Loshadin went in and out several times, clearing away the tea things; smacking his lips and sighing, he kept tramping round the table; at last he took his little lamp and went out, and, looking at his long, grey headed, bent figure from behind, Lyzhin thought: 'Just like a magician in an opera.' It was dark. The moon must have been behind the clouds, as the windows and the snow on the window-frames could be seen distinctly. 'Oo-oo-oo-oo!' sang the storm, 'Oo-oo- oo-oo!' 'Ho-o-ly sa-aints!' wailed a woman in the loft, or it sounded like it. 'Ho-o-ly sa-aints!' 'Boo-oof!' something outside banged against the wall. 'Trac!' The examining magistrate listened: there was no woman up there, it was the wind howling.
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