But lo! there lies the owner thereof beneath a tree, a ragged beggar woman, in her lap a child.
He placed the bag at their side and then lit a match to see better whether or not they were dead.
Their heavy breathing revealed that both were alive, mother and child; exhausting fatigue alone could have sent them into such profound slumber. The cold weather, the bitter wind and the ragged dress are not favorable to such sleep. Only they can sleep as these do, who are exhausted. Their faces, especially that of the child, are already blue from cold and the tiny limbs tremble like frozen jelly.
Filcsik took out his pipe from the pocket of his coat, filled and lit it, and then sat down on the ground beside the sleepers.
He looked at them a long time. He could see very well; the sky was full of stars. The stars looked at him and perhaps beckoned to him encouragingly.
All at once he bent lower over the sleepers; his forehead was perspiring, his head was bowed down and the famous fur cloak slipped off his shoulders. It was well, for he was warm anyhow. And then the fur cloak never burdened him as much as now; it had never been as heavy as at present.
When it slipped down, he suddenly picked it up and spread it over the two sleepers.
Then he jumped up and slowly and thoughtfully began to walk towards home. Once he stood still, then retraced his steps. Did he intend to go back for it?
No, no! what would those million eyes looking at him from above say to that!
Now he hurried; he almost ran towards home.