I had a great attraction for that little boy! He stood there as if on hot coals, he wanted to run off so as to get earlier to the lodging house, and yet he stayed on and listened, growing paler and paler, while a tear trembled on his childish lashes. "There! and now don't beg any more," I wound up, "do you hear? This is to be the very last time." The little boy drew a deep breath and ran away. To-day, to-day I have given him nothing--I will not break my word. I will know nothing of "evasions,"[136] a given word is precious. One must be firm, otherwise there would be an end to everything. I think over again what I have just been saying, and feel quite pleased with myself. I _cannot_ afford to give five kopeks in charity every day, and yet that was not the reason. It was the boy's own good I was thinking of, indeed, the good of all! What is the use of unsystematic charity--and how can there be system without a strict rule? With the little boy I had spoken simple Yiddish, with myself, somewhat more learnedly. As I left the soup-kitchen, I reflected: The worst microbe in the body of the community is begging. The man who will not work has no right to eat, and so on. I had no sooner shut the door of the soup-kitchen behind me than my feet sank deep into the mud, I ran my head against a wall, and then plunged into the dark night. There was a dreadful wind blowing, the flames of the gas lamps trembled as with cold, and their flickering shine was reflected a thousandfold in the puddles in the street, so that the eyes were dazzled. It wails plaintively, as though a thousand souls were praying for Tikun,[137] or a thousand little boys for five kopeks for a night's shelter.... Bother that little boy!... It would be a sin to drive a dog into the street on such a night, and yet the poor little boy will have to sleep out of doors. But what can _I_ do? I have given him something three times--does that go for nothing? Let somebody else give him five kopeks for once! I have done quite enough, coming out to the soup-kitchen in this weather, with my sick chest and a cough, and without a fur coat. Were I "pious," it would have been self-interest on my part. I should have done it with a view to acquiring merit, I should have hastened home, turned into bed, and gone to sleep, so that my soul might quickly fly to heaven and enter the good deed to her account. The good deed is the "credit," and the "debit" a fat slice of Leviathan. I, when I went to the soup-kitchen, had no reward in view, it was my kind nature that prompted me.