“Open the charnel house, gravedigger,” said Joseph imperiously.
“It will not be necessary,” answered the gravedigger. “Yonder is thy father,” and he pointed to the great ruddy cross by which stood old Loyka with dishevelled hair, holding in his hand a human shin bone which he had picked out for himself in the charnel house, and looking from one to the other of those who had approached the cemetery, as much as to say, “If any one comes near me I will break his head for him with this shin bone.”
All started back who saw it, even Joseph started. That grey-haired sire among the tombs, holding his left hand around the great cross on which hung the old white iron figure of the Christus, and in his right hand a human bone, seemed standing there the defender of the dead against whom the living had come in battle array.
“What went ye out for to see,” began old Loyka in the words of Scripture. “A notable son who promised in presence of you all to bear me on his arms, and then waved me to those chambers which I had reserved for beggars, and bade me dwell there. Behold him, yonder, he is among you. Or came ye out for to see a father bereft of sense and reason who long ago invited you to the feast, danced with you and made you merry. Behold me here, I stand beneath the crucified Jesus, but I have no more to spend on feasts, nothing remains to me save this
