Part 64 (1/2)

”Oh, granny, granny!” said Avdyeich. ”That is according to our ways, but how is that according to G.o.d's ways? If he is to be whipped for an apple, what ought to be done with us for our sins?”

The old woman grew silent.

And Avdyeich told the old woman the parable of the lord who forgave his servant his whole large debt, after which the servant went and took his fellow servant who was his debtor by the throat. The old woman listened to him, and the boy stood and listened, too.

”G.o.d has commanded that we should forgive,” said Avdyeich, ”or else we, too, shall not be forgiven. All are to be forgiven, but most of all an unthinking person.”

The old woman shook her head and sighed.

”That is so,” said the old woman, ”but they are very much spoiled nowadays.”

”Then we old people ought to teach them,” said Avdyeich.

”That is what I say,” said the old woman. ”I myself had seven of them,--but only one daughter is left now.” And the old woman began to tell where and how she was living with her daughter, and how many grandchildren she had. ”My strength is waning,” she said, ”but still I work. I am sorry for my grandchildren, and they are such nice children,--n.o.body else meets me the way they do. Aksyutka will not go to anybody from me. 'Granny, granny dear, darling!'” And the old woman melted with tenderness.

”Of course, he is but a child,--G.o.d be with him!” the old woman said about the boy.

She wanted to lift the bag on her shoulders, when the boy jumped up to her, and said:

”Let me carry it, granny! I am going that way.”

The old woman shook her head and threw the bag on the boy's shoulders.

They walked together down the street. The old woman had forgotten to ask Avdyeich to pay her for the apple. Avdyeich stood awhile, looking at them and hearing them talk as they walked along.

When they disappeared from sight, he returned to his room. He found his gla.s.ses on the staircase,--they were not broken,--and he picked up his awl and again sat down to work. He worked for awhile; he could not find the holes with the bristle, when he looked up and saw the lampman lighting the lamps.

”It is evidently time to strike a light,” he thought, and he got up and fixed the lamp and hung it on the hook, and sat down again to work. He finished a boot: he turned it around and looked at it, and he saw that it was well done. He put down his tool, swept up the clippings, put away the bristles and the remnants and the awls, took the lamp and put it on the table, and fetched the Gospel from the shelf. He wanted to open the book where he had marked it the day before with a morocco clipping, but he opened it in another place. And just as he went to open the Gospel, he thought of his dream of the night before. And just as he thought of it, it appeared to him as though something were moving and stepping behind him. He looked around, and, indeed, it looked as though people were standing in the dark corner, but he could not make out who they were. And a voice whispered to him:

”Martn, oh, Martn, have you not recognized me?”

”Whom?” asked Avdyeich.

”Me,” said the voice. ”It is I.”

And out of the dark corner came Stepanych, and he smiled and vanished like a cloud and was no more.

”And it is I,” said a voice.

And out of the dark corner came the woman with the babe, and the woman smiled and the child laughed, and they, too, disappeared.

”And it is I,” said a voice.

And out came the old woman and the boy with the apple, and both smiled and vanished.

And joy fell on Avdyeich's heart, and he made the sign of the cross, put on his gla.s.ses, and began to read the Gospel, there where he had opened it. And at the top of the page he read: