beg for alms, but offered garlands for sale. She had settled herself here beside a single tomb which belonged ’twas said to a certain brewer. From that time she found in the spot a veritable home and never left it.
She conducted a small sale of nosegays, but every beggar woman declared that she was a bad manager. She need not have lived in want—they said—if she had been more chary of her earnings. Of the garlands which she bought from time to time, she laid one on the tomb of the brewer, another on that of her husband, and a third on the tomb of her child. But as to her child she did not know exactly where it was laid—so they said—because it was buried in the common pauper’s grave. But in order not to miss the spot she each day placed the garland on a different part of the common grave, and thus she was certain not to pass over her child. Besides there was this advantage in so doing she said that other children also got a garland who otherwise would have been forgotten by every one.
From time to time a widow with a grown-up daughter came to visit the brewer’s tomb. They were not unmindful of the tomb it is true; but said the beggars what was all that worth compared with “garland grandmother”. She never separated herself from the tomb. And if ever she found a pretty flower, she planted it there. Havel’s tomb was in reality a very pretty flower-bed and the garlands on it were always the freshest.
Karla, this “garland grandmother”, haunted Havel’s tomb even when the moon flung a network of mysterious rays among the crosses, the tomb-stones, and trees of the cemetery. Many a star tired in the heaven and fell below the horizon. Many a drop of dew collected and dried upon the flowers; but the heart of Karla beat without weariness on that tomb. Not even the firmament of heaven was so constant a guardian of Havel’s tomb as she. The birds wheeled and fluttered around the tomb, and winter scared them all away; but in the heart of Karla sprang feelings like the first-sown corn of spring.
Whether the dead arise from the tomb it were hard to say; but that Karla was worthy that Havel should embrace her a thousand times is true enough. Those flowerets which she planted on the tomb struck their rootlets only a few inches into the soil; but the heart of Karla penetrated all the ground to the coffin. She understood those flowers, many a word she confided to them. Many an answer she feigned from them. Karla felt blessed in the thought that Havel had not known about her. If ever he had gained
