“So these two orphans established a household and became somebodies; people who had laughed at them now sought their society, and began to vie with each other in praising Sarkis.  But Sarkis remained the same God-fearing Sarkis.  He spoke evil of no one, and even of his wife’s relatives, who had robbed him, he said nothing.  Indeed, when they had gone through that inheritance and were in want he even helped them out.

“As I have said, Sarkis refused no one his assistance, but his wife had also a good heart.  The good things she did cannot be told.  How often she baked cracknel, cakes, rolls, and sweet biscuit, and sent great plates full of them to those who could not have such things, for she said, ’May those who pass by and smell the fragrance of my cakes never desire them in vain.’

“About this time my husband died—­may God bless him!—­and I was living alone.  Sarkis’s wife came to me and said, ’Why will you live so lonely in your house?  Rent it and come to us.’  Of course, I did not hesitate long.  I laid my things away in a large chest and moved over to their house, and soon we lived together like two sisters.  Takusch was at that time four years old, and Toros was still a baby in arms.  I lived ten years at their house, and heard not a single harsh word from them.  Not once did they say to me, ’You eat our bread, you drink our water, you wear our clothing,’ They never indulged in such talk:  on the contrary, they placed me in the seat of honor.  Yes, so they honored me.  And, good heavens! what was I to them!  Neither mother nor sister nor aunt, in no way related to them.  I was a stranger taken from the streets.

“Yes, such God-fearing people were Sarkis and his wife.  The poor wretches believed that all mankind were as pure in heart as they were.  I had even at that time a presentiment that they would not end well, and often remonstrated with them, begging them to be on their guard with people.  But it was useless for me to talk, for they sang the old songs again.

“Like a sweet dream my years with the good people passed.  Surely pure mother’s milk had nourished them!  I knew neither pain nor grief, nor did I think of what I should eat to-morrow, nor of how I could clothe myself.  As bounteous as the hand of God was their house to me.  Twelve months in every year I sat peacefully at my spinning-wheel and carried on my own business.

“Once during dog-days—­Takusch was at that time fifteen years old and beginning her sixteenth year—­toward evening, according to an old custom, we spread a carpet in the garden and placed a little table there for tea.  Near us steamed and hissed the clean shining tea-urn, and around us roses and pinks shed their sweet odors.  It was a beautiful evening, and it became more beautiful when the full moon rose in the heavens like a golden platter.  I remember that evening as clearly as though it were yesterday.  Takusch poured out the tea, and Auntie Mairam, Sarkis’s wife, took a cup; but as she lifted it to her lips it fell out of her hand and the tea was spilled over her dress.