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SANTA CLAUS
- What will happen to him now. How will he handle the great fortune he inherited after the death of his parents? You should help him. Take care of his business.
This was what was said at the party that took place after the funeral of Mikołaj's parents. The gathered relatives and friends of the house had their reasons. Mikołaj, an only child, son of wealthy parents, talented, talented, diligent, hardworking, was very shy. He spent all his days with his teachers. He did not leave the house, except for walks in the spacious palace garden. He lived cut off from the environment, locked up in the world of science. His closest parents were enough for him. He avoided strangers. Even going out into the street was a difficulty for him. The noise of the street tormented him. He was heavy with the eyes of curious passersby.
He thanked his relatives for the help they offered him. Not even because he wanted to run the enormous property he owned. But he didn't want new people at home. He stayed in the world of his books and studies. A broad mind, a typical intellectual. He entrusted the care of the land to the administrator who had been working for his parents for many years. He also left the old service. Among them was the butler who was also the valet serving the table. It was not only a servant or a butler, but almost a householder. He took care of him since he was a child. An old talker who knew about everything going on in the city - Mikołaj's only contact with the outside world.
Time passed. Nothing changed in Mikołaj's way of life: engrossed in books, he read and wrote. Until one day, for no real reason, he became interested in an old servant's account. The city was alive with a new drama. An almost naive story, like a bad romance, if not for the truth. There is a girl the boy loves. And she loved him. Everything would be fine if it weren't for the fact that she is poor and he is rich. And his parents are against this marriage. She has no dowry, nothing to bring into her future home. It was a story like a voice from beyond, contrasting with what he himself lived. There was an insistent reflection: I have everything I want. Somewhere next to me a human tragedy is happening, caused by such a prosaic fact as lack of money.
The sum the girl needed was quite considerable. He didn't know what he was going to do yet, but he began to think about how to remedy the poverty. At the next meal, he had learned almost casually from the old servant about the girl's address. He built an action plan as if against himself, because he did not know if he had the courage to implement it. Until he finally went to see at least what the poor girl's house looked like. Walking down the street only after a while he noticed that he was not disturbed by people, that his shyness had somehow disappeared. He was just looking for a street and a house where someone lives and suffers.
It was a home outside of town. There was no indication that a tragedy was taking place there. The walls whitened merrily in the sun. He stood at a considerable distance, in the shade of a tree, leaned against its trunk. He watched from under the hood pulled down over his eyes. Flowers bloomed in the garden, vegetables turned green in the beds. It was quiet, clean, tidy. Nothing happened. He sat down. He pretended to be a man who, tired, falls asleep in the heavy heat of the day. There was little traffic on the road. Sometimes a villager chasing his donkey passed by. A group of women was returning from the field. The children were playing their games. Suddenly he started. A girl came out of the house. I think it's her, he thought. She had a linen dish in her hand. She hung it slowly on the stretched ropes. A moment later a rider appeared on the road. In front of the house, he pulled the horse with his reins and jumped off. The girl had already put the linen dish on the ground. She was running towards him, wiping her wet hands on her apron. Welcoming with smiles and tears of joy. All staring and listening to him. A hot conversation broke out. Short sentences. Words torn from each other. And hands, hands looking for each other. And hands, palms - flowers tucked up and open. As if the whole world ceased to exist for them. Suddenly their joy ended. The girl started crying. The boy tried to console her. He stroked the head like a child. Then her escape home and the boy's departure. The scene was over. hands - flowers closed and open. As if the whole world ceased to exist for them. Suddenly their joy ended. The girl started crying. The boy tried to console her. He stroked the head like a child. Then her escape home and the boy's departure. The scene was over. hands - flowers closed and open. As if the whole world ceased to exist for them. Suddenly their joy ended. The girl started crying. The boy tried to console her. He stroked the head like a child. Then her escape home and the boy's departure. The scene was over.
Mikołaj returned to his home. He looked into the vault. He had never been interested in him before. He supposed he had an amount that would be a dowry for this girl. And so it was. He wrapped the money in a piece of cloth. He tied it with a rope. He lived to see the night. He held on until the house was quiet, until all the lights went out. He tucked the bundle under his arm, twisted his black cloak, tucked the hood over his head, opened the door to his room, tiptoed down the stairs. He tried to treat this whole trip as fun, like a game, but his heart was pounding, he didn't expect to care so much.
