Was it so serious because I thought it so?
Or had I a presentiment?
I do not know.

Perhaps, too, after what has happened, all previous events have taken on a lugubrious tint in my memory.
"I arrived at the steps.

It was an hour past midnight.

A few isvotchiks were before the door, awaiting customers, attracted by the lighted windows (the lighted windows were those of our parlor and reception room).

Without trying to account for this late illumination, I went up the steps, always with the same expectation of something terrible, and I rang.