Explore "The Old House" by Fyodor Sologub on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The thought that Boris had been hanged could not enter into their habitual, everyday thoughts. Only in the hour when the sun was at its zenith, and in the hour of the midnight moon, it would penetrate their awakened consciousness like a sharp poniard. Again it would pierce the soul with a sharp, tormenting pain, and again it would vanish in the dim mist of dawn with a kind of dull agony. And again, the same unreasonable conviction would awake in their hearts.
No, Borya will return. The bell will suddenly ring, and the door will be opened to him.