three
o'clock at night
She ought to have thought what she was about and have been softened , but she concealed her horror and was more obstinate than ever . Like every wife she had her own method of treating Andrey Antonovitch , which she had tried more than once already and with it driven him to frenzy . Yulia Mihailovna 's method was that of contemptuous silence , for one hour , two , a whole day and almost for three days and nights -- silence whatever happened , whatever he said , whatever he did , even if he had clambered up to throw himself out of a three-story window -- a method unendurable for a sensitive man ! Whether Yulia Mihailovna meant to punish her husband for his blunders of the last few days and the jealous envy he , as the chief authority in the town , felt for her administrative abilities ; whether she was indignant at his criticism of her behaviour with the young people and local society generally , and lack of comprehension of her subtle and far-sighted political aims ; or was angry with his stupid and senseless jealousy of Pyotr Stepanovitch -- however that may have been , she made up her mind not to be softened even now , in spite of its being three o'clock at night , and though Andrey Antonovitch was in a state of emotion such as she had never seen him in before . Pacing up and down in all directions over the rugs of her boudoir , beside himself , he poured out everything , everything , quite disconnectedly , it 's true , but everything that had been rankling in his heart , for -- `` it was outrageous . '' He began by saying that he was a laughing-stock to every one and `` was being led by the nose . '' `` Curse the expression , '' he squealed , at once catching her smile , `` let it stand , it 's true ... .