Akaky went home in utter desolation. How was he to find so vast a sum? He resolved to banish every needless expense: to drink no tea in the evenings, to burn no candle, and, when he walked along the streets, to step as lightly as he could upon the stones, almost upon tiptoe, that he might not wear out his soles too soon. At first it was hard, but in time he grew used to it; he even learned to go hungry of an evening, for he fed his spirit upon the eternal thought of the coat to come. From that time his whole existence seemed somehow fuller, as though he had married, as though some other person were present with him. There remained only the question of where the money was to be found. Now it was the custom that the director should give the clerks a holiday bonus, and the sum proved larger by some forty rubles than Akaky had dared to hope. Together with his hoardings this was almost enough. He and Petrovich went to choose the cloth, and a good calico for the lining, and for the collar they bought the best cat fur, which at a little distance might always be taken for marten. Petrovich was a whole fortnight over the coat, for there was a vast deal of quilting. And on a morning never to be forgotten he brought it home at last, in good time, before Akaky must set out for the department. Never in his life had Petrovich brought home a garment with such solemnity. He drew the overcoat from a handkerchief, held it up against the light, and threw it with dexterity over Akaky's shoulders. It sat well; and Petrovich, glad of the occasion, could not forbear following him a long way down the street, purely to admire the overcoat from every side.