The old man was sitting behind a small counter, and at the moment removing the metal clasps from an eikon, loosening the little nails with a small chisel. He was deep in his work. He shot a hasty glance at the lad as he came in, then turned again to his work, and said drily without looking up: "Good day! What can I do for you?" "Did you recognise me?" asked Ilya. The old man looked at him again. "Perhaps. What d'you want?" "You buy old coins?" "Show me." Ilya shifted his box towards his back, and felt for the pocket where he had his purse with the coins--his hand failed to find it; it trembled like his heart, which beat furiously with hate of the old man, fear of him, and a vague impulse to achieve something decisive. Whilst with his hand he felt under the flap of his overcoat, he looked steadily at the little bald head of the money-changer, and a cold shiver ran down his back. "Well, have you got them?" the old man addressed him crossly. "One moment," answered Ilya softly. At last he succeeded in getting out his purse; he went close up to the counter and shook the coins out on to it. The old man gave one look at them. "That's all, eh?" He took the silver coins up in his thin yellow fingers, and looked at them one at a time, murmuring to himself: "Katherine the Second, Anna, Catherine, Paul, another Paul, a cross-rouble, a thirty-two piece. H'm, who's to see what this is? This is no good, it's all worn away." "But the size shows it's a quarter rouble," said Ilya, harshly. "Fifteen kopecks you can have for it, no more." The old man pushed the coins aside, drew out the drawer of his till with a quick movement, and began to feel about in it. A fierce, stabbing rage took possession of Ilya, piercing through him like a frost-cold iron. He struck out with his arm, and his powerful fist caught the old man on the temple. The money-changer fell against the wall and struck his head hard upon it, but braced himself with his breast against the counter, held fast to it with his hands and stretched out his thin neck towards Ilya. Lunev saw the terrified eyes blinking in the dusky little face and the lips quiver, and he heard a penetrating, groaning whisper: "My darling--my darling."