Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly heard, “Martuin, ah, Martuin! Look to-morrow on the street. I am coming.”
At daybreak next morning Martuin woke, said his prayer, put his cabbage soup and gruel on to cook and sat down by the window to work. He worked hard but all the time he was thinking of the voice that he had heard. “Was it a dream,” he said to himself, “or is He coming? Shall I really see Him to-day?” When anyone passed by in boots that he did not know he would bend down close to the window so that he could see the face as well as the boots.
By and by an old, old man came along; he carried a shovel. It was Stephanwitch. Martuin knew him by his old felt boots. He was very poor and helped the house porter with all the hard work. Now he began to shovel away the snow from in front of Martuin’s window. Martuin looked up eagerly.
“Pshaw,” said Martuin, “old Stephanwitch is clearing away the snow and I imagined the Christ-child was coming to see me.” He looked again. How old and feeble Stephanwitch looked.
“He is cold and weary,” thought Martuin. “I will call him in and give him a cup of tea, the samovar must be boiling by now.”
He laid down his awl, made the tea, and tapped on the window. “Come in and warm yourself,” he said.
“May Christ reward you for this! My bones ache,” said Stephanwitch.
Stephanwitch shook off the snow and tried to wipe his feet so as not to soil the floor, but he staggered from cold and weariness.
“Never mind that, I will clean it up. We are used to such things. Sit down and drink a cup of tea,” said Martuin heartily.
Martuin filled two cups and handed one to Stephanwitch who drank it eagerly, turned it upside down, and began to express his thanks.