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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people," said Virginie; and she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the light. The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen's head. Treze took the blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp.
All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: "Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High....
"Zalia could come with me," said Barbara. "And leave the house alone? And who's to go to the priest to-morrow? And to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you get into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why not?" "Alla , come, Fietje; mother's going home." A corruption of the French allez! They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them.
Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: "Ha! So Zeen's ill... he's not one of the youngest either." "Seventy-five." They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings of smoke that wound up to the ceiling.
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.
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