This is a modern-English version of Where Love is There God is Also, originally written by Tolstoy, Leo, graf.
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Transcriber's Note:
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including any non-standard spelling.
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as accurately as possible, including any unconventional spelling.
WHERE LOVE IS
THERE GOD IS ALSO
WHERE LOVE LIVES
GOD IS THERE TOO
WHERE LOVE ISWHERE LOVE LIVES
THERE GOD IS ALSO
BY
LYOF N. TOLSTOI
BY
LEO N. TOLSTOY
TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN
BY
NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN
BY
NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1887,
By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Copyright, 1887,
By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
WHERE LOVE IS
THERE GOD IS ALSO
WHERE LOVE EXISTS
GOD IS THERE TOO
In the city lived the shoemaker, Martuin Avdyeitch. He lived in a basement, in a little room with one window. The window looked out on the street. Through the window he used to watch the people passing by; although only their feet could be seen, yet by the boots, Martuin Avdyeitch recognized the people. Martuin Avdyeitch had lived long in one place, and had many acquaintances. Few pairs of boots in his district had not been in his hands once and again. Some he would half-sole, some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and occasionally he would also put on new uppers. And through the window he often recognized his work.
In the city lived the shoemaker, Martuin Avdyeitch. He resided in a basement, in a small room with one window. The window faced the street. Through it, he used to watch the people walking by; although he could only see their feet, he recognized them by their boots. Martuin Avdyeitch had lived in one place for a long time and had many acquaintances. There were few pairs of boots in his area that hadn't been in his hands at least once. Some he would half-sole, some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and occasionally he would also replace the uppers. Through the window, he often spotted his work.
Avdyeitch had plenty to do, because he was a faithful workman, used good material, did not make exorbitant charges, and kept his word. If it was possible for him to finish an order by a certain time, he would accept it; otherwise, he would not deceive you,—he would tell you so beforehand. And all knew Avdyeitch, and he was never out of work.
Avdyeitch had a lot on his plate because he was a reliable worker, used quality materials, charged fair prices, and always kept his promises. If he could complete a job by a certain deadline, he would take it on; if not, he wouldn’t mislead you—he would let you know in advance. Everyone knew Avdyeitch, and he was never without work.
Avdyeitch had always been a good man; but as he grew old, he began to think more about his soul, and get nearer to God. Martuin's wife had died when he was still living with his master. His wife left him a boy three years old. None of their other children had lived. All the eldest had died in childhood. Martuin at first intended to send his little son to his sister in the village, but afterward he felt sorry for him; he thought to himself:—
Avdyeitch had always been a good man; but as he got older, he started thinking more about his soul and getting closer to God. Martuin's wife had passed away while he was still with his master. She left him with a three-year-old boy. None of their other children had survived. All of the eldest had died in childhood. At first, Martuin thought about sending his little son to his sister in the village, but later he felt sorry for him; he thought to himself:—
“It will be hard for my Kapitoshka to live in a strange family. I shall keep him with me.”
“It’s going to be tough for my Kapitoshka to live in a strange family. I’ll keep him with me.”
And Avdyeitch left his master, and went into lodgings with his little son. But God gave Avdyeitch no luck with his children. As Kapitoshka grew older, he began to help his father, and would have been a delight to him, but a sickness fell on him, he went to bed, suffered a week, and died. Martuin buried his son, and fell into despair. So deep was this despair that he began to complain of God. Martuin fell into such a melancholy state, that more than once he prayed to God for death, and reproached God because He had not taken him who was an old man, instead of his beloved only son. Avdyeitch also ceased to go to church.
And Avdyeitch left his master and moved into a place with his little son. But God didn’t bless Avdyeitch with good fortune for his children. As Kapitoshka grew older, he started to help his father, and would have brought him joy, but then he got sick, went to bed, suffered for a week, and died. Martuin buried his son and fell into despair. His despair was so deep that he began to complain to God. Martuin became so melancholic that he prayed to God for death more than once and criticized God for not taking him, an old man, instead of his beloved only son. Avdyeitch also stopped going to church.
And once a little old man from the same district came from Troïtsa(1) to see Avdyeitch; for seven years he had been wandering about. Avdyeitch talked with him, and began to complain about his sorrows.
And one day, a little old man from the same area came from Troïtsa(1) to see Avdyeitch; he had been wandering for seven years. Avdyeitch talked with him and started to share his troubles.
“I have no desire to live any longer,” he said, “I only wish I was dead. That is all I pray God for. I am a man without anything to hope for now.”
“I don’t want to live anymore,” he said. “I just wish I was dead. That’s all I pray to God for. I’m a man with nothing to hope for now.”
And the little old man said to him:—
And the little old man said to him:—
“You don't talk right, Martuin, we must not judge God's doings. The world moves, not by our skill, but by God's will. God decreed for your son to die,—for you—to live. So it is for the best. And you are in despair, because you wish to live for your own happiness.”
“You don’t speak correctly, Martuin, we shouldn’t judge God’s actions. The world operates, not through our abilities, but through God’s will. God decided for your son to die—for you—to live. That’s how it is for the best. And you are in despair because you want to live for your own happiness.”
“But what shall one live for?” asked Martuin.
“But what should one live for?” asked Martuin.