He went out into the street. It had been a long time since he went to town at this time. The moon was shining. It was empty. The rectangles of windows turned black in almost all houses. He was walking quickly, nervously. He thought he was visible from all directions in that silver moonlight. He used the shadows of buildings and trees. The unshaded sections ran fast. This path was longer for him, the more so as he still had to check whether he had made a mistake. What did not pose any difficulties for him during the day, now at night it was strange, unfriendly, confusing. He was sweaty when he got there. He took refuge in the shade of a familiar tree. The house stood in full moonlight. It seemed to him that it was impossible to go to the window in such a situation. He was already thinking of giving up, waiting for a cloudy night. But again he saw a scene from a few hours ago, scene with a crying girl. No, I can't let her suffer like this. He pushed himself away from the trunk of the tree he was clinging to, and he took the road between him and the cabin in no time. He didn't even need to climb to the window, they were set low - he was tall enough. He looked inside the room. Fortunately, the window was only covered with a curtain. He pushed her away. He was lucky a second time: the girl's bed was within his reach. He leaned over. He couldn't quite see where to put the bundle of money. He gently tucked them under the pillow on which the girl's head rested. Yet he looked back to see if no one was watching him. But the streets were empty, full of moonlight. He tore himself away from the window sill and walked briskly home. to which he clung, he walked in no time the way separating him from the cottage. He didn't even need to climb to the window, they were set low - he was tall enough. He looked inside the room. Fortunately, the window was only covered with a curtain. He pushed her away. He was lucky a second time: the girl's bed was within his reach. He leaned over. He couldn't quite see where to put the bundle of money. He gently tucked them under the pillow on which the girl's head rested. Yet he looked back to see if no one was watching him. But the streets were empty, full of moonlight. He tore himself away from the window sill and walked briskly home. to which he clung, he walked in no time the way separating him from the cottage. He didn't even need to climb to the window, they were set low - he was tall enough. He looked inside the room. Fortunately, the window was only covered with a curtain. He pushed her away. He was lucky a second time: the girl's bed was within his reach. He leaned over. He couldn't quite see where to put the bundle of money. He gently tucked them under the pillow on which the girl's head rested. Yet he looked back to see if no one was watching him. But the streets were empty, full of moonlight. He tore himself away from the window sill and walked briskly home. Fortunately, the window was only covered with a curtain. He pushed her away. He was lucky a second time: the girl's bed was within his reach. He leaned over. He couldn't quite see where to put the bundle of money. He gently tucked them under the pillow on which the girl's head rested. Yet he looked back to see if no one was watching him. But the streets were empty, full of moonlight. He tore himself away from the window sill and walked briskly home. Fortunately, the window was only covered with a curtain. He pushed her away. He was lucky a second time: the girl's bed was within his reach. He leaned over. He couldn't quite see where to put the bundle of money. He gently tucked them under the pillow on which the girl's head rested. Yet he looked back to see if no one was watching him. But the streets were empty, full of moonlight. He tore himself away from the window sill and walked briskly home.
The next day, at breakfast, he learned about everything that had happened at night. As soon as the girl discovered the treasure under her pillow, she did not hesitate to share her joy with her neighbors. It was enough for the whole city to know immediately. There were those who doubted. Those mentioned that maybe this money had been stolen, but this possibility quickly faded away because there was simply no one robbed. Some women said it was definitely an angel from heaven. There was no doubt about it. The rest of them made various assumptions, though they led nowhere. But it doesn't matter what people say. The most important thing is the joy of the girl and the boy. Nicholas listened to all of this at breakfast, flooded with a stream of words from his servant. He thought to himself that he is really happy for the first time in his life. The servant also informed his master that the boy's parents agreed to the wedding, the more so because they saw the hand of God himself.
- Who do you think it could be?
The old servant's mask fell off a jolly, good-hearted bard and gave the answer as if he had been prepared for this question for a long time.
- I don't think it's an angel. He is simply a man who fulfills what the Lord Jesus taught - that what we do for others, we should really do for them, and not for ourselves. People don't get it. Just as they did not understand then. And that's why they are so surprised that someone can do it.
The following days silenced the sensation. More business, troubles and joys of the city came. Did the old talker tell about them ?? knowing that in this way he was able to move his master. Out of this information, unexpectedly emerged another human tragedy: orphans. Mother died, the only breadwinner of five children. A little thing yet. The oldest fifteen-year-old girl. The rest are too small to be able to work. They look after each other together. As was the case with their mother, who worked to support them.
- But they have to live on something? Do they have relatives?
- They are just wondering what to do with this little thing. They wanted to pick them up among themselves, but the children do not want to separate. The oldest one will work, and maybe the second boy will also work. They will not earn too much, and winter is coming here, warm clothes, shoes and supplies are needed.
Mikołaj listened to this story. He saw his help as indispensable. But the situation was complicated. Here money is no longer enough. These children need to be provided with ready-made items. As if in passing he asked where all this was happening.
