The Mineral argus., 1884-07-17

4uGAC art 0AAH1 AAAu AEdAo III tAG "a
lence, as the countess, Roger, and
Blanche fall on their knees and weep
between their joined hands. Soon af-
terward the children take away their
mother, who at the door, wishing to
show her despair, sways to and fro.
From this moment the count belongs
to the pompous undertaken.
The physicians have gone away, bend
ing their backs with desolute faces.
They senda priest to watch. The two
domestics remain with the priest, seated
on chairs, stiff and dignifed it is the ex-
pected end of their service. One of
them perceives q spoon, which hes been
forgotten; he rises and slips it quickly
into his pocket, that the fine order of
the room may not be disturbed.
Below, in the drawing ROOM, the
noise of hammers is heard; it is the
upholsters, who are changing the room
into a glowing chapel. The embalmer
is alone with the assistants; the doors
areshut. When the count is brought
down the next day, he is finely dressed
and has a youthful freshness.
At 8 o'clock, the morning of tho fun
eral, the house is filed with the muir
muir of voices. The son and son-in-law
of the deceased receive the crowd on the
ground floor. They bow and keep the
quiet p~oliteness of afflicted people. All
the notabilities are there-the nobility,
the army, the magistracy-eYen Sena-
tors and Professors.
At 10 the funeral procession starts
for the church. The hearse is of the
highest class-plumes and feathers,
draped with hangings of silver fringe.
The tassels of the pail are held up by
a Marshal of France, q Duke, an old
friend of the deceased, an ex-Minister of
State and an Academician. The counts
SON., Roger, and his s~on-in-law led the
mourners. Afterward comes the pro-
c~ession, gloved and cravated in black,
all important ~personages, who march
with the dull stamp of a disbanded
troop. The excited neighborhood is at
the windows.
Some persons form a line on the. side
walks, remove their hats and shake
their heads as the triumphal hearse
passes. Business is interrupted by the
interminRble mourning coaches, nearly
all ofthem empty. The o~mnibusses and
street carriages are gathered together
on the cross roads; one hears the swear
ing of the coachmen and the cracking
of whips.
During all this time the countess re-
mains at home, giving out that her tears
have broken her down. Extended on a
lounge, playing with the tassel of her
girdle, she looks at the ceiling, relieved
and thoughtful.
At the church the ceremony lasts two
hours. All the clergy make an appear
Ever since morning, one has
seen only busy priests running in their
surplices and wiping their faces. In
the middle of the nave, which is spread
with black, is a brilliant catafalque. At
last the people are seated; the women
at the left, the men at the right; and
the organ rolls out its la~mentation the
moan softly the children of the
choir breathe soft signs; the torches
send up high green flames, which add
to the pomp of the ceremany.
will not Faure sing?" asks a deputy
of his neighbor.
eyes; l think So" replies the neigh
Dor, who smiles from a distance ON the
ladies.
The voice of the singer rises CULVER
ing.
"Ha! what method, what BREADTH"
adds in a low voice, swaying his head in
ecstacy.
All the assembly are fascinated. The
ladies, with a smile on their lips. think
of the opera. "Faure really has talentT
A friend of the count goes so far as to
say:
HE never sang better. It is provok-
ing that the poor count cannot hear him,
who liked him so much"
The singers, in black cloaks, march
around the coffin. The priests, to the
number of twenty, complete the cere-
monial, bow and sprinkle holy water.
At last all those present pass before the
coffin and the holy water ~circulates
again.
They all go out after shaking hands
with the family. Outside the daylight
blinds the eyes of the crowd.
1t is a fine day in June. In front of
the church there is some confusion.
The procession is a long time in reor-
ganizing, At the corner of a street two
blocks away the waving plumes of the
hearse are visible. One hears the clap
ping of the carriage doors and the trot-
ting of the horses on the pavement.
However the coachmen form in line and
the procession moves toward the ceme-
terry.
In the carriages every n was at ease;
IN would think they were going for a
pleasure drive in the spring time. AS
they no longer could see the hearse, they
forgot the funeral and engage in con-
versation; the ladies speak of the sum-
mer season, the men chat about their