And the little old man said:—
And the little old man said:—
“We must live for God, Martuin. He gives you life, and for His sake you must live. When you begin to live for Him, you will not grieve over anything, and all will seem easy to you.”
“We must live for God, Martuin. He gives you life, and for His sake, you must live. When you start living for Him, you won’t grieve over anything, and everything will seem easy to you.”
Martuin kept silent for a moment, and then said, “But how can one live for God?”
Martuin was quiet for a moment, and then said, “But how can someone live for God?”
And the little old man said:—
And the little old man said:—
“Christ has taught us how to live for God. You know how to read? Buy a Testament, and read it; there you will learn how to live for God. Everything is explained there.”
“Christ has shown us how to live for God. Can you read? Get a Testament and read it; there you will learn how to live for God. Everything is explained there.”
And these words kindled a fire in Avdyeitch's heart. And he went that very same day, bought a New Testament in large print, and began to read.
And those words sparked something inside Avdyeitch. That very day, he went out, bought a large-print New Testament, and started reading.
At first Avdyeitch intended to read only on holidays; but as he began to read, it so cheered his soul that he used to read every day. At times he would become so absorbed in reading, that all the kerosene in the lamp would burn out, and still he could not tear himself away. And so Avdyeitch used to read every evening.
At first, Avdyeitch planned to read only on holidays, but as he started reading, it made him so happy that he began to read every day. Sometimes he would get so caught up in his reading that all the kerosene in the lamp would burn out, yet he still couldn’t pull himself away. So, Avdyeitch continued to read every evening.
And the more he read, the clearer he understood what God wanted of him, and how one should live for God; and his heart kept growing easier and easier. Formerly, when he lay down to sleep, he used to sigh and groan, and always thought of his Kapitoshka; and now his only exclamation was:—
And the more he read, the clearer he understood what God wanted from him, and how to live for God; and his heart kept getting lighter. In the past, when he went to sleep, he would sigh and groan, always thinking about his Kapitoshka; but now his only exclamation was:—
“Glory to Thee! glory to Thee, Lord! Thy will be done.”
“Praise to You! Praise to You, Lord! May Your will be done.”
And from that time Avdyeitch's whole life was changed. In other days he, too, used to drop into a public-house(2) as a holiday amusement, to drink a cup of tea; and he was not averse to a little brandy, either. He would take a drink with some acquaintance, and leave the saloon, not intoxicated, exactly, yet in a happy frame of mind, and inclined to talk nonsense, and shout, and use abusive language at a person. Now he left off that sort of thing. His life became quiet and joyful. In the morning he would sit down to work, finish his allotted task, then take the little lamp from the hook, put it on the table, get his book from the shelf, open it, and sit down to read. And the more he read, the more he understood, and the brighter and happier it grew in his heart.
And from that point on, Avdyeitch's entire life was transformed. In the past, he would occasionally drop into a bar(2) for some holiday fun, sipping a cup of tea, and he didn’t mind having a bit of brandy as well. He'd share a drink with someone he knew and leave the bar—not exactly drunk, but in a cheerful mood, ready to chat, laugh, and maybe even use some colorful language. Now, he stopped all that. His life became calm and joyful. In the mornings, he would sit down to work, complete his assigned tasks, then take the small lamp from the hook, place it on the table, grab his book from the shelf, open it up, and settle in to read. The more he read, the more he understood, and his heart grew brighter and happier.
Once it happened that Martuin read till late into the night. He was reading the Gospel of Luke. He was reading over the sixth chapter; and he was reading the verses:—
Once, Martuin found himself reading late into the night. He was diving into the Gospel of Luke. He was going over the sixth chapter and reading the verses:—
“And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to every man that asketh of thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.”
And if someone hits you on one cheek, offer them the other one as well; and if someone takes your cloak, don’t stop them from taking your coat too. Give to everyone who asks you; and if someone takes away your things, don’t ask for them back. Treat others the way you want to be treated.
He read farther also those verses, where God speaks:
He also read further those verses where God speaks:
“And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say? Whosoever cometh to me, and heareth my sayings, and doeth them, I will shew you to whom he is like: he is like a man which built an house, and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock: and when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon that house, and could not shake it; for it was founded upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is like a man that without a foundation built an house upon the earth; against which the stream did beat vehemently, and immediately it fell; and the ruin of that house was great.”
Why do you call me, Lord, Lord, and not do what I say? Anyone who comes to me, hears my words, and puts them into practice, I will show you what they are like: they are like a person who built a house, dug deep, and laid the foundation on a rock. When the flood came, the river beat against that house, but could not shake it because it was built on rock. But the one who hears and does not do what I say is like a person who built a house without a foundation on the ground. The river struck that house and immediately it collapsed, and the destruction of that house was immense.
Avdyeitch read these words, and joy filled his soul. He took off his spectacles, put them down on the book, leaned his elbows on the table, and became lost in thought. And he began to measure his life by these words. And he thought to himself:—
Avdyeitch read these words, and joy filled his soul. He took off his glasses, placed them on the book, leaned his elbows on the table, and got lost in thought. He started to measure his life by these words. And he thought to himself:—
“Is my house built on the rock, or on the sand? 'Tis well if on the rock. It is so easy when you are alone by yourself; it seems as if you had done everything as God commands; but when you forget yourself, you sin again. Yet I shall still struggle on. It is very good. Help me, Lord!”
