five o’clock in the morning
The day was over , they went to bed . In the night , towards morning , it all subsided . When they got up and looked out of window , the bare willows with their weakly drooping branches were standing perfectly motionless ; it was dull and still , as though nature now were ashamed of its orgy , of its mad nights , and the license it had given to its passions . The horses , harnessed tandem , had been waiting at the front door since five o'clock in the morning . When it was fully daylight the doctor and the examining magistrate put on their fur coats and felt boots , and , saying good-by to their host , went out . At the steps beside the coachman stood the familiar figure of the constable , Ilya Loshadin , with an old leather bag across his shoulder and no cap on his head , covered with snow all over , and his face was red and wet with perspiration . The footman who had come out to help the gentlemen and cover their legs looked at him sternly and said : `` What are you standing here for , you old devil ?