DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4593#0370
ISLANDS OF THE yEGEAN 339
The casket was then carried out and the funeral
procession formed. Two Greeks bearing lighted
candles led the way, the candles burning pale in the
brilliant sun. The gendarme followed, bearing a
cushion on which was a symbol of authority; four
soldiers marched behind him; and four Greeks
dressed in their native costume — the short white
skirt, or fiistanclla — bore the casket. The two chief
mourners followed; and then the French captain and
myself. Behind us were the Greek priest, the de-
march, and a long procession of men, women and
children from the villages. There was no music,
no cadence step, and no wailing, save the sobs of
the faithful housekeeper. I had seen Greek funerals
before, and the sight from the standpoint of spectator
would not have seemed strange; but to be moving
in the procession to conduct the service was an un-
usual and memorable experience.
Monsieur Mimont was a lover of trees. He had
planted many of varied hue and habit with his own
hands,— trees not found elsewhere on the island. In
a beautiful grove, at the end of a gentle slope, not far
from the calm waters of the bay, he had chosen the
place for his grave. One could hardly dream of a
more beautiful spot. I shall never forget the lovely
panorama that lay before us as we slowly marched
down the knoll. In the foreground were plane-
trees, poplars, weeping-willows, fig-trees and olives, —
some of bright green, some of dark green, and others
of yellow leafage, spreading over the wide slope
which gently descended to the calm blue bay. Here
were peace and beauty. Across the gulf was the
eternal grandeur of the mountains. There rose Par-
The casket was then carried out and the funeral
procession formed. Two Greeks bearing lighted
candles led the way, the candles burning pale in the
brilliant sun. The gendarme followed, bearing a
cushion on which was a symbol of authority; four
soldiers marched behind him; and four Greeks
dressed in their native costume — the short white
skirt, or fiistanclla — bore the casket. The two chief
mourners followed; and then the French captain and
myself. Behind us were the Greek priest, the de-
march, and a long procession of men, women and
children from the villages. There was no music,
no cadence step, and no wailing, save the sobs of
the faithful housekeeper. I had seen Greek funerals
before, and the sight from the standpoint of spectator
would not have seemed strange; but to be moving
in the procession to conduct the service was an un-
usual and memorable experience.
Monsieur Mimont was a lover of trees. He had
planted many of varied hue and habit with his own
hands,— trees not found elsewhere on the island. In
a beautiful grove, at the end of a gentle slope, not far
from the calm waters of the bay, he had chosen the
place for his grave. One could hardly dream of a
more beautiful spot. I shall never forget the lovely
panorama that lay before us as we slowly marched
down the knoll. In the foreground were plane-
trees, poplars, weeping-willows, fig-trees and olives, —
some of bright green, some of dark green, and others
of yellow leafage, spreading over the wide slope
which gently descended to the calm blue bay. Here
were peace and beauty. Across the gulf was the
eternal grandeur of the mountains. There rose Par-