He went there on the same day. It was in the suburbs. There was an inn nearby, almost opposite. He sat down in the corner. The inn was empty. The boy was cleaning up. He snapped:
- Have you been working here long?
- No, sir, recently.
- Where are you from?
- Oh, that house.
So it worked. It was the boy, it was the house.
- Mom lets you work?
The boy's face turned gray, and there were tears in his eyes.
- My mom died.
- You have siblings?
- Yes.
Nicholas took out silver money.
- Go and buy them some candy.
- But I work.
- I'll explain you to the host.
The boy recovered quickly. Soon three children came to the inn to thank an unknown benefactor for figs, nuts and almonds. He remembered their heights diligently.
In the meantime, the host came, glad to have found a rich guest. He sat down at the table and talked about the misfortune. He was not surprised by the small gift the children received.
- It often happens that someone comes to donate a penny to these children. This is how it happens at the beginning, it will be worse later when people get used to them when they forget.
Mikołaj didn't need to listen to all this anymore. He wanted to leave as soon as possible.
"It's good that they remember them now," he replied.
- I must say something to your love: it is good that people felt sorry for these five orphans, but not too many poor children? Please look at this street, at least at what is happening here.
Nicholas had to agree with the innkeeper. His words made him see through. Only now did he see the misery of the children there. He stared at large, dingy tenement houses, at small, collapsing hovels. He saw children playing in the street - dirty, sloppy, shabby, starving, thin, gray. He heard the innkeeper say
, "They're children left to fend for themselves." Parents ?? small artisans, laborers, working for someone from dawn to dusk. .
Mikołaj had a ready plan in mind. Went the next day. He took a pack animal with him. He didn't take any servant. He decided on a city where he was sure they wouldn't recognize him. He bought warm clothes. He chose carefully, remembering the children he shopped for. Then food. He has not forgotten about toys and sweets. Round sweet cakes caught his eye, for which the children's hands were especially greedy.
He returned home two days later, tired but happy. Only now it was not so easy to deliver these treasures to children. Again, he did not want to take the service to help, because he did not want to let anyone know what he was doing. He chose a cloudy, moonless night. He slung the gift bag over his back. He covered himself with a mantle. He managed to get there unnoticed. He hurriedly put the parcels in the windows. He couldn't do everything at once. He was prepared for the fact that the children, when they discovered the gifts at night and made noise, would have to give up their action in this district. But no, when he returned the second time, he found everything as it was the first time. He's been working hard all night. He distributed gifts almost until dawn and returned home for the next batch. He was exhausted to the limit.
It didn't take long for the sensation to erupt. Already at lunch, his servant inundated him with all possible news, rumors that he had gathered around the city. So an angel after all ?? some said, so ... who could it be? others asked.
The next day, he called his manager and asked about finances. The money was there, though not so much. Because farms were invested. In winter supplies, in sowing. He commanded everyone who was.
"My lord, if I'm allowed to ask, but they are still in the hold-up vault."
- They're gone.
He was sitting at the table again in another tavern in another suburb. He sipped wine in small sips, nibbled on almonds and nuts, ordered some trinkets from a service-minded host, looked, made notes of houses and children. He once stated that virtually all the children here are poor, emaciated, poorly dressed, freezing in cloudy, rainy time. He thanked God that, while looking for five orphans, he had discovered the world of poor people, poor children.
He was distributing gifts to children again in another poor neighborhood.
Meanwhile, the city was already boiling. It wasn't fun anymore. It was already unbridled curiosity about who this stranger was, or who these benefactors were. Some of them tried to sum up the gifts given out, convert them into money. The sum was staggering. Who can afford such expenses?
The city was experiencing some great retreat. Only a few realized this - the change that was taking place in human souls. And it was just under the influence of those selfless gifts distributed so generously to poor children. People started noticing poor families, helping them, giving them away. Also the poor, the old, the sick and the suffering.
Meanwhile, Mikołaj's money ran out faster than he expected. His next shopping trip took almost all his savings. Mikołaj demanded money from his host.
- We don't have any more.
- Then sell the land.
- Yes, but it will take time.
- Take a loan.
- High percentages.
- Get high percentages. A lot, a lot. And save more. I don't need to eat gourmet as yet. Don't buy any new robes for me.
He already had a system developed: first, a fairly long observation of the next district, then a nighttime distribution. He knew he could only afford one night. The next day people were waiting for him. Therefore, he changed the district. He made his way from one end of town to the other. He worked like never before: constantly going shopping, returning from a trip at night, then delivering gifts, constant nervous tension, intense attention reflected on his appearance. He lost weight and was clearly tired. He promised himself that he would rest, that he would return to his books, as soon as he somehow secured the children for the winter.
