Read Online Buried in the Snow by Franz Hoffman - Free Book Online Page A

his living until the spring.
    In the midst of these cares and fears came the first of January, “New Year’s Day.” Jacques’s grandfather exerted himself to cheer the lad; amusing him with games, and striving in many other ways to make him forget the impending trouble. He tried to make it a festive day for the poor boy, and suggested that they should indulge more than ordinarily in such good cheer as lay within their reach. The cheese which Jacques had made must be cut, potatoes also, roasted in the ashes, were to be added to the feast, together with a small quantity of their wine. Nor was Blanchette forgotten: she had a double ration of salt, and Jacques selected the sweetest hay for her holiday dinner, and a fresh, clean bed of straw, making her glad with a triple allowance of caresses; and so passed the day, which had threatened nothing but sorrow, quite happily for our poor prisoners.
    But not many more such days were they to pass; and the old man felt that the boy’s fears must be again aroused, and that what he wished yet to attend to must be done without delay. The following day his grandfather told Jacques to bring to his bedside pen and paper, and write down a few words which he would dictate. The words were as follows:
    “In the name of God, Amen!
    “It is more than probable that I may be taken from my friends before I can state to them my wishes. I have no special directions to give regarding my trifling property. But I wish to give to my dear grandson, Jacques Lopraz, here present, some proof of my love and gratitude for all his care and devotion; and therefore I beg my heirs that they give to him (should it not be in my power) my watch; my rifle; my Bible, which belonged to my father; and my seal, upon which my initials are engraved.
    “These slight tokens of my love will be valuable to him for the sake of the true love which we bear for each other, and which death itself cannot weaken.
    “Such is my will.
    “Signed at the Chalet of Azindes, the
    2 nd of January, 18—.
    “ Louis Lopraz .”
    Jacques wept as he wrote, and at the close fell sobbing at the side of the old man.
    “Be calm, my dear child, be calm,” whispered he in gentle tones. “What our God sends must be borne without murmuring, in quiet submission. If I am separated from you, my love will remain the same.”
    Jacques endeavored to repress his grief, and in some degree recovered his composure. For several days longer the old man lived, comforting the poor lad with his presence, until he hoped with all confidence of youth that the evil day would not come, that his grandfather would recover, and regain his lost strength. The kind God would not cause him such grief and pain. He, in his infinite love and compassion, would suffer him to live until spring—would let him look once more upon the dear home in the valley.
    With such hopes the boy sustained himself, and buoyed up his sinking heart, while he prayed fervently that God, for the dear Saviour’s sake, might fulfill his ardent desires.
    The days passed away slowly: it had now been a long time since any noise from without had penetrated their seclusion: their chalet appeared to be completely buried under the snow that had fallen lately in great quantities. The iron pipe which Jacques had placed in the chimney still answered the purpose, and was the sole link that connected them with the outer world—a few flakes of snow occasionally falling through it into their chalet. These white messengers of winter were the only indications of life that reached the captives in their dark grave.
    Should the clock have stopped, they would not have known had it been morning, midday, or evening. It was solely by means of the faint glimmer of light which they saw from the top of the small iron pipe that they could distinguish day from night. On the other hand, they suffered very little from cold in their silent cave; and were able daily to renew the fresh air without risking their safety. Jacques