To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustom himself to these deprivations.  But he got used to them at length, after a fashion, and all went smoothly.  He even got used to being hungry in the evening, but he made up for it by treating himself, so to say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his future cloak.  From that time forth, his existence seemed to become, in some; way, fuller, as if he were married, or as if some other man lived in him, as if, in fact, he were not alone, and some pleasant friend had consented to travel along life’s path with him, the friend being no other than the cloak, with thick wadding and a strong lining incapable of wearing out.  He became more lively, and even his character grew firmer, like that of a man who has made up his mind, and set himself a goal.  From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all hesitating and wavering disappeared of themselves.  Fire gleamed in his eyes, and occasionally the boldest and most daring ideas flitted through his mind.  Why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar?  The thought of this almost made him absent-minded.  Once, in copying a letter, he nearly made a mistake, so that he exclaimed almost aloud, “Ugh!” and crossed himself.  Once, in the course of every month, he had a conference with Petrovich on the subject of the cloak, where it would be better to buy the cloth, and the colour, and the price.  He always returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that the time would come at last when it could all be bought, and then the cloak made.

The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected.  For beyond all his hopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-five rubles for Akaky Akakiyevich’s share, but sixty.  Whether he suspected that Akaky Akakiyevich needed a cloak, or whether it was merely chance, at all events, twenty extra rubles were by this means provided.  This circumstance hastened matters.  Two or three months more of hunger and Akaky Akakiyevich had accumulated about eighty rubles.  His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb.  On the first possible day, he went shopping in company with Petrovich.  They bought some very good cloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had been considering the matter for six months, and rarely let a month pass without their visiting the shops to enquire prices.  Petrovich himself said that no better cloth could be had.  For lining, they selected a cotton stuff, but so firm and thick, that Petrovich declared it to be better than silk, and even prettier and more glossy.  They did not buy the marten fur, because it was, in fact, dear, but in its stead, they picked out the very best of cat-skin which could be found in the shop, and which might, indeed, be taken for marten at a distance.

Petrovich worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a great deal of quilting; otherwise it would have been finished sooner.  He charged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have been done for less.  It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams, and Petrovich went over each seam afterwards with his own teeth, stamping in various patterns.