Stepanych shook his head and said nothing. He finished his gla.s.s and put it sidewise, but Avdyeich took it again and filled it with tea.

"Drink, and may it do you good! I suppose when He, the Father, walked the earth, He did not neglect anybody, and kept the company mostly of simple folk. He visited mostly simple folk, and chose His disciples mostly from people of our cla.s.s, labouring men, like ourselves the sinners. He who raises himself up, He said, shall be humbled, and he who humbles himself shall be raised. You call me Lord, He said, but I will wash your feet. He who wants to be the first, He said, let him be everybody's servant; because, He said, blessed are the poor, the meek the humble, and the merciful."

Stepanych forgot his tea. He was an old man and easily moved to tears.

He sat there and listened, and tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Take another gla.s.s!" said Avdyeich.

But Stepanych made the sign of the cross, thanked him for the tea, pushed the gla.s.s away from him, and got up.

"Thank you, Martn Avdyeich," he said. "You were hospitable to me, and have given food to my body and my soul."

"You are welcome. Come in again,--I shall be glad to see you," said Avdyeich.

Stepanych went away. Martn poured out the last tea, finished another gla.s.s, put away the dishes, and again sat down at the window to work,--to tap a boot. And as he worked, he kept looking out of the window,--waiting for Christ and thinking of Him and His works. And all kinds of Christ's speeches ran through his head.

There pa.s.sed by two soldiers, one in Crown boots, the other in boots of his own; then the proprietor of a neighbouring house came by in clean galoshes, and then a baker with a basket. All of these went past the window, and then a woman in woollen stockings and peasant shoes came in line with the window. She went by the window and stopped near a wall.

Avdyeich looked at her through the window, and saw that she was a strange, poorly dressed woman, with a child: she had stopped with her back to the wind and was trying to wrap the child, though she did not have anything to wrap it in. The woman's clothes were for the summer, and scanty at that. Avdyeich could hear the child cry in the street, and her vain attempt to quiet it. Avdyeich got up and went out of his room and up to the staircase, and called out:

"Clever Woman! Clever woman!"

The woman heard him and turned around.

"Why are you standing there in the cold with the child? Come in here! It will be easier for you to wrap the child in a warm room. Here, this way!"

The woman was surprised. She saw an old man in an ap.r.o.n, with gla.s.ses over his nose, calling to her. She followed him in.

They went down the stairs and entered the room, and Martn took the woman up to the bed.

"Sit down here, clever woman, nearer to the stove, and get warm and feed the child."

"There is no milk in my b.r.e.a.s.t.s,--I have not had anything to eat since morning," said the woman, but still she took the child to her breast.

Avdyeich shook his head, went to the table, fetched some bread and a bowl, opened a door in the stove, filled the bowl with beet soup, and took out the pot of porridge, but it was not done yet. He put the soup on the table, put down the bread, and took off a rag from a hook and put it down on the table.

"Sit down, clever woman, and eat, and I will sit with the babe,--I used to have children of my own, and so I know how to take care of them."

The woman made the sign of the cross, sat down at the table, and began to eat, while Avdyeich seated himself on the bed with the child. He smacked his lips at it, but could not smack well, for he had no teeth.

The babe kept crying all the time. Avdyeich tried to frighten it with his finger: he quickly carried his finger down toward the babe's mouth and pulled it away again. He did not put his finger into the child's mouth, because it was black,--all smeared with pitch. But the child took a fancy for his finger and grew quiet, and then began even to smile.

Avdyeich, too, was happy. The woman was eating in the meantime and telling him who she was and whither she was going.

"I am a soldier's wife," she said. "My husband was driven somewhere far away eight months ago, and I do not know where he is. I had been working as a cook when the baby was born; they would not keep me with the child.