“Is my house built on the rock or on the sand? It’s great if it’s on the rock. It feels easy when you’re alone; it seems like you’ve done everything God wants. But when you lose focus, you sin again. Still, I’ll keep fighting. It’s really good. Help me, Lord!”
Thus ran his thoughts; he wanted to go to bed, but he felt loath to tear himself away from the book. And he began to read farther in the seventh chapter. He read about the centurion, he read about the widow's son, he read about the answer given to John's disciples, and finally he came to that place where the rich Pharisee desired the Lord to sit at meat with him; and he read how the woman that was a sinner anointed His feet, and washed them with her tears, and how He forgave her. He reached the forty-fourth verse, and began to read:—
Thus ran his thoughts; he wanted to go to bed, but he felt reluctant to pull himself away from the book. So he started reading further into the seventh chapter. He read about the centurion, the widow's son, the response given to John's disciples, and finally reached the part where the rich Pharisee invited the Lord to dinner. He read how the woman who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them with her tears, and how He forgave her. He got to the forty-fourth verse and began to read:—
“And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.”
And he turned to the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house, and you didn't give me any water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You didn’t give me a kiss, but this woman has not stopped kissing my feet since I arrived. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with perfume."
He finished reading these verses, and thought to himself:—
He finished reading these lines and thought to himself:—
“Thou gavest me no water for my feet, thou gavest me no kiss. My head with oil thou didst not anoint.”
You didn't give me any water for my feet, you didn't give me a kiss. You didn't anoint my head with oil.
And again Avdyeitch took off his spectacles, put them down on the book, and again he became lost in thought.
And once more, Avdyeitch removed his glasses, set them down on the book, and once again fell deep into thought.
“It seems that Pharisee must have been such a man as I am. I, too, apparently have thought only of myself,—how I might have my tea, be warm and comfortable, but never to think about my guest. He thought about himself, but there was not the least care taken of the guest. And who was his guest? The Lord Himself. If He had come to me, should I have done the same way?”
“It seems that the Pharisee must have been a person like me. I, too, have clearly focused only on myself—how I could enjoy my tea, stay warm and comfortable, but never thought about my guest. He considered himself, but didn’t show any care for his guest. And who was his guest? The Lord Himself. If He had come to me, would I have acted the same way?”
Avdyeitch rested his head upon both his arms, and did not notice that he fell asleep.
Avdyeitch rested his head on both his arms and didn’t realize he had fallen asleep.
“Martuin!” suddenly seemed to sound in his ears.
“Martuin!” suddenly echoed in his ears.
Martuin started from his sleep:—
Martuin woke up:—
“Who is here?”
"Who's here?"
He turned around, glanced toward the door—no one.
He turned around and looked at the door—no one there.
Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly, he plainly heard:—
Again he dozed off. Suddenly, he clearly heard:—
“Martuin! Ah, Martuin! look to-morrow on the street. I am coming.”
“Martuin! Oh, Martuin! look for me tomorrow on the street. I’m coming.”
Martuin awoke, rose from the chair, began to rub his eyes. He himself could not tell whether he heard those words in his dream, or in reality. He turned down his lamp, and went to bed.
Martuin woke up, got up from the chair, and started rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t tell if he had heard those words in his dream or in real life. He turned off his lamp and went to bed.
And while he was working, he kept thinking about all that had happened the day before. It seemed to him at one moment that it was a dream, and now he had really heard a voice.
And while he was working, he kept thinking about everything that had happened the day before. At one point, it felt like a dream, and now he was sure he had actually heard a voice.
“Well,” he said to himself, “such things have been.”
"Well," he said to himself, "things like that have happened."
Martuin was sitting by the window, and looking out more than he was working. When anyone passed by in boots which he did not know, he would bend down, look out of the window, in order to see, not only the feet, but also the face.
Martuin was sitting by the window, and he was more focused on watching outside than on his work. Whenever someone walked by in unfamiliar boots, he would lean down and look out the window to see not just their feet but also their face.
The dvornik(5) passed by in new felt boots,(6) the water-carrier passed by; then there came up to the window an old soldier of Nicholas's time, in an old pair of laced felt boots, with a shovel in his hands. Avdyeitch recognized him by his felt boots. The old man's name was Stepanuitch; and a neighboring merchant, out of charity, gave him a home with him. He was required to assist the dvornik. Stepanuitch began to shovel away the snow from in front of Avdyeitch's window. Avdyeitch glanced at him, and took up his work again.
The janitor passed by in new felt boots; then the water-carrier walked by. Next, an old soldier from Nicholas's time came up to the window, wearing an old pair of laced felt boots and holding a shovel. Avdyeitch recognized him by his felt boots. The old man's name was Stepanuitch, and a nearby merchant, out of kindness, provided him with a place to stay. He was supposed to help the janitor. Stepanuitch started shoveling the snow from in front of Avdyeitch's window. Avdyeitch glanced at him and went back to his work.
“Pshaw! I must be getting crazy in my old age,” said Avdyeitch, and laughed at himself. “Stepanuitch is clearing away the snow, and I imagine that Christ is coming to see me. I was entirely out of my mind, old dotard that I am!”
