"We received the Command to halt at a humble inn. In the low-ceilinged house with clay walls we stopped for the night. A fire and a small oil lamp filled the room with a red glow. After our meal we noticed that a servant poured out the remains of the milk into a separate amphora. We said to her, “It is not right to save it.” “But,” she said, “it is not for Thee, O Lord, but for a poor woman. Here behind the wall lives a carpenter. Recently a son was born to him.”"