midday
After lying for a while he got up and , wringing his hands , walked about the room , not as usual from corner to corner , but round the room beside the walls . As he passed he glanced at himself in the looking-glass . His face looked pale and sunken , his temples looked hollow , his eyes were bigger , darker , more staring , as though they belonged to someone else , and they had an expression of insufferable mental agony . At midday the artist knocked at the door . `` Grigory , are you at home ? '' he asked . Getting no answer , he stood for a minute , pondered , and answered himself in Little Russian : `` Nay .