"Thou hast given away all thy wealth," an even voice made itself heard…. "But surely thou art not regretting that thou hast done good?"
"I do not regret it," replied the old man, with a sigh, "only here am I dying now."
"And if there had been no beggars in the world to stretch out their hands to thee," pursued the stranger, "thou wouldst have had no one to whom to show thy beneficence; thou wouldst not have been able to exercise thyself therein?"
The old man made no reply, and fell into thought.
"Therefore, be not proud now, my poor man," spoke up the stranger again. "Go, stretch out thy hand, afford to other good people the possibility of proving by their actions that they are good."
The old man started, and raised his eyes … but the stranger had already vanished,—but far away, on the road, a wayfarer made his appearance.
The old man approached him, and stretched out his hand.—The wayfarer turned away with a surly aspect and gave him nothing.
But behind him came another, and this one gave the old man a small alms.
And the old man bought bread for himself with the copper coins which had been given him, and sweet did the bit which he had begged seem to him, and there was no shame in his heart—but, on the contrary, a tranquil joy overshadowed him.
May, 1878.