“Pshaw! I must be losing it in my old age,” said Avdyeitch, laughing at himself. “Stepanuitch is shoveling the snow, and I keep thinking that Christ is coming to see me. I’ve completely lost my mind, old fool that I am!”
Avdyeitch sewed about a dozen stitches, and then felt impelled to look through the window again. He looked out again through the window, and saw that Stepanuitch had leaned his shovel against the wall, and was warming himself, and resting. He was an old, broken-down man; evidently he had not strength enough even to shovel the snow. Avdyeitch said to himself:—
Avdyeitch sewed about a dozen stitches, and then felt the urge to look out the window again. He peered through the glass and saw that Stepanuitch had propped his shovel against the wall, warming himself and taking a break. He was an old, worn-out man; it was clear he didn’t even have the strength to shovel the snow. Avdyeitch thought to himself:—
“I will give him some tea; by the way, the samovar has only just gone out.” Avdyeitch laid down his awl, rose from his seat, put the samovar on the table, poured out the tea, and tapped with his finger at the glass. Stepanuitch turned around, and came to the window. Avdyeitch beckoned to him, and went to open the door.
“I'll make him some tea; by the way, the samovar has just gone out.” Avdyeitch put down his awl, stood up, placed the samovar on the table, poured the tea, and tapped his finger on the glass. Stepanuitch turned around and walked to the window. Avdyeitch waved him over and went to open the door.
“Come in, warm yourself a little,” he said. “You must be cold.”
“Come in, warm up a bit,” he said. “You must be cold.”
“May Christ reward you for this! my bones ache,” said Stepanuitch.
“May Christ reward you for this! My bones ache,” said Stepanuitch.
Stepanuitch came in, and shook off the snow, tried to wipe his feet, so as not to soil the floor, but staggered.
Stepanuitch came in, shook off the snow, and tried to wipe his feet to avoid dirtying the floor, but he stumbled.
“Don't trouble to wipe your feet. I will clean it up myself; we are used to such things. Come in and sit down,” said Avdyeitch. “Here, drink a cup of tea.”
“Don’t worry about wiping your feet. I’ll clean it up myself; we’re used to it. Come in and have a seat,” said Avdyeitch. “Here, have a cup of tea.”
And Avdyeitch lifted two glasses, and handed one to his guest; while he himself poured his tea into a saucer, and began to blow it.
And Avdyeitch lifted two glasses and handed one to his guest while he poured his tea into a saucer and started blowing on it.
Stepanuitch finished drinking his glass of tea, turned the glass upside down,(7) put the half-eaten lump of sugar on it, and began to express his thanks. But it was evident he wanted some more.
Stepanuitch finished his glass of tea, flipped the glass upside down, put the half-eaten piece of sugar on it, and started to thank them. But it was clear he wanted more.
“Have some more,” said Avdyeitch, filling both his own glass and his guest's. Avdyeitch drank his tea, but from time to time glanced out into the street.
“Have some more,” said Avdyeitch, pouring both his own glass and his guest's. Avdyeitch sipped his tea, but occasionally looked out into the street.
“Are you expecting anyone?” asked his guest.
“Are you expecting someone?” asked his guest.
“Am I expecting anyone? I am ashamed even to tell whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting someone; but one word has kindled a fire in my heart. Whether it is a dream, or something else, I do not know. Don't you see, brother, I was reading yesterday the Gospel about Christ the Batyushka; how He suffered, how He walked on the earth. I suppose you have heard about it?”
“Am I expecting someone? I’m even a bit embarrassed to say who I'm waiting for. I am and I'm not expecting someone; but one word has sparked a fire in my heart. Whether it’s a dream or something else, I can't tell. Don’t you see, brother, I was reading yesterday the Gospel about Christ the Father; how He suffered, how He walked the earth. I guess you’ve heard about it?”
“Indeed I have,” replied Stepanuitch; “but we are people in darkness, we can't read.”
“Indeed I have,” replied Stepanuitch; “but we’re people in the dark, we can’t read.”
“Well, now, I was reading about that very thing,—how He walked on the earth; I read, you know, how He came to the Pharisee, and the Pharisee did not treat Him hospitably. Well, and so, my brother, I was reading yesterday, about this very thing, and was thinking to myself how he did not receive Christ, the Batyushka, with honor. Suppose, for example, He should come to me, or anyone else, I said to myself, I should not even know how to receive Him. And he gave Him no reception at all. Well! while I was thus thinking, I fell asleep, brother, and I heard someone call me by name. I got up; the voice, just as if someone whispered, said, ‘Be on the watch; I shall come to-morrow.’ And this happened twice. Well! would you believe it, it got into my head? I scolded myself—and yet I am expecting Him, the Batyushka.”
"Well, I was reading about that very thing—how He walked on the earth. I read, you know, about how He came to the Pharisee, and the Pharisee didn't treat Him kindly. So, my brother, I was reading about this yesterday and thinking about how he didn't receive Christ, the Father, with respect. I wondered, for example, if He were to come to me or anyone else, and I realized I wouldn’t even know how to welcome Him. And he didn't give Him any reception at all. While I was thinking about this, I fell asleep, brother, and I heard someone call me by name. I woke up; the voice, as if someone whispered, said, 'Be on the lookout; I'll come tomorrow.' This happened twice. Well! Would you believe it got stuck in my head? I scolded myself—and here I am, still waiting for Him, the Father."
