The count retreated to his former argument,—­that one’s personal labor is the only righteous thing which can be given to one’s fellow-man; and that the labor must be given unquestioningly when asked for.

“But it cannot always be right to work unquestioningly.  There are always plenty of people who are glad to get their work done for them.  That is human nature.”

“We have nothing to do with that,” he answered.  “If a man asks me to build his house or plow his field, I am bound to do it, just as I am bound to give the beggar whatever he asks for, if I have it.  It is no business of mine why he asks me to do it.”

“But suppose the man is lazy, or wants to get his work done while he is idling, enjoying himself, or earning money elsewhere for vodka or what not?  I do not object to helping the weak, or those who do not attempt to shirk.  One must use discrimination.”

But Count Tolstoy persisted that the reason for the request was no business of the man anxious to do his duty by aiding his fellow-men, although his sensible wife came to my assistance by saying that she always looked into the matter before giving help, on the grounds which I had stated.  So I attacked from another quarter.

“Ought not every person to do as much as possible for himself, and not call upon others unless compelled to do so?”

“Certainly.”

“Very good.  I am strong, well, perfectly capable of waiting on myself.  But I detest putting on my heavy Russian galoshes, and my big cloak; and I never do either when I can possibly avoid it.  I have no right to ask you to put on my galoshes, supposing that there were no lackey at hand.  But suppose I were to ask it?”

“I would do it with pleasure,” replied the count, his earnest face relaxing into a smile.  “I will mend your boots, also, if you wish.”

I thanked him, with regret that my boots were whole, and pursued my point.  “But you ought to refuse.  It would be your duty to teach me my duty of waiting on myself.  You would have no right to encourage me in my evil ways.”

We argued the matter on these lines.  He started from the conviction that one should follow the example of Christ, who healed and helped all without questioning their motives or deserts; I taking the ground that, while Christ “knew the heart of man,” man could not know the heart of his brother-man,—–­at least not always on first sight, though afterward he could make a tolerably shrewd guess as to whether he was being used as a cat’s-paw for the encouragement of the shiftless.  But he stuck firmly to his “resist not evil” doctrine; while I maintained that the very doctrine admitted that it was “evil” by making use of the word at all, hence a thing to be preached and practiced against.  Perhaps Count Tolstoy had never been so unfortunate as to meet certain specimens of the human race which it has been my ill-luck to observe; so we both still held our positions, after a long skirmish, and silence reigned for a few moments.  Then the count asked, with that winning air of good-will and interest which is peculiar to him:—­