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‘Is it for me to bless them? I am only a humble monk. I
will pray for them. And for you, Afanasy Pavlovitch, I have
prayed every day since that day, for it all came from you,’
said I. And I explained that to him as well as I could. And
what do you think? The man kept gazing at me and could
not believe that I, his former master, an officer, was now
before him in such a guise and position; it made him shed
tears.
‘Why are you weeping?’ said I, ‘better rejoice over me,
dear friend, whom I can never forget, for my path is a glad
and joyful one.’
He did not say much, but kept sighing and shaking his
head over me tenderly.
‘What has become of your fortune?’ he asked.
‘I gave it to the monastery,’ I answered; ‘we live in com-
mon.’
After tea I began saying good-bye, and suddenly he
brought out half a rouble as an offering to the monastery,
and another half-rouble I saw him thrusting hurriedly into
my hand: ‘That’s for you in your wanderings, it may be of
use to you, Father.’
I took his half-rouble, bowed to him and his wife, and
went out rejoicing. And on my way I thought: ‘Here we
are both now, he at home and I on the road, sighing and
shaking our heads, no doubt, and yet smiling joyfully in
the gladness of our hearts, remembering how God brought
about our meeting.’
I have never seen him again since then. I had been his
master and he my servant, but now when we exchanged a