“So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object that meets them on the way,” flashed through his mind, but simply flashed, like lightning; he made haste to dismiss this thought.⁠ ⁠… And by now he was near; here was the house, here was the gate. Suddenly a clock somewhere struck once. “What! can it be half-past seven? Impossible, it must be fast!”

Luckily for him, everything went well again at the gates. At that very moment, as though expressly for his benefit, a huge wagon of hay had just driven in at the gate, completely screening him as he passed under the gateway, and the wagon had scarcely had time to drive through into the yard, before he had slipped in a flash to the right. On the other side of the wagon he could hear shouting and quarrelling; but no one noticed him and no one met him. Many windows looking into that huge quadrangular yard were open at that moment, but he did not raise his head⁠—he had not the strength to. The staircase leading to the old woman’s room was close by, just on the right of the gateway. He was already on the stairs.⁠ ⁠…