“Oh, it is terribly sad for the poor fellow!” said the priest.

“Of course it is. He is poor and has no one to help him. He came to me and said, ‘Take the priest home, will you; my mare can’t do any more.’ We must help one another, mustn’t we?”

“You’ve been drinking, I see. It’s wrong of you, Theodore. It’s a working-day.”

“Do you think I drank at the expense of others? I drank at my own. I was seeing my son off. Forgive me, Father, for God’s sake.”

“It is not my business to forgave. I only say it is better not to drink.”

“Of course it is, but what am I to do? If I were just nobody⁠—but, thank God, I am well off. I live openly. I am sorry for Mitri. Who could help being sorry for him? Why, only last year someone stole his horse. Oh, you have to keep a sharp eye on folk nowadays.”