d all about the Widow's Son, he read all about the
answer to the disciples of St. John; and so he came to that place where
the rich Pharisee invites our Lord to be his guest. And he read all about
how the woman who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them with her
tears, and how He justified her. And so he came at last to the forty-fourth
verse, and there he read these words, "And He turned to the woman and
said to Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou
gavest Me no water for My feet; but she has 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. Mine
head with oil thou didst not anoint."

And again Avdyeeich took off his glasses, and laid them on the book, and
fell a-thinking.

"So it is quite plain that I too have something of the Pharisee about me.
Am I not always thinking of myself? Am I not always thinking of drinking
tea, and keeping myself as warm and cozy as possible, without thinking at
all about the guest? Simon thought about himself, but did not give the
slightest thought to his guest. But who was the guest? The Lord Himself.
And suppose He were to come to me, should I treat Him as the Pharisee
did?"

And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the table and, without perceiving
it, fell a-dozing.

"Martin!"--it was as though the voice of some one close to his ear.

Martin started up from his nap. "Who's there?"

He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there was no one. Again he
dozed off. Suddenly he heard quite plainly, "Martin, Martin, I say! Look
to-morrow into the street. I am coming."

Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to rub his eyes. And he did
not know himself whether he had heard these words asleep or awake. He
turned down the lamp and laid him down to rest.

At dawn next day, Avdyeeich arose, prayed to God, lit his stove, got ready
his gruel and cabbage soup, filled his samovar, put on his apron, and sat
him down by his window to work. There Avdyeeich sits and works, and thinks
of nothing but the things of yesternight. His thoughts were divided. He
thought at one time that he must have gone off dozing, and then again he
thought he really must have heard that voice. It might have been so,
thought he.

Martin sits at the window and looks as much at his window as at his work,
and whenever a strange pair of boots passes by he bends forwar