It is now seven months since they sent my husband away off, and no tidings. I lived out as cook; the baby was born; no one cared to keep me with a child. This is the third month that I have been struggling along without a place. I ate up all I had. I wanted to engage as a wet-nurse-no one would take me-I am too thin, they say. I have just been to the merchant’s wife, where lives our little grandmother, and so they promised to take us in. I thought this was the end of it. But she told me to come next week. And she lives a long way off. I got tired out; and it tired him, too, my heart’s darling. Fortunately, our landlady takes pity on us for the sake of Christ, and gives us a room, else I don’t know how I should manage to get along.”
Martuin signed, and said, “Haven’t you any warm clothes?”
“Now is the time, friend, to wear warm clothes; but yesterday I pawned my last shawl for a twenty-kopek piece.” The woman came to the bed, and took the child; and Martuin rose, went to the little wall, and succeeded in finding an old coat.
“Na!” says he: “it is a poor thing, yet you may turn it to some use.”
The woman looked at the coat, looked at the old man; she took the coat, and burst into tears: and Martuin turned away his head; crawling under the bed, he pushed out a little trunk, rummaged in it, and sat down opposite the woman.
And the woman said, “May Christ bless you, little grandfather! He must have sent me himself to your window. My little child would have frozen to death. When I started out, it was warm, but now it is terribly cold. And he, the Savior, led you to look through the window, and take pity on me, an unfortunate.”
Martuin smiled, and said, “Indeed, he did that! I have been looking through the window, my good woman, not without cause.” And Martuin told the soldier’s wife his dream, and how he heard the voice-how the Lord promised to come and see him that day.
“All things are possible,” said the woman. She rose, put on the coat, wrapped up her little child in it; and as she started to take leave, she thanked Martuin again.
“Take this, for Christ’s sake,” said Martuin, giving her a twenty-kopek piece: “redeem your shawl.” She made the sign of the cross. Martuin made the sign of the cross, and went with her to the door.
The woman left. Martuin ate some shchi, washed some dishes, and sat down again to work. While he works he still remembers the window: when the window grew darker, he immediately looked out to see who was passing by. Both acquaintances and strangers passed by, and there was nothing out of the ordinary.
But here Martuin sees that an old apple-woman has stopped right in front of his window. She carries a basket with apples. Only a few were left, as she had nearly sold them all out; and over her shoulder she had a bag full of chips. She must have gathered them up in some new building, and was on her way home. One could see that the bag was heavy on her shoulder: she wanted to shift it to the other shoulder.
So she lowered the bag upon the sidewalk, stood the basket with the apples on a little post, and began to shake down the splinters in the bag. And while she was shaking her bag, a little boy in a torn cap came along, picked up an apple from the basket, and was about to make his escape; but the old woman noticed it, turned around, and caught the youngster by his sleeve. The little boy began to struggle, tried to tear himself away; but the old woman grasped him with both hands, knocked off his cap, and caught him by the hair.
The little boy is screaming, the old woman is scolding. Martuin lost no time in putting away his awl; he threw it upon the floor, sprang to the door-he even stumbled on the stairs, and dropped his eyeglasses-and rushed out into the street.
The woman is pulling the youngster by his hair, and is scolding, and threatening to take him to the policeman: the youngster defends himself, and denies the charge. “I did not take it,” he says: “what are you licking me for? let me go!” Martuin tried to separate them. He took the boy by his arm, and says-”Let him go, little one; forgive him, for Christ’s sake.”
“I will forgive him so that he won’t forget till the new broom grows. I am going to take the little villain to the police.”
Martuin began to entreat the old woman: “Let him go, babushka,” he said, “he will never do it again. Let him go, for Christ’s sake.”
The old woman let him loose: the boy tried to run, but Martuin kept him back.
“Ask the old woman’s forgiveness,” he said, “and don’t you ever do it again: I saw you taking the apple.”
With tears in his eyes, the boy began to ask forgiveness.
“Nu! that’s right; and now, here’s an apple for you.” Martuin got an apple from the basket, and gave it to the boy.
“I will pay you for it,” he said to the old woman.
“You ruin them that way, the good-for-nothings,” said the old woman. “He ought to be treated so that he would remember it for a whole week.”
“Eh,” said Martuin, “that is right according to our judgment, but not according to God’s. If he is to be whipped for an apple, the what do we deserve for our sins?”
The old woman was silent.
Martuin told her the parable of the chosen who forgave a debtor all that he owed him, and how the debtor went and began to choke one who owed him.
The old woman listened, and the boy stood listening.
“God has commanded us to forgive,” said Martuin, “else we, too, may not be forgiven. All should be forgiven, and the thoughtless especially.”
The old woman shook her head, and sighed.
“That’s so,” said she; “but the trouble is, that they are very much spoiled.”
“Then, we, who are older, must teach them,” said Martuin.
“That’s just what I say,” remarked the old woman. “I myself had seven of them-only one daughter is left.” And the old woman began to relate where and how she lived with her daughter, and how many grandchildren she had. “Here,” she says, “my strength is only so-so, and yet I have to work. I pity the youngsters-my grandchildren-how nice they are! No one gives me such a welcome as they do. My daughter won’t go to any one but me” and the old woman grew quite sentimental.
“Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with him,” said she, pointing to the boy. The woman was just about to lift the bag upon her shoulder, when the boy ran up, and says, “Let me carry it, babushka: it is on my way.”
The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag on the boy’s back.
Side by side they both passed along the street. And the old woman even forgot to ask Martuin to pay for the apple.
Martuin stood motionless, and kept gazing after them; and he heard them talking all the time as they walked away. After Martuin saw them disappear, he returned to his room; he found his eyeglasses on the stairs-they were not broken; he picked up his awl, and sat down to work again.
After working a little while, it grew darker, so that he could not see to sew: he saw the lamplighter passing by to light the street-lamps.
“It must be time to make a light,” he thought to himself; so he fixed his little lamp, hung it up, and betook himself again to work. He had one boot already finished; he turned it around, looked at it: “Well done.” He put away his tools, swept off the cuttings, cleared off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, put it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf.
He intended to open the book at the very place where he had yesterday put a piece of leather as a mark, but it happened to open at another place; and the moment Martuin opened the Testament, he recollected his last night’s dream. And as soon as he remembered it, it seemed as though he heard some one stepping about behind him. Martuin looked around, and sees-there, in the dark corner, it seemed as though people were standing: he was at a loss to know who they were. And a voice whispered in his ear-”Martuin-ah, Martuin! did you not recognize me?”
“Who?” uttered Martuin.
“Me,” repeated the voice. “It’s I;” and Stepanuitch stepped forth from the dark corner; he smiled, and like a little cloud faded away, and soon vanished.
“And this is I,” said the voice. From the dark corner stepped forth the woman with her child: the woman smiled, the child laughed, and
they also vanished.
“And this is I,” continued the voice; both the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward; both smiled and vanished.
Martuin’s soul rejoiced: he crossed himself, put on his eyeglasses, and began to read the Evangelists where it happened to open. On the upper Part of the page he read-”For I
