“Yes, but you spoil the young rascal by doing that,” she objected.
“He ought to have received a reward that would have made him glad to
stand for a week.”
“Ah, my good dame, my good dame,” exclaimed Avdeitch. “That may be
_our_ way of rewarding, but it is not God’s. If this boy ought to
have been whipped for taking the apple, ought not we also to receive
something for our sins?”
The old woman was silent. Then Avdeitch related to her the parable
of the master who absolved his servant from the great debt which he
owed him, whereupon the servant departed and took his own debtor by
the throat. The old woman listened, and also the boy.
“God has commanded us to pardon one another,” went on Avdeitch, “or
_He_ will not pardon us. We ought to pardon all men, and especially
the thoughtless.”
The old woman shook her head and sighed.
“Yes, that may be so,” she said, “but these young rascals are so
spoilt already!”
“Then it is for us, their elders, to teach them better,” he replied.
“That is what I say myself at times,” rejoined the old woman. “I had
seven of them once at home, but have only one daughter now.” And she
went on to tell Avdeitch where she and her daughter lived, and how
they lived, and how many grandchildren she had.
“I have only such strength as you see,” she said, “yet I work hard,
for my heart goes out to my grandchildren—the bonny little things
that they are! No children could run to meet me as they do.
Aksintka, for instance, will go to no one else. ‘Grandmother,’ she
cries, ‘dear grandmother, you are tired’”—and the old woman became
thoroughly softened. “Everyone knows what boys are,” she added
presently, referring to the culprit. “May God go with him!”
She was raising the sack to her shoulders again when the boy darted
forward and said:
“Nay, let me carry it, grandmother. It will be all on my way home.”
The old woman nodded assent, gave up the sack to the boy, and went
away with him down the street. She had quite forgotten to ask
Avdeitch for the money for the apple. He stood looking after them,
and observing how they were talking together as they went.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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