midnight
Will you come , pet ? Madame H -- Stop a moment , I have lost my thimble again and must find it . BOOK 3 . When midnight strikes , when the embers die away into ashes , when the lamp burns more feebly and your eyes close in spite of yourself , the best thing to do , dear Madame , is to go to bed . Get up from your armchair , take off your bracelets , light your rosecolored taper , and proceed slowly , to the soft accompaniment of your trailing skirt , rustling across the carpet , to your dressing-room , that perfumed sanctuary in which your beauty , knowing itself to be alone , raises its veils , indulges in self-examination , revels in itself and reckons up its treasures as a miser does his wealth . Before the muslin-framed mirror , which reveals all that it sees so well , you pause carelessly and with a smile give one long satisfied look , then with two fingers you withdraw the pin that kept up your hair , and its long , fair tresses unroll and fall in waves , veiling your bare shoulders . With a coquettish hand , the little finger of which is turned up , you caress , as you gather them together , the golden flood of your abundant locks , while with the other you pass through them the tortoiseshell comb that buries itself in the depths of this fair forest and bends with the effort .