the street which stretched along
outside the paling, and in his fingers, covered with Danish
gloves, he twirled the golden toy from habit. The hat shone like
satin above his head, and on tire cigarette-ease, which he
twirled in his fingers, the sun-gleams were crossing one another.

The street beyond that paling lay before a square which was
rather extensive; this square seemed dominated by two lofty
buildings, before the ornamented fronts of which there was a
great movement of people. Through the broad doors of these
buildings a throng of men went in and came out, equipages stopped
before them; on the steps which led up to them halted, advanced,
decreased, and again increased a crowd of figures clad in black,
noisy, gesticulating, occupied passionately in some work. No
wonder! These were the bank and the exchange, which stood with
opposing fronts, and, with their multitude of windows, seemed to
gaze eye to eye at each other. Kranitski looked neither at these
piles nor the throng of men circulating about them. He had never
had anything in common with activity in those buildings. But all
at once he bent forward a second time and fixed his eyes on a
carriage which passed the paling, or rather he fixed them on the
man sitting in it.

It was Aloysius Darvid who, on that sunny day, was in an open
carriage drawn by a pair of large, costly horses, which, in light
harness without mounting, stepped slowly, with grace and
importance. On the box sat a coachman and footman, in high hats
and immense fur collars; in the carriage, finished in sapphire
damask, a man of not large stature, slender, with pale face,
ruddy side-whiskers, and with the glitter of a golden spark in
the glasses which covered his eyes. Slowly, with dignity, the
carriage with muffled sound of rubber-bound wheels halted before
the bank entrance. The footman sprang from the box, stood at the
door, and taking a card from his master's hand hurried into the
building. Five minutes had not passed when out came two serious
persons who approached the carriage hastily, and began to
converse with the man sitting in it. Surely officials, even
dignitaries of the bank, whom he had summoned by two words
outlined on the card. To go to them, to ascend the high steps, he
had not time perhaps, so they ran down those steps to him. They
did not walk down, they ran, and now, with the most courteous
smiles in the world and with raising of hats above their
important heads, these m