l compassion for me, that He at least, though I be foul and
lowly, will pardon me and receive me when all men have cast me out, and
my best friend has betrayed me and boasted that he has done it for a
good end."

Khlobuev's face was glowing with emotion, and from the older man's eyes
also a tear had started.

"You will do well to hearken unto Him who is merciful," he said. "But
remember also that, in the eyes of the All-Merciful, honest toil is of
equal merit with a prayer. Therefore take unto yourself whatsoever task
you may, and do it as though you were doing it, not unto man, but unto
God. Even though to your lot there should fall but the cleaning of a
floor, clean that floor as though it were being cleaned for Him alone.
And thence at least this good you will reap: that there will remain to
you no time for what is evil--for card playing, for feasting, for all
the life of this gay world. Are you acquainted with Ivan Potapitch?"

"Yes, not only am I acquainted with him, but I also greatly respect
him."

"Time was when Ivan Potapitch was a merchant worth half a million
roubles. In everything did he look but for gain, and his affairs
prospered exceedingly, so much so that he was able to send his son to be
educated in France, and to marry his daughter to a General. And whether
in his office or at the Exchange, he would stop any friend whom he
encountered and carry him off to a tavern to drink, and spend whole days
thus employed. But at last he became bankrupt, and God sent him other
misfortunes also. His son! Ah, well! Ivan Potapitch is now my steward,
for he had to begin life over again. Yet once more his affairs are in
order, and, had it been his wish, he could have restarted in business
with a capital of half a million roubles. 'But no,' he said. 'A
steward am I, and a steward will I remain to the end; for, from being
full-stomached and heavy with dropsy, I have become strong and well.'
Not a drop of liquor passes his lips, but only cabbage soup and gruel.
And he prays as none of the rest of us pray, and he helps the poor as
none of the rest of us help them; and to this he would add yet further
charity if his means permitted him to do so."

Poor Khlobuev remained silent, as before.

The elder man took his two hands in his.

"Semen Semenovitch," he said, "you cannot think how much I pity you, or
how much I have had you in my thoughts. Listen to me. In the monastery
there is a recluse who never looks upon a huma