Part 19 (1/2)

Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband's eyes; then she laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it and the crucifix and the holy water.

Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, washed him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean s.h.i.+rt on him and his Sunday clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again.

”He'll soon begin to must,” said Barbara.

”The weather's warm.”

”He's very bent: how'll they get him into the coffin?”

”Crack his back.”

Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen's chin and a crucifix and rosary for his hands.

Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his mouth closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers.

”It's done now,” said Barbara, with a deep sigh. ”We'll have just one more gla.s.s and then go to bed.”

”Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!” whined Zalia. ”Don't leave me here alone.”

”It's only,” said Mite, ”that it'll be light early to-morrow and we've had no sleep yet.”

”Come, come,” said Barbara, to comfort her, ”you mustn't take on now.

Zeen has lived his span and has died happily in his bed.”

”Question is, shall we do as well?” said Mite.

”And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they'll cry so!”

”They'll know it in good time,” said Warten.

”And where are they living now?” asked Mite.

”In France, the two oldest ... and there's Miel, the soldier ... it's in their letters, behind the gla.s.s.”

”Give 'em to me,” said Treze. ”I'll make my boy write to-morrow, before he goes to school.”

They were going off.

”And I, who, with this all, don't know where I'm to sleep,” said Warten.

”My old roost, over the goat-house: you'll be wanting that to-night, Zalia?”

Zalia wavered.

”Zalia could come with me,” said Barbara.