And in the very same instant in which the man said this, the Lord slid out of the room, the happy smiles faded and the roast capon seemed sand between their teeth.
So on he went, through the night, along the deserted streets. After much walking, Don Valentino finally saw Him again. He had reached the gates of the city and in front of him the wide countryside extended in the darkness, shimmering a little in the snow. God was floating above the meadows and the rows of mulberry trees, as if waiting. Don Valentino fell to his knees.
“But what are you doing, Reverend?” a farmer asked him. “You may well catch your death in this cold”
“Look over there, son. Don’t you see?”
The farmer looked up without wonder. “He’s ours” he said. “Every Christmas He comes to bless our fields.”
“Listen” said the priest. “You couldn’t give me a bit? In the city we have none left, even the churches are empty. Leave me some, so that the archbishop can at least have a decent Christmas.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear reverend! Who knows what disgusting sins you have perpetrated in your city. It’s your fault. Deal with it.”
“Of course, there have been sins. And who does not sin? But you can save many souls, my son, if only you say yes.”
“I have enough trouble saving mine” sniggered the farmer, and in the very same instant in which he said it, the Lord rose from his fields and vanished in the darkness.

He heard an ample, touching choir, angels' voices, a ray of light filtered through the fog...