five o’clock in the morning
No one was asleep ; they spoke rarely , and only in whispers . Twice his mother came to him behind the screen . Always with the same look of vacant wonder , she slowly made the cross over him , shaking nervously . At five o'clock in the morning he said good-bye to them all affectionately , and even shed tears . As he passed his father 's room , he glanced in at the door . Yevgraf Ivanovitch , who had not taken off his clothes or gone to bed , was standing by the window , drumming on the panes . `` Good-bye ; I am going , '' said his son .