
Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor to shave Zeen’s beard.
“And the children! The children who are not here!” moaned Zalia. “He ought to have seen the children!”