So Nicholas, escaping through
byways, would wander far into the country. Children in the villages
around came to know a kind old fellow who loved to linger, his hands
resting on his staff, watching their play, listening to their
laughter; whose ample pockets were storehouses of good things. Their
elders, passing by, would whisper to one another how like he was in
features to wicked old Nick, the miser of Zandam, and would wonder
where he came from. Nor was it only the faces of the children that
taught his lips to smile. It troubled him at first to find the world
so full of marvellously pretty girls--of pretty women also, all more
or less lovable. It bewildered him. Until he found that,
notwithstanding, Christina remained always in his thoughts the
prettiest, the most lovable of them all. Then every pretty face
rejoiced him: it reminded him of Christina.
On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in
her eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father's, had
called to see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with
Christina. A hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm.
Christina pretended not to know that the creditor was Nicholas
himself, but marvelled that such wicked men could be.
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