Stepanuitch shook his head, and said nothing; he finished drinking his glass of tea, and put it on the side; but Avdyeitch picked up the glass again, and filled it once more.
Stepanuitch shook his head and said nothing; he finished his glass of tea and set it aside. But Avdyeitch picked up the glass again and filled it once more.
“Drink some more for your good health. You see, I have an idea that, when the Batyushka went about on this earth, He disdained no one, and had more to do with the simple people. He always went to see the simple people. He picked out His disciples more from among folk like such sinners as we are, from the working class. Said He, whoever exalts himself, shall be humbled, and he who is humbled shall become exalted. Said He, you call me Lord, and, said He, I wash your feet. Whoever wishes, said He, to be the first, the same shall be a servant to all. Because, said He, blessed are the poor, the humble, the kind, the generous.”
“Drink some more for your good health. You see, I believe that when the Lord walked this earth, He didn't look down on anyone and spent more time with ordinary people. He always visited the simple folks. He chose His disciples mostly from people like us, from the working class. He said, whoever lifts themselves up will be brought down, and those who are humble will be raised up. He said, you call me Lord, and yet I wash your feet. Whoever wants to be first must be a servant to everyone. For He said, blessed are the poor, the humble, the kind, and the generous.”
And Stepanuitch forgot about his tea; he was an old man, and easily moved to tears. He was listening, and the tears rolled down his face.
And Stepanuitch forgot about his tea; he was an old man and was quick to cry. He was listening, and the tears streamed down his face.
“Come, now, have some more tea,” said Avdyeitch; but Stepanuitch made the sign of the cross, thanked him, turned down his glass, and arose.
“Come on, have some more tea,” said Avdyeitch; but Stepanuitch made the sign of the cross, thanked him, put his glass down, and stood up.
“Thanks to you,” he says, “Martuin Avdyeitch, for treating me kindly, and satisfying me, soul and body.”
“Thanks to you,” he says, “Martuin Avdyeitch, for being so kind to me and fulfilling my needs, both physically and emotionally.”
“You are welcome; come in again; always glad to see a friend,” said Avdyeitch.
"You’re welcome; come in anytime; it’s always great to see a friend," said Avdyeitch.
Stepanuitch departed; and Martuin poured out the rest of the tea, drank it up, put away the dishes, and sat down again by the window to work, to stitch on a patch. He kept stitching away, and at the same time looking through the window. He was expecting Christ, and was all the while thinking of Him and His deeds, and his head was filled with the different speeches of Christ.
Stepanuitch left, and Martuin finished the tea, drank the last of it, put away the dishes, and sat down by the window again to work on a patch. He kept stitching while also looking out the window. He was expecting Christ and couldn’t help but think about Him and His actions, his mind filled with various sayings of Christ.
Two soldiers passed by: one wore boots furnished by the crown, and the other one, boots that he had made; then the master(8) of the next house passed by in shining galoshes; then a baker with a basket passed by. All passed by; and now there came also by the window a woman in woolen stockings and rustic bashmaks on her feet. She passed by the window, and stood still near the window-case.
Two soldiers walked by: one had on crown-provided boots, and the other wore boots he made himself; then the master of the next house walked by in shiny galoshes; next, a baker with a basket passed by. They all went by; and then a woman in woolen stockings and rustic bashmaks on her feet came by the window. She walked past the window and stopped near the window casing.
Avdyeitch looked up at her from the window, and saw it was a stranger, a woman poorly clad, and with a child; she was standing by the wall with her back to the wind, trying to wrap up the child, and she had nothing to wrap it up in. The woman was dressed in shabby summer clothes; and from behind the frame, Avdyeitch could hear the child crying, and the woman trying to pacify it; but she was not able to pacify it.
Avdyeitch looked up at her from the window and saw a stranger, a woman poorly dressed, with a child. She was standing by the wall, facing away from the wind, trying to wrap the child up, but she had nothing to cover it with. The woman was in worn summer clothes, and from behind the frame, Avdyeitch could hear the child crying while the woman tried to soothe it, but she wasn’t able to calm it down.
Avdyeitch got up, went to the door, ascended the steps, and cried:—
Avdyeitch got up, walked to the door, climbed the steps, and shouted:—
The woman heard him and turned around.
The woman heard him and turned around.
“Why are you standing in the cold with the child? Come into my room, where it is warm; you can manage it better. Here, this way!”
“Why are you standing out in the cold with the kid? Come into my room, where it’s warm; you’ll be more comfortable. This way!”
The woman was astonished. She saw an old, old man in an apron, with spectacles on his nose, calling her to him. She followed him. They descended the steps and entered the room; the old man led the woman to his bed.
The woman was shocked. She saw an elderly man in an apron, wearing glasses, beckoning her to come over. She followed him. They went down the steps and entered the room; the old man guided the woman to his bed.
“There,” says he, “sit down, my good woman, nearer to the stove; you can get warm, and nurse the little one.”
“There,” he says, “sit down, my good woman, closer to the stove; you can warm up and take care of the little one.”
