a word of this.

He had kept his promise, no stranger's hand had been allowed to touch
the dead body. Even the most painful task, he performed himself,
screwing down with his own hands the coffin lid. Then, as the bearers
wound slowly down the crooked stairs with their burden, he took Edwin's
arm and supported him on the last sorrowful pilgrimage.

The street was only lighted by a faint reflection from the snow, and
few persons were standing around the door. Edwin bowed sorrowfully to
his acquaintances and then entered the first of the four mourning
coaches, which instantly moved forward. He was accompanied by Mohr,
Marquard, and Franzelius. The second carriage was occupied by Herr
Feyertag and the old gentleman on the second floor, who despite the
wintry cold, would not be dissuaded from showing his fellow-lodger this
token of sympathy. The third carriage belonged to the little artist. He
had come by himself and intended to follow the coffin alone, when he
perceived the head journeyman, who with a large weed on his hat and a
band of crape on his left arm, was preparing to accompany the
procession on foot. Herr Koenig instantly ordered his driver to stop,
opened the door, and compelled the worthy man to take the seat beside
him, which the modest fellow after long hesitation, at last consented
to do.

The fourth and last carriage contained a young Pole and the president
of a society, which numbered among its members many foreigners and
formed the largest portion of the audience to Edwin's lectures. They
followed the body solely from regard for their teacher, as they had
never known Balder, and instantly drew down the curtains in order to
beguile the long ride by discussing theatrical matters, the latest
news, and smoking paper cigarettes.

From an upper window, a weeping girl wrapped in a thick shawl, gazed
after the slowly moving carriages. It was Reginchen, who for two days
had not made her appearance and steadily refused even to see her lover.

The procession moved through the Oranienburg Gate and traversed the
suburbs for some distance, ere it reached the cemetery. The air was
mild, as if a thaw were about to set in, and the snow over which they
walked to the grave, yielded noiselessly under their feet. Beside the
fresh mound of earth stood the clergyman, and behind him a throng of
dark figures, the workmen to whom the printer had said that he had lost
his dearest friend. The clergyman, whom Edwin only greeted w