four o’clock
retorted Mihalevitch with an imperious wave of the hand . `` Not one second : death does not delay , and life ought not to delay . '' `` And what a time , what a place for men to think of loafing ! '' he cried at four o'clock , in a voice , however , which showed signs of sleepiness ; `` among us ! now ! in Russia where every separate individual has a duty resting upon him , a solemn responsibility to God , to the people , to himself . We are sleeping , and the time is slipping away ; we are sleeping . ''