“I have no milk for him. I myself have not eaten anything since morning,” said the woman; but, nevertheless, she took the baby to her breast.
“I don’t have any milk for him. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning,” said the woman; yet, she still brought the baby to her breast.
Avdyeitch shook his head, went to the table, brought out the bread and a dish, opened the oven door, poured into the dish some cabbage soup, took out the pot with the gruel, but it was not cooked as yet; so he filled the dish with shchi only, and put it on the table. He got the bread, took the towel down from the hook, and spread it upon the table.
Avdyeitch shook his head, walked over to the table, took out the bread and a dish, opened the oven door, poured some cabbage soup into the dish, and took out the pot with the gruel. It wasn't cooked yet, so he just filled the dish with shchi and set it on the table. He grabbed the bread, took the towel off the hook, and spread it over the table.
“Sit down,” he says, “and eat, my good woman; and I will mind the little one. You see, I once had children of my own; I know how to handle them.”
“Sit down,” he says, “and eat, my good woman; I’ll take care of the little one. You see, I used to have kids of my own; I know how to handle them.”
The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table, and began to eat; while Avdyeitch took a seat on the bed near the infant. Avdyeitch kept smacking and smacking to it with his lips; but it was a poor kind of smacking, for he had no teeth. The little one kept on crying. And it occured to Avdyeitch to threaten the little one with his finger; he waved, waved his finger right before the child's mouth, and hastily withdrew it. He did not put it to its mouth, because his finger was black, and soiled with wax. And the little one looked at his finger, and became quiet; then it began to smile, and Avdyeitch also was glad. While the woman was eating, she told who she was, and whither she was going.
The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table, and started to eat, while Avdyeitch took a seat on the bed next to the baby. Avdyeitch kept smacking his lips, but it was a weak effort since he had no teeth. The baby continued to cry. Then Avdyeitch got the idea to wave his finger in front of the baby's mouth and quickly pulled it back. He didn’t let it touch the baby’s mouth because his finger was dirty and covered in wax. The baby looked at his finger and quieted down; then it started to smile, and Avdyeitch felt happy too. While the woman was eating, she talked about who she was and where she was going.
Said she:—
She said:—
“I am a soldier's wife. 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 a young woman I know, and so they promised to take us in. I thought that 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.”
“I’m a soldier’s wife. It’s been seven months since they sent my husband away, and I haven’t heard anything. I worked as a cook; the baby was born; no one wanted to take me in with a child. This is the third month I’ve been struggling without a place to stay. I ate up everything I had. I wanted to work as a wet-nurse—no one would hire me—I’m too skinny, they say. I just went to the merchant's wife, where a young woman I know lives, and they promised to take us in. I thought that was it. But she told me to come back next week, and she lives far away. I got worn out; and it wore him out, too, my dear little one. Luckily, our landlady takes pity on us for the sake of Christ and gives us a room; otherwise, I don’t know how I would manage.”
Avdyeitch sighed, and said:
Avdyeitch sighed and said:
“Haven't you any warm clothes?”
"Don't you have any warm clothes?"
“Now is the time, friend, to wear warm clothes; but yesterday I pawned my last shawl for a twenty-kopek piece.”(10)
“Now is the time, friend, to wear warm clothes; but yesterday I pawned my last shawl for a twenty-kopek coin.”(10)
The woman came to the bed, and took the child; and Avdyeitch rose, went to the partition, rummaged round, and succeeded in finding an old coat.
The woman approached the bed and picked up the child; then Avdyeitch stood up, walked over to the partition, searched around, and managed to find an old coat.
“Na!” says he; “It is a poor thing, yet you may turn it to some use.”
“Na!” he says; “It’s not great, but you might find a way to use it.”
The woman looked at the coat and looked at the old man; she took the coat, and burst into tears; and Avdyeitch turned away his head; crawling under the bed, he pushed out a little trunk, rummaged in it, and sat down again opposite the woman.
The woman stared at the coat and then at the old man; she grabbed the coat and started crying; Avdyeitch turned his head away; crawling under the bed, he pulled out a small trunk, searched through it, and sat down again across from the woman.
And the woman said:—
And the woman said:—
“May Christ bless you, little grandfather!(11) He must have sent me to your window. My little baby would have frozen to death. When I started out it was warm, but now it has grown cold. And He, the Batyushka, led you to look through the window and take pity on me, an unfortunate.”
“May Christ bless you, little grandfather!(11) He must have sent me to your window. My little baby would have frozen to death. When I started out, it was warm, but now it has grown cold. And He, the Batyushka, guided you to look through the window and feel pity for me, a poor unfortunate.”
Avdyeitch smiled, and said:—
Avdyeitch smiled and said:—
“Indeed, He did that! I have been looking through the window, my good woman, for some wise reason.”
“Absolutely, He did that! I've been looking through the window, my good lady, for some smart reason.”
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.
And Martuin told the soldier's wife about 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 Avdyeitch again.
“All things are possible,” said the woman. She stood up, put on the coat, wrapped her little child in it, and as she began to say goodbye, she thanked Avdyeitch once more.
“Take this, for Christ's sake,” said Avdyeitch, giving her a twenty-kopek piece; “redeem your shawl.”
“Here, for heaven's sake,” said Avdyeitch, handing her a twenty-kopek coin; “get your shawl back.”