This is the third month that I have been without a place. I have spent all I had saved. I wanted to hire out as a wet-nurse, but they will not take me: they say that I am too thin. I went to a merchant woman, where our granny lives, and she promised she would take me. I thought she wanted me to come at once, but she told me she wanted me next week. She lives a distance away. I am all worn out and have worn out the dear child, too. Luckily our landlady pities us for the sake of Christ, or else I do not know how we should have lived until now."

Avdyeich heaved a sigh, and said:

"And have you no warm clothes?"

"Indeed, it is time now to have warm clothing, dear man! But yesterday I p.a.w.ned my last kerchief for twenty kopeks."

The woman went up to the bed and took her child, but Avdyeich got up, went to the wall, rummaged there awhile, and brought her an old sleeveless cloak.

"Take this!" he said. "It is an old piece, but you may use it to wrap yourself in."

The woman looked at the cloak and at the old man, and took the cloak, and burst out weeping. Avdyeich turned his face away; he crawled under the bed, pulled out a box, rummaged through it, and again sat down opposite the woman.

And the woman said:

"May Christ save you, grandfather! Evidently He sent me to your window.

My child would have frozen to death. When I went out it was warm, but now it has turned dreadfully cold. It was He, our Father, who taught you to look through the window and have pity on me, sorrowful woman."

Avdyeich smiled, and said:

"It is He who has instructed me: clever woman, there was good reason why I looked through the window."

Martn told the soldier woman about his dream, and how he had heard a voice promising him that the Lord would come to see him on that day.

"Everything is possible," said the woman. She got up, threw the cloak over her, wrapped the child in it, and began to bow to Avdyeich and to thank him.

"Accept this, for the sake of Christ," said Avdyeich, giving her twenty kopeks, with which to redeem her kerchief.

The woman made the sign of the cross, and so did Avdyeich, and he saw the woman out.

She went away. Avdyeich ate some soup, put the things away, and sat down once more to work. He was working, but at the same time thinking of the window: whenever it grew dark there, he looked up to see who was pa.s.sing. There went by acquaintances and strangers, and there was nothing peculiar.

Suddenly Avdyeich saw an old woman, a huckstress, stop opposite the very window. She was carrying a basket with apples. There were but few of them left,--evidently she had sold all, and over her shoulder she carried a bag with chips. No doubt, she had picked them up at some new building, and was on her way home. The bag was evidently pulling hard on her shoulder; she wanted to shift it to her other shoulder, so she let the bag down on the flagstones, set the apple-basket on a post, and began to shake down the chips. While she was doing that, a boy in a torn cap leaped out from somewhere, grasped any apple from the basket, and wanted to skip out, but the old woman saw him in time and turned around and grabbed the boy by the sleeve. The boy yanked and tried to get away, but the old woman held on to him with both her hands, knocked down his cap, and took hold of his hair. The boy cried, and the old woman scolded. Avdyeich did not have time to put away the awl. He threw it on the floor, jumped out of the room, stumbled on the staircase, and dropped his gla.s.ses. He ran out into the street. The old woman was pulling the boy's hair and scolding him. She wanted to take him to a policeman; the little fellow struggled and tried to deny what he had done:

"I did not take any, so why do you beat me? Let me go!"

Avdyeich tried to separate them. He took the boy's arm, and said:

"Let him go, granny, forgive him for Christ's sake!"

"I will forgive him in such a way that he will not forget until the new bath brooms are ripe. I will take the rascal to the police station!"

Avdyeich began to beg the old woman:

"Let him go, granny, he will not do it again. Let him go, for Christ's sake!"

The woman let go of him. The boy wanted to run, but Avdyeich held on to him.

"Beg the grandmother's forgiveness," he said. "Don't do that again,--I saw you take the apple."

The boy began to cry, and he asked her forgiveness.

"That's right. And now, take this apple!" Avdyeich took an apple from the basket and gave it to the boy. "I will pay for it, granny," he said to the old woman.

"You are spoiling these ragam.u.f.fins," said the old woman. "He ought to be rewarded in such a way that he should remember it for a week."