The Forest Lovers

"I am no priest," says he, "God knows; but I cannot put a man's body

into the earth without in some sort commending his soul. I must do

what I can, and you must pardon an indifferent advocate, as God will."

"If you are advised by me," said the lady, "you will leave that affair

where it is. The man was worthless."

"We cannot measure his worth, madam: we have no tools for that. The

utmost we can do is to bury part of him, and pray for the other part."

"You speak as a priest whom I had thought a soldier," said she with

some asperity. "If you are what you now seem, I will remind you of a

saying which should be familiar--Let the dead bury their dead."

"As I live by bread," Prosper cried out, "I will commend this man's

soul whither it is going."

"Then I will not listen to you, sir," she answered in a pale fume. "I

cannot listen to you."

Prosper grew extremely polite. "Madam, there is surely no need," he

said. "If you cannot you will not. Moreover, I should in any case

address myself elsewhere."

He had folded the dead man's arms over his breast, and shut his eyes.

He had wiped his lips. The thing seemed more at peace. So he crossed

himself and began, In nomine patris, etc., and then recited the

Paternoster. This almost exhausted his stock, though it did not

satisfy his aspirations. His words burst from him. "O thou pitiful

dead!" he cried out, "go thou where Pity is, in the hope some morsels

may be justly thine. Rest thou there, who wast not restful in thine

end, and quitted not willingly thy tenement; rest thou there till thou

art called. And when thou art called to give an account of thyself and

thine own works, may that which men owe thee be remembered with that

which thou dost owe! Per Christum dominum," etc.

He bowed his head, crossed himself very piously; then stood still,

smiling gently upon the man he knew nothing of, save that he had been

young and had lost his race. He did not see the lady; she was,

however, near by, not looking at the man at the grave, but first at

Prosper and then at the ground. Her fingers were twisting and tangling

together, and her bosom, restless as the sea, rose and fell fitfully.

She was pale, save at the lips; like Prosper she smiled, but the smile

was stiff. Prosper set to work with the shovel and soon filled up the

grave. Then he turned to the lady.