He read these verses and thought: “He gave no water for his feet, gave no kiss, his head with oil he did not anoint.⁠ ⁠…” And Martin took off his spectacles once more, laid them on his book, and pondered.

“He must have been like me, that Pharisee. He too thought only of himself⁠—how to get a cup of tea, how to keep warm and comfortable; never a thought of his guest. He took care of himself, but for his guest he cared nothing at all. Yet who was the guest? The Lord himself! If he came to me, should I behave like that?”

Then Martin laid his head upon both his arms and, before he was aware of it, he fell asleep.

“Martin!” he suddenly heard a voice, as if someone had breathed the word above his ear.

He started from his sleep. “Who’s there?” he asked.

He turned round and looked at the door; no one was there. He called again. Then he heard quite distinctly: “Martin, Martin! Look out into the street tomorrow, for I shall come.”