ntry folks
come in and look upon the dead, let them learn from the sight that Death
is the judge of the gentry as well as of the serfs; let them see how the
rich can be splendid even after death, how they embellish their coffins,
how they fasten them with golden nails, how they embroider their palls
with patterns of roses and gold filagree, how they spread the bed of
death itself with the finest white watered silk and perfume it with the
most fragrant balm.

Yet that fragrant balm cannot stifle the smell of the charnel house.
Here, too, men must hold their handkerchiefs to their mouths as they do
before the corpses of the poor.

For Death is a just judge.

A ragged man passes through the door. He is soaked through and through
with mud and dirt, it was clear that no roof had covered his head during
last night's tempest. His feet peeped from out of his boots, his damp
hair seemed glued to his temples, his eyes were sunken, his cheeks were
mere bone, his lips were blue and hollow.

He entered the courtyard falteringly like one who would steal something
but does not know how to set about it, and there he stood at the
entrance of the hall, leaning against the lintel, with eyes cast down
upon the ground.

The dogs approached him, sniffed at his clothes all round, and began to
growl at him.

Only one dog, an old boar-hound, would not be satisfied with sniffing
impatiently among the others, but rushed upon the stranger, placed its
two front paws upon him, licked his limp hand, and began joyously
barking at him.

At this the major-domo, a sunburnt old man with a white moustache drew
near, gave the speechless stranger a large piece of bread, and bade him
go about his business.

"In God's name take yourself off," said he, "don't stand here in the
way of everybody that comes out or goes in."

The new-comer did not move, but kept on looking straight in front of
him, his chin and his lips trembled as if he were keeping back by force
a torrent of tears.

The major-domo did not notice this, but the old dog kept leaping up at
the stranger's hand, and yelped and yapped so persistently that it was
plain he wanted to say something.

"Come, stir your stumps and look sharp about it, my good fellow, and
don't set all our dogs barking for nothing," said the major-domo, and
with that he seized the vagabond's hand and turned him round.

And now he saw his face for the first time.

The tears streamed from the eyes of the ragged