thousands of poor people who were to be rescued from poverty and
vice, dwindled down to this, that I gave away, haphazard, a few
scores of rubles to those people who asked me for them, and that
there remained in my hands twelve rubies contributed by the students,
and twenty-five sent to me by the City Council for my labor as a
superintendent, and I absolutely did not know to whom to give them.

The whole matter came to an end. And then, before my departure for
the country, on the Sunday before carnival, I went to the Rzhanoff
house in the morning, in order to get rid of those thirty-seven
rubles before I should leave Moscow, and to distribute them to the
poor. I made the round of the quarters with which I was familiar,
and in them found only one sick man, to whom I gave five rubles.
There was no one else there to give any to. Of course many began to
beg of me. But as I had not known them at first, so I did not know
them now, and I made up my mind to take counsel with Ivan Fedotitch,
the landlord of the tavern, as to the persons upon whom it would be
proper to bestow the remaining thirty-two rubies.

It was the first day of the carnival. Everybody was dressed up, and
everybody was full-fed, and many were already intoxicated. In the
court-yard, close to the house, stood an old man, a rag-picker, in a
tattered smock and bast shoes, sorting over the booty in his basket,
tossing out leather, iron, and other stuff in piles, and breaking
into a merry song, with a fine, powerful voice. I entered into
conversation with him. He was seventy years old, he was alone in the
world, and supported himself by his calling of a rag-picker; and not
only did he utter no complaints, but he said that he had plenty to
eat and drink. I inquired of him as to especially needy persons. He
flew into a rage, and said plainly that there were no needy people,