VI

Yakov Ivanitch's money was in the bank of the town and was invested
in second mortgages; he only kept a little at home, Just what was
wanted for necessary expenses. Going into the kitchen he felt for
the matchbox, and while the sulphur was burning with a blue light
he had time to make out the figure of Matvey, which was still lying
on the floor near the table, but now it was covered with a white
sheet, and nothing could be seen but his boots. A cricket was
chirruping. Aglaia and Dashutka were not in the room, they were
both sitting behind the counter in the tea-room, spinning yarn in
silence. Yakov Ivanitch crossed to his own room with a little lamp
in his hand, and pulled from under the bed a little box in which
he kept his money. This time there were in it four hundred and
twenty one-rouble notes and silver to the amount of thirty-five
roubles; the notes had an unpleasant heavy smell. Putting the money
together in his cap, Yakov Ivanitch went out into the yard and then
out of the gate. He walked, looking from side to side, but there
was no sign of the waiter.

"Hi!" cried Yakov.

A dark figure stepped out from the barrier at the railway crossing
and came irresolutely towards him.

"Why do you keep walking about?" said Yakov with vexation, as he
recognized the waiter. "Here you are; there is a little less than
five hundred. . . . I've no more in the house."