I heard every word, and he begins to count
some silver out of the till, coin after coin, shining stout pieces. He
gives me back change for a crown.

"Much obliged," he says.

Now I stand and look at these pieces of money for a second. I am
conscious something is wrong somewhere. I do not reflect; do not think
about anything at all--I am simply struck of a heap by all this wealth
which is lying glittering before my eyes--and I gather up the money
mechanically.

I stand outside the counter, stupid with amazement, dumb, paralyzed. I
take a stride towards the door, and stop again. I turn my eyes upon a
certain spot in the wall, where a little bell is suspended to a leather
collar, and underneath this a bundle of string, and I stand and stare
at these things.

The shop-boy is struck by the idea that I want to have a chat as I take
my time so leisurely, and says, as he tidies a lot of wrapping-papers
strewn over the counter:

"It looks as if we were going to have winter snow!"

"Humph! Yes," I reply; "it looks as if we were going to have winter in
earnest now; it looks like it," and a while after, I add: "Ah, well, it
is none too soon."

I could hear myself speak, but each word I uttered struck my ear as if
it were coming from another person. I spoke absolutely unwittingly,
involuntarily, without being conscious of myself.

"Oh, do you think so?" says the boy.

I thrust the hand with the money into my pocket, turned the
door-handle, and left. I could hear that I said good-night, and that
the shop-boy replied to me.

I had gone a few paces away from the shop when the shop-door was torn
open, and the boy called after me. I turned round without any
astonishment, without a trace of fear; I only collected the money into
my hand, and prepared to give it back.

"Beg pardon, you've forgotten your candle," says the boy.

"Ah, thanks," I answered quietly. "Thanks, thanks"; and I strolled on,
down the street, bearing it in my hand.

My first sensible thought referred to the money. I went over to a
lamp-post, counted it, weighed it in my hand, and smiled. So, in spite
of all, I was helped--extraordinarily, grandly, incredibly
helped--helped for a long, long time; and I thrust my hand with the
money into my pocket, and walked on.

Outside an eating-house in Grand Street I stopped, and turned over in
my mind, calmly and quietly, if I should venture so soon to take a
little refreshment. I could hear the rattle of knives a