seven to eight o'clock
Half an hour later he was in the woods of Ville d'Avray . Rodolphe strolled about all day , let loose amongst rejuvenated nature , and only returned to Paris at nightfall . After having put the temple which was to receive his idol in nature , Rodolphe arrayed himself for the occasion , greatly regretting not being able to dress in white . From seven to eight o'clock he was a prey to the sharp fever of expectation . A slow torture , that recalled to him the old days and the old loves which had sweetened them . Then , according to habit , he already began to dream of an exalted passion , a love affair in ten volumes , a genuine lyric with moonlight , setting suns , meetings beneath the willows , jealousies , sighs and all the rest . He was like this every time chance brought a woman to his door , and not one had left him without bearing away any aureola about her head and a necklace of tears about her neck .