Lunev stood up and saw a stout, elderly woman in a loosely-fitting dress and a black veil, getting heavily out of a wide sledge covered with a bear's skin. The police officer and a man with a red moustache helped her.
"Ah! my dear, my husband." As her trembling, frightened voice was heard, silence fell on all the bystanders.
Ilya looked at her and thought of Olympiada.
"Where's the son?" said some one, softly.
"He's in Moscow, they say."
"He'll get the bad news soon enough."
"That's true."
Lunev heard, and his heart sank. He preferred to hear that no one lamented Poluektov; although at the same time, he thought all these men stupid and unreasoning, except the black-bearded merchant. This man had an air of strength and of firm faith, but the others stood like trees in a wood, and chattered in their silly way, pleased at the suffering of others. He waited until the frail body of the money-changer was carried from the shop, and then went home, cold, tired, but calm. Reaching home, he bolted himself in his room, and began to count his money: in two thick packets there were five hundred roubles in small notes, in the third packet, eight hundred and fifty roubles. There was also a little bundle of coupons which he did not count. He wrapped all the money up in paper, and considered where to hide it. As he thought, he felt that his head was heavy and that he was sleepy. He determined to hide the money in the attic, and started out there, holding the parcel in his hand. In the passage he met Jakov.
"Ah, you're back," said Jakov.
"Yes, I'm back."