Meanwhile, more and more improbable rumors about Nicholas were spreading among the noble townspeople and the aristocracy of the city. It was whispered, it was said, it was announced that this hitherto calm and well-balanced man had fallen into some passion. Lives debauchery or indulges in some gambling games. His night trips were no longer a secret. His appearance undoubtedly shows that this man is at the bottom of a fall. This is evidenced not only by its appearance, but also by the fact that I am selling my lands, incurring high interest debts. He is squandering the property he inherited from his remembered ancestors.
Therefore, it was decided to save Mikołaj. Relatives and friends of Mikołaj's family appeared in such a rarely visited house. He had to accept them, listen to advice, avoid intrusive questions. He was impatient and this waste of time. His guests finally decided that Nicholas was a rare case of hard-heartedness and unconverted. The only option is to cut yourself off from him, to warn others against contact with him. Only this road can bring Santa to his senses. And pray for him.
With time, rumors about Mikołaj, which were repeated in the salons of palaces and rich rooms of bourgeois tenement houses, appeared on the street, between the town sheds. Incredible nonsense was told about the monster Nicholas, a devil incarnate, possessed, mad, unable to sleep, crashing at night in his enormous palace.
This news reached Mikołaj. The old servant also reported them to him, but in a very milder form. He said from himself, as if in passing, that the Lord Jesus was killed by people, although He had done so much good to them. Meanwhile, Mikołaj had other, more serious problems. At times, almost a would be discovered. He became even more careful, careful with each subsequent pull.
At the same time, the city was still buzzing with the news of the Angel of Goodness. For the gifted children - joy, for their parents ?? help. Good stranger ?? an angel from heaven, as some insisted, became someone close in their lives. There were those who had already seen him in the hood, with the hump of a sack on his back. Mothers threatened the disobedient children:
- If you are naughty, the saint will not come to you. You will not get anything. God gives only good children. Naughty ones will kidnap the devil to the castle, lock him in a dungeon, choke him with a rod.
But it wasn't true. Everyone was gifted, sooner or later.
Until it happened. Until there was a disaster. Footsteps patter the street. He rushed the other way. From there, footsteps were also heard, cries were heard:
- Here he is! We got him!
There was one last alley, but voices came from there too. There was no way out. In the darkness he saw the great gate of the building. He pushed her. Fortunately, it was open. He fell into her. The empty, great hall echoed the pursuit. He ran his hands up the wall. He hit the door. Fortunately, it's also open. He fell in, slammed the door behind him. He found himself in some dark room. Violent search for another door again: open, pressed the handle, burst into the lit room. Blinded by the light, he stood, leaned against the door, panted heavily, and looked inside. A huge library, at the desk an old gray-haired man looking at him in surprise. As if he remembered him from somewhere. He didn't know where from. He listened diligently. The door slammed. The pursuers' footsteps rumbled. He ran to the old man:
- Hide me.
- Oh, Santa. I hear a lot about you here.
Only now did he see that it was a bishop. It was only now that he realized that he had burst into the bishop's residence. People were right outside the door. Footsteps, screams, a knock. Shy but firm. He fell at the bishop's feet. He hid behind his desk.
The door opened. A crowd of people appeared crowded in them. They fell silent. Someone asked:
- Did the bishop see the man in the black cloak? Mikołaj, hidden behind a desk, waited for an answer as if he were a death sentence.
- Who are you asking about? About Satan from the castle?
- No. About a man who has been giving our poor children gifts for months.
- Ah, you mean this - as you call him - the Angel of Goodness.
- Yes. We just encountered him, in a black cloak, with a hood over his head and a sack on his back.
- Then you have him here. The bishop bent down:
- Get up, get up. There is no help.
Nicholas reluctantly rose to his feet. An almost empty bag slipped from his shoulders. He forgot that he was still wearing it. Buns, so well known to the children of the whole city, rolled from him to the floor.
- Santa! someone shouted.
- Santa! someone else repeated.
Still incredulous, they approached him to see if it was really him. They looked, still uncertainly, at his cloak, hoodie, his sack, and himself, who, embarrassed and confused, stood against the wall with his head bowed and his eyes downcast. He is the one who was ruthlessly rumored to be a debauchee, a gambler, a loser who squanders his parents' property, who is unworthy to bear the name of his honorable parents.
The old bishop watched this scene silently. Until finally he spoke. Smiling and cheerful, he began:
- My dear, I have been looking for a successor for a long time, because I know that I am already old. I want to rest. I finally found him. You have my successor, he will be your bishop - he said pointing to Mikołaj.
Stories about hope by
Fr. Mieczysław Maliński
 
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