She made the sign of the cross, and Avdyeitch made the sign of the cross and went with her to the door.
She crossed herself, and Avdyeitch crossed himself too, then went with her to the door.
The woman went away. Avdyeitch ate some shchi, washed the dishes, and sat down again to work. While he was working he still remembered the window; when the window grew darker he immediately looked out to see who was passing by. Acquaintances passed by and strangers passed by, and there was nothing out of the ordinary.
The woman left. Avdyeitch had some shchi, washed the dishes, and sat down to work again. While he was working, he still thought about the window; when it started getting darker, he looked out to see who was walking by. Friends walked by and strangers walked by, and nothing seemed unusual.
But here Avdyeitch saw that an old apple woman had stopped in front of his window. She carried a basket with apples. Only a few were left, as she had evidently sold them nearly 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 tried to shift it to the other shoulder. So she lowered the bag on 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.
But here Avdyeitch saw that an old apple woman had stopped in front of his window. She was carrying a basket of apples. There were only a few left, as she had clearly sold most of them; and slung over her shoulder was a bag full of scraps. She must have picked them up from some construction site and was on her way home. It was obvious the bag was heavy on her shoulder; she tried to shift it to the other shoulder. So, she lowered the bag onto the sidewalk, placed the basket of apples on a small post, and started to shake out the splinters from the bag. While she was doing that, a little boy in a tattered cap came by, grabbed an apple from the basket, and was about to run away; but the old woman noticed him, turned around, and caught the kid by his sleeve. The little boy began to struggle, tried to pull away; but the old woman grabbed him with both hands, knocked off his cap, and caught him by his hair.
The little boy was screaming, the old woman was scolding. Avdyeitch 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 spectacles,—and rushed out into the street.
The little boy was shouting, the old woman was nagging. Avdyeitch quickly put away his awl; he tossed it on the floor, jumped to the door—he even tripped on the stairs and dropped his glasses—and ran out into the street.
The old woman was pulling the youngster by his hair, and was scolding and threatening to take him to the policeman; the youngster was defending himself, and denying the charge.
The old woman was yanking the kid by his hair, scolding him and threatening to take him to the police; the kid was trying to defend himself and denying what she said.
“I did not take it,” he said; “What are you licking me for? Let me go!”
“I didn’t take it,” he said. “Why are you licking me? Let me go!”
Avdyeitch tried to separate them. He took the boy by his arm, and said:—
Avdyeitch tried to pull them apart. He grabbed the boy by the arm and said:—
“Let him go, babushka; forgive him, for Christ's sake.”
“Let him go, grandma; forgive him, for God’s sake.”
“I will forgive him so that he won't forget it till the new broom grows. I am going to take the little villain to the police.”
“I'll forgive him so he won't forget it until the new broom grows. I'm going to take the little brat to the police.”
Avdyeitch began to entreat the old woman:—
Avdyeitch started to plead with the old woman:—
“Let him go, babushka,” he said, “he will never do it again. Let him go, for Christ's sake.”
“Let him go, grandma,” he said, “he will never do it again. Let him go, for God's sake.”
The old woman let him loose; the boy started to run, but Avdyeitch kept him back.
The old woman let him go; the boy started to run, but Avdyeitch held him back.
“Ask the babushka's forgiveness,” he said, “and don't you ever do it again; I saw you take the apple.”
“Ask the grandma for forgiveness,” he said, “and don’t ever do it again; I saw you take the apple.”
The boy burst into tears, and began to ask forgiveness.
The boy broke down in tears and started to ask for forgiveness.
“There now! that's right; and here's an apple for you.”
“There you go! That's right; and here's an apple for you.”
And Avdyeitch took an apple from the basket, and gave it to the boy.
And Avdyeitch took an apple from the basket and handed it to the boy.
“I will pay you for it, babushka,” he said to the old woman.
“I'll pay you for it, grandma,” 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.”
“You ruin them like that, the useless ones,” said the old woman. “He should be treated in a way that he remembers it for a whole week.”
“Eh, babushka, babushka,” said Avdyeitch, “that is right according to our judgment, but not according to God's. If he is to be whipped for an apple, then what ought to be done to us for our sins?”
“Eh, grandma, grandma,” said Avdyeitch, “that might be how we see it, but not how God does. If he gets punished for an apple, then what should happen to us for our sins?”
The old woman was silent.
The elderly woman was quiet.
And Avdyeitch told her the parable of the master who forgave a debtor all that he owed him, and how the debtor went and began to choke one who owed him.
And Avdyeitch told her the story of the master who forgave a debtor for all the money he owed him, and how the debtor went out and started to choke someone who owed him money.
The old woman listened, and the boy stood listening.
The old woman listened, and the boy stood there listening.
“God has commanded us to forgive,” said Avdyeitch, “else we, too, may not be forgiven. All should be forgiven, and the thoughtless especially.”
“God has commanded us to forgive,” said Avdyeitch, “or else we may not be forgiven ourselves. Everyone should be forgiven, especially those who are thoughtless.”
The old woman shook her head, and sighed.
The old woman shook her head and sighed.
“That's so,” said she; “but the trouble is that they are very much spoiled.”
"That's true," she said, "but the problem is that they are really spoiled."
