Carefully, without haste, he stepped back into the street, stopped three paces from the shop, covered his wares with the oil-cloth cover, and then went on in the midst of the thick snow that fell from invisible heights. Round him, even as in him, floated a cold, misty cloud; his eyes strove to pierce it with tense alertness. Suddenly he felt a dull pain in his eyes, he touched them with a finger of his right hand, and stood still, gripped by terror, as though his feet were suddenly frozen fast to the ground. He felt as though his eyes were coming out of their sockets, like those of old Poluektov, and he feared lest they should remain for ever thus protruded, never to be closed, for all men to read in them the crime he had committed. They felt as though they were lifeless. He touched the pupils with a finger, felt a sudden pain in them, and tried for a long time vainly to close the lids. Fear caught the breath in his throat. At last he managed to close them. He rejoiced at the darkness that suddenly enclosed him, and stood motionless, seeing nothing, breathing deep breaths of the cold air. Some one ran against him. He looked quickly round, and saw a tall man, in a short fur coat, passing. Ilya looked after the unknown till he vanished in the thick drifting snow. Then he straightened his cap and strode on, feeling still the pain in his eyes and a weight at his head. His shoulders twitched, his fingers involuntarily clenched, and a daring boldness awakened in his heart and banished his fear. He went on till the road divided, there saw the grey figure of a policeman, and went, as if by accident, slowly, quite slowly, straight up to him. His heart stopped as he drew near. "Here's weather," said Ilya, going close to the policeman and looking boldly into his face. "Ye--es! Snowing pretty well! Thank heaven, it'll be warmer now," answered the policeman, with a good-natured expression on his big, red, bearded face. "What's the time, by the way?" asked Ilya. "I'll have a look." The policeman knocked the snow from his sleeve, and put his hand under his cloak. Lunev felt both relieved and again made anxious by the proximity of this man. Suddenly he laughed, in a dry, forced way. "What are you laughing at?" asked the policeman, opening the front of his watch with his nail. "If you could see yourself. It's as though some one had tipped a cart of snow over you!" "No need for that; it's coming down in bucketsful. Just half-past one, all but five minutes. Yes, brother, it's bad for men of my trade this weather. You'll go into the public house, in the warm, and I must stick about here till six. Oh, just see; your box is full of snow!" The policeman sighed and snapped his watch to. "Yes, I'm off to the alehouse," said Ilya, with a forced laugh, and added, for no particular reason: "That one, up there, that's where I'm going." "Don't chaff me!" cried the policeman, sulkily.