nine o'clock
And yet I have a feeling as though I should never die . Oh , I think to myself : ` Old fogey , it is time you were dead ! ' But there is a little voice in my soul says : ` Do n't believe it ; you wo n't die . ' '' Soon after nine o'clock Mihail Averyanitch would go away . As he put on his fur coat in the entry he would say with a sigh : `` What a wilderness fate has carried us to , though , really ! What 's most vexatious of all is to have to die here . Ech !