“Then we who are older must teach them,” said Avdyeitch.
“Then we who are older need to teach them,” said Avdyeitch.
“That's just what I say,” remarked the old woman. “I myself have had seven of them,—only one daughter is left.”
“That's exactly what I say,” the old woman replied. “I’ve 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—but what nice children they are! No one gives me such a welcome as they do. Aksintka won't go to anyone but me. ‘Babushka, dear babushka, lovliest.’”
And the old woman started to share where and how she lived with her daughter and how many grandchildren she had. “Here,” she said, “I'm not as strong as I used to be, and yet I have to work. I feel sorry for the young ones—my grandchildren—but they are such great kids! No one welcomes me like they do. Aksintka won't go to anyone but me. ‘Grandma, dear grandma, the loveliest.’”
And the old woman grew quite sentimental.
And the old woman became quite sentimental.
“Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with him,” said she, pointing to the boy.
“Of course, it’s a silly trick. God be with him,” she said, pointing at the boy.
The woman was just about to lift the bag up on her shoulder, when the boy ran up, and said:—
The woman was just about to throw the bag over her shoulder when the boy ran up and said:—
“Let me carry it, babushka; it is on my way.”
“Let me carry it, grandma; it's on my way.”
The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag on the boy's back.
The elderly woman nodded and placed the bag on the boy's back.
And side by side they passed along the street.
And they walked side by side down the street.
And the old woman even forgot to ask Avdyeitch to pay for the apple. Avdyeitch stood motionless, and kept gazing after them; and he heard them talking all the time as they walked away. After Avdyeitch saw them disappear, he returned to his room; he found his eye-glasses on the stairs,—they were not broken; he picked up his awl, and sat down to work again.
And the old woman even forgot to ask Avdyeitch to pay for the apple. Avdyeitch stood still, watching them as they walked away, and he could hear them talking the whole time. After he saw them disappear, he went back to his room; he found his glasses on the stairs—they weren’t 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.
After working for a bit, it got darker, so he couldn't see to sew anymore; he noticed the lamplighter passing by to light the street lamps.
“It must be time to make a light,” he said to himself; so he got his little lamp ready, hung it up, and he took himself again to his 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, set 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 Avdyeitch opened the Testament, he recollected his last night's dream. And as soon as he remembered it, it seemed as if he heard someone stepping about behind him. Avdyeitch looked around, and saw—there, in the dark corner, it seemed as if people were standing; he was at a loss to know who they were. And a voice whispered in his ear:—
“It must be time to light the lamp,” he said to himself; so he got his little lamp ready, hung it up, and went back to his work. He had one boot already finished; he turned it around, looked at it: “Well done.” He put away his tools, swept up the scraps, cleared off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, set it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He meant to open the book at the spot where he had placed a piece of leather as a bookmark yesterday, but it happened to open somewhere else; and the moment Avdyeitch opened the Testament, he remembered his dream from last night. As soon as he recalled it, it felt like he heard someone walking behind him. Avdyeitch looked around and saw—there, in the dark corner, it looked like people were standing; he was unsure who they were. And a voice whispered in his ear:—
“Martuin—ah, Martuin! did you not recognize me?”
“Martuin—oh, Martuin! Did you not recognize me?”
“Who?” exclaimed Avdyeitch.
“Who?” shouted Avdyeitch.
“Me,” repeated the voice. “It was I;” and Stepanuitch stepped forth from the dark corner; he smiled, and like a little cloud faded away, and soon vanished.
“Me,” repeated the voice. “It was me;” and Stepanuitch stepped out from the dark corner; he smiled, and like a little cloud faded away, and soon disappeared.
“And it was I,” said the voice.
“And it was me,” said the voice.
From the dark corner stepped forth the woman with her child; the woman smiled, the child laughed, and they also vanished,
From the dark corner, a woman stepped out with her child; the woman smiled, the child laughed, and then they both disappeared.
“And it was I,” continued the voice; both the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward; both smiled and vanished.
“And it was me,” continued the voice; both the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward; both smiled and disappeared.
Avdyeitch's soul rejoiced; he crossed himself, put on his spectacles, and began to read the Evangelists where it happened to open. On the upper part of the page he read:—
Avdyeitch's soul was filled with joy; he crossed himself, put on his glasses, and started reading the Gospels wherever it happened to open. At the top of the page, he read:—
“For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”
For I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.
And on the lower part of the page he read this:—
And on the bottom of the page, he read this:—
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”—St. Matthew, Chap. xxv.
As much as you have done it for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you have done it for me.”—St. Matthew, Chap. xxv.
And Avdyeitch understood that his dream had not deceived him; that the Saviour really called on him that day, and that he really received Him.
And Avdyeitch realized that his dream had not fooled him; that the Savior truly called on him that day, and that he really accepted Him.
(2) Traktir.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Treat.
(3) Cabbage-soup.
Cabbage soup.
(4) Gruel.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Oatmeal.
(5) House-porter.
Doorman.
(6) Valenki.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Valenki.
(8) Khozyaïn.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Owner.
(9) Umnitsa aumnitsa! literally, clever one.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Clever one!
(10) Dvagrivennui, silver, worth sixteen cents.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Dvagrivennui, silver, worth 16 cents.
(11) Diedushka.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Grandpa.
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