“Friend,” said the other, “I have no friend but God, and he seems to have deserted me.” As he said this, he raised his saddened eyes to the good saint, and after looking at him a little while, as if he was not conscious of his presence, dropped them again, even without asking who he was, or whence he came, or what he wanted. Despair had deadened his faculties, and nothing remained in his mind but the consciousness of suffering.
“_Het is jammer, het is jammer_—it is a pity, it is a pity!” quoth the kind-hearted saint, as he passed his sleeve across his eyes. “But something must be done, and that quickly too.” So he shook the poor man somewhat roughly by the shoulder, and cried out, “Ho! ho! what aileth thee, son of my good old friend, honest Johannes Garrebrantze?”
This salutation seemed to rouse the poor man, who arose upon his seat, and essaying to stand upright, fell into the arms of St. Nicholas, who almost believed it was a lump of ice, so cold and stiff did it seem. Now, be it known that Providence, as a reward for his benevolent disposition, has bestowed on St. Nicholas the privilege of doing good without measure to all who are deserving of his bounty, and that by such means as he thinks proper to the purpose. It is a power he seldom exerts to the uttermost, except on pressing occasions, and this he believed one of them.
Perceiving that the poor man was wellnigh frozen to death, he called into action the supernatural faculties which had been committed to him, and lo! in an instant a rousing fire blazed on the hearth, towards which the poor man, instinctively as it were, edged his chair, and stretched out one of his bony hands, that was as stiff as an icicle. The light flashed so brightly in the face of the little ones and their mother, that they awoke, and seeing the cheerful blaze, arose in their miserable clothing, which they had worn to aid in keeping them warm, and hied as fast as they could to bask in its blessed warmth. So eager were they, that for a while they were unconscious of the presence of a stranger, although St. Nicholas had now assumed his proper person, that he might not be taken for some one of those diabolical wizards who, being always in mischief, are ashamed to show their faces among honest people.
At length the poor man, who was called after his father Johannes Garrebrantze, being somewhat revived by the genial warmth of the fire, looked around, and became aware of the presence of the stranger, which inspired him with a secret awe, for which he could not account, insomuch that his voice trembled, though now he was not cold, when, after some hesitation, he said,
“Stranger, thou art welcome to this poor house. I would I were better able to offer thee the hospitalities of the season, but I will wish thee a happy Newyear, and that is all I can bestow.” The good yffrouw, his wife, repeated the wish, and straightway began to apologize for the untidy state of her apartment.
“Make no apologies,” replied the excellent saint; “I come to give, not to receive. To-night I treat, to-morrow you may return the kindness to others.”
“I?” said Johannes Garrebrantze; “I have nothing to bestow but good wishes, and nothing to receive but the scorn and neglect of the world. If I had anything to give thee to eat or drink, thou shouldst have it with all my heart. But the newyear, which brings jollity to the hearts of others,
brings nothing but hunger and despair to me and mine.”
“Thou hast seen better days, I warrant thee,” answered the saint; “for thou speakest like a scholar of Leyden. Tell me thy story, Johannes, my son, and we shall see whether in good time thou wilt not hold up thy head as high as a church steeple.”
“Alas! to what purpose, since man assuredly has, and Heaven seems to have forsaken me.”