Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-12-28


more hope. that youN disease wns a fatal
Eudor's countenancv was lighted up, ms he
spoke, with an almost Internal expression OF
joy; he gazesi for an instant on this beautiful
young woman, who seemed to be almost
dying and then, bc continued'
"Well, then, since you are prepared, will
tell you the truth. When l Just now spoke
of future, Of Joy and love, wished 20 dc
ccive you, and to give you hope that my.
self have lost He stopped; It seemed
impossible for him TO nrticulate another
word, she flxcd on him such look Of love
aud melancholy; and in her beautiful black
eyes, there was such an expression Of tender
ness and regret at leaving this world, that
the young man seemed deeply moved.
"Ahl you are not ns much weaned from
this life as you saidl" A smile played on tho
pale lips.
"Yes," said she, ~ own Il, ! felt. do not
know why, my heart sink; but my courageis
returning. ] am ready now" added she,
taking Eudor's hand and putting 1t on her
heart; ''now repeat thosc words, and you
will feel 1t beat neither faster now slower"
swell, then,n said Eudor, disengnging his
hand; "let the will Of heaven he donep He
retreated few steps, and concealing himself
behind the curtains, be drew from his bosom
the vial he had placed there on euteringi An
instant more, and no calmly presented TO
Emma cup filled to tho very brim with the
blue liquid.
"what forr' said she; Twill 1t prolong my
iifer
"No," replied Eudor.
"Well, then--why must take another
bitter potionr
This one is not bitter, Emma; and II II
cannot conquer your fever, 1t will, at least,
save you from all sufferings in your last 70
mentsn The countess put the cup TO her lips,
and, while she slowly drank 1t, Eudor con-
tinued, "You will sleep ms II after ball.
quietly rocked with tho sounds OF sweet
music, your flowers and your dress before
your eyes"
"Yes," replied the countess, returning TO
him the empty cup, "yes, all my happy recol-
lections win assist mo at this moment, since
you are there, you with whom all the joys
and pleasure Of my past life are connected"
One hour had passed, and ever since she
Ind taken EudoHs prescription the countess
had been hopelessly weak. She asked for the
consultations OF religion.
Priests and Levites soon arrived carrying the
sacred Host 1t was sad sight, a room full
Of kneeling persons, repeating in low voice
the prayers for the dying, which only sobs Of
uUeulSu DtCustDUuuy hcio uii'
there yellow lights throwing their nickering
rays over the kneeling crowd, and bending
over the bed au aged priest ministering to
youthful female.
Soon the crowd dispersed and again Eudor
was left alone with Emma, but the interview
was not long. Her last hook, her last prayer,
her last sigh were for the oniy ono she had
ever loved, and dcatikscized his prey.
Did Eudor display grief at her mournful
endi
He gazed Mt her calmly; but now and then,
as II TO quiet some importune thought, no
repeated.
''She wished TO die. Tho worst can only
DO that her wish has been granted" He
called the count and led him TO the bed.
you are the person TO close her eyes"
The despair Of the old man was heart rend-
ing. He fell scnseless by the body Of his wife.
When tho count was come from tho cham
ber Eudpr returned TO the bedside. He
seemed to feel an exquisite pleasure In watch
ing the body. The closed eyes, the stifrencd
limbs, the features once 30 beautiful, now
pale and sunken. He gazed and murmured
with smile;
"'Tis right, no breath, no life--cold-rigid
dead"
Tho room soon filed with domestics, all
with tears In their eyes and grief at their
hearts and on their lips; all prayed for the
soul Of the deceased-sho will go straight to
paradise, said they, she was 80 good.
without reckoning that she had her pur-
gatory in this world" half mnrmured the
doctor, who alone did not bend his knee or
pray for her who had died. There was In
the room an old relation. Eudor addressed
her;
''She must be buried as soon as possible"
said no; "her disease Is contagious, and II you
wait more than two hours, your lives will all
10 in danger" Half frightened to death, tho
old woman gave her orders, the church bells
began to toll, tho crosses were raised, the
lights prepared, the rooms hung with mourn
ing, and slowly the funeral procession came
from the church
| Tho body had been dressed IN her handsom-
est garments-a Il dress Of brocade with pearl
necklace. rich lace around the neck, and her
feet covered with stockings of silk and gold.
and shoes of white velvet.
at Is her bridal DRESS" said some one to
| Eudor.
"That Is right, for the same occasion, same
| dressn
Tue coffin was there, but the countess was
still on her bed The old aunt approached
scissors In hand Ono would have though,
her tho representative Of fate severing the
thread Of life A golden tress was already
between the Observation-Disclosures rushed for
ward
"Are you madi Do you wish to Join heri
This hair, still wet with the death sweat,
bears che seeds Of death. Leave it Alone or
rather, think OF burning the bed, the gar
nents oil that she touched Relics, indeed
remember her words and her deeds"
He then placed 1t In tho coffin; four mer
lifted it on their shoulders, and the funeral
procession moved.
At church the service for the dead was per
formed, n long and sad service composed OF
cold and grave words, and Of solemn and
melancholy chants. A priest then gave a
sponge dipped in holy water to each OF tht
mournsrs, the assistants one by one sprinkled
the coffin. and, wet with this sacred Sew. n
was taken TO the tomb.
Three hours had elapsed Gince the last cere
monies had been performed, and the chure.
presented striking and imposing scene, cal
culated to impress on weak and waverinl
minds the terrors Of religion. The rays o
the moon striking on the painted window
panes threw strange figures over the whit
and lofty walls, while tho different effects o
light and shadow gave to the images of tn
saints fantastic and unusual appearance
The altar was still hung with black, in tn
middle Of the church yet stood, covered owe
with black cloth sprigged with silver, tn
stools on which the coffin had been placed
and from the pillars around still hung tn
escutcheons of the late countess. 1t was
solemn spectacle, and occasionally the moon
hidden by cloud, cleft the whole in dark
ness, which was only relieved by the flicker
ing and uncertain fame of the lights aroun
the altar.
Suddenly slight noise was heard, foot
step, man carrying a lantern and long ea
tinguisher appeared. 1t was the sexton. II
went his rounds in silence, and as he returne
snddnnlY drnnned his eN tincuishnr and utfera