In the morning he gets up from his rest and opens the doors of the house. But he does so, not to see what happened in the night or to check on his concubine or to seek justice for the dogs who abused her. That was apparently of no concern to him; he had thrust his concubine outside at night and gone to bed, since he was no longer personally threatened. So now, he opened the doors in order to go on his way,
as though nothing had happened. The sheer ordinariness of it all is so chilling. He seems to give no thought to her at all until he at last finds her (behold!
) on the doorstep of the house.1
27 And her master rose up in the morning, and when he opened the doors of the house and went out to go on his way, behold, there was his concubine lying at the door of the house, with her hands on the threshold.