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

thought if only his grandfather’s life was spared, and their provisions held out, all might yet be well.
    But God, in his inscrutable wisdom, did not so will it, and days of heavy trial awaited the poor lad in the future.
    It was now the 3rd of January: the day had almost passed away, and although the old man had but little appetite, he had not complained of pain, remaining calm and comparatively cheerful until evening. After supper, as he sat by the chimney corner to talk, as was his wont, to the lad, he suddenly turned pale as death, trembled, sank down, and would have fallen, had not Jacques quickly ran to his assistance.
    The startled boy shrieked aloud, and with a strength far beyond his years, bore him to his bed, and laid him gently down. His head and feet were cold. The blood appeared to have rushed to the heart. Jacques rubbed his hands and feet, and after a time the blood began to circulate, and consciousness returned.
    “Where am I?” he asked, opening his eyes. “On my bed?”
    “Yes, grandfather,” replied the boy. “You fainted, and I carried you here.”
    “You carried me here!” said the old man, in astonishment. “God be thanked, that, as I grow weaker, you, my child, grow stronger.”
    Jacques poured out a little wine, and insisted upon his grandfather drinking it, after which the old man felt somewhat refreshed. Soon after, he fell into a quiet sleep, while the boy kneeled beside his bed, and watched for a long time his slumber: then lying down, quiet sleep soon closed the weary eyelids of the poor child, and the night passed peacefully away.
    The following day and night brought no change. Upon the next morning the grandfather was unusually quiet. After some hours spent in deep thought, he called Jacques to him, and speaking unreservedly about the state of his health, he prayed him to await his death with composure and Christian resignation.
    “Come here, my child,” the old man said, “and sit by my side. I can no longer conceal from you that the close of my life is not very far off, and that my poor frail body will turn to dust before the hour of your rescue comes. My weakness increases so rapidly as to leave me no room for hope. I trust, and doubt not, that you will be more troubled at our separation than alarmed at your loneliness. But I have confidence in your faith in God, your strength of mind, and your love for your father, to whose arms, I feel assured, Providence will restore you. After my death, my child, you will have fewer hardships to contend with. I have been only a burden to you. And should the time come when you can leave the chalet, I will be no longer an obstacle in your way. But do not run any risk; wait patiently. A few days earlier or later will make but little difference after so long an imprisonment, and by not awaiting the right time, you may risk all. Reflect a moment, my son; your health has not suffered much. The monotony and loneliness will, perhaps, be oppressive. I know you will miss my companionship; but you must think how many prisoners are condemned to months, yes, long years of silence, who have not as you, my child, the consciousness that they suffer innocently. Pray for patient endurance, Jacques. Only one thought troubles me. I fear the effect of my death upon your nerves. When you look upon my poor body deprived of life, horror and fear, as well as grief and sorrow, will, perhaps, take hold upon your spirit. This feeling you must at once struggle to overcome. Pray earnestly against it, and it will pass away.
    “And why should you fear the remains of one so dear? Let us reason about it, Jacques. Do you fear me when I sleep? Were you afraid of me the other day when I fainted? Why, then, feel alarm when death comes? You know your dear old friend would never harm you!
    “When I am dead, Jacques, give my body to the earth. There, in the dairy, which we now never enter, dig a grave deep enough to receive it, and there lay it down, and let it rest until the