The old merchant he turned and turned, unable to sleep. Business that day had gone well: buying a ten to twenty selling, currency on the currency, had made a nice pile of money.
rose. Wanted them to count. Coins were in the past who knows how many hands, who knows with how much effort you earn. But those hands that toil to him and said nothing.
The merchant could not sleep. He left the house and saw people running from all sides to the same place. After all that had passed the word to attend a party.
few hands reached out to him. Some voice rose: - Brother, - shouted - do not you come?
Brother, brother to him? But what were these crazy people? He had no brothers. He was a merchant, and for him that there were customers who buys and who sells.
But where were they going?
He moved a little 'curious. He joined a group of old men and children.
Brother! Oh, sure, it would have been nice to have so many brothers! But his heart whispered that they could not be his brother. How many times had deceived them? He bought a ten- resold to twenty. And stealing the weight. And crying poverty to sell more expensive. And speculating on the needs of the poor. It never opened his hand to donate.
No, he could not be a brother to the poor people who had always exploited, deceived, betrayed.
Yet everyone walked beside him. And had come with them, at the Grotto of Bethlehem. Now he saw them enter and no one was empty-handed, even the poor had something. And he had nothing, he was rich.
He entered the cave along with others knelt with the others.
- Sir, - he said - I mistreated my brother. Forgive me.
and burst into tears.
leaning against a tree in front of the cave, the merchant continued crying, and his heart changed. At the first light of dawn
tears shone like pearls in the middle of two leaves.
was born on mistletoe.
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