"Do you think we shall get three marks for the little spoon?" she asked, constantly preoccupied by her calculations.
"Oh yes," Schmidt answered cheerfully. "We may get five. It is good silver, and they buy silver by weight."
A few moments later she stood still before a narrow shop which was lighted within, though there was no lamp in the windows. It was that of a small watchmaker and jeweller, and a few silver watches and some cheap chains and trinkets were visible behind the glass pane.
"Perhaps he may buy the spoon," suggested Vjera, anxious to lose no time.
Without a word Schmidt entered the shop, while the girl stood outside. In less than five minutes he came out again with something in his hand.
"Three and a half," he said, handing her the money.
"I had hoped it would be worth more," she answered, putting the coins with the rest.
"No. He weighed it with silver marks. It weighed just four of them, and he said he must have half a mark to make it worth his while."
"Very well," said Vjera, "it is always something. I have twenty-eight and a half now."
When they reached her lodging Schmidt set down the samovar upon the pavement and made himself a cigarette, while he waited for her. She was gone a long time, as it seemed to him, and he was beginning to wonder whether anything had happened, when she suddenly made her appearance, noiseless in her walk, as always. The old wolf's skin was hung over one shoulder, and she carried besides a limp-looking brown paper parcel, tied with a bit of folded ribband. As he caught sight of her face in the light of the street lamp, Schmidt fancied that she was paler than before, and that her cheek was wet.