Nothing seemed to stir inside when the boy approached.
Had Okoya glanced at that little opening he might have discerned a woman's face, which looked out of it for a moment and then disappeared within.

Had he stepped closer to the wall he might have heard a woman's voice inside calling out in a low tone,--"Mitsha, he is coming!" But he neither looked nor listened; he was barely able to think.

His feelings overpowered him completely; wrapped in them he stood still, lost in conflicting sentiments, a human statue flooded by the silvery moonlight.
Somebody coughed within the house, but he did not hear it.

Again the face appeared in the small, round air-hole.

Okoya had his face turned to the east and away from the wall of the house.