six o'clock in the morning
He rushed on , seeing nothing , bruising himself and stumbling . At last a projecting branch struck him violently on the temple . He staggered , put up a feeble hand , sank on the grass against a trunk , and fainted . It was between five and six o'clock in the morning . In the Tuileries Gardens flowers , grass , and trees were drenched in dew , the great shadow of the Palace spread grey and cool over terraces and slopes , while beyond the young sun had already shaken off all cumbering mists , and was pouring from a cloudless sky over the river with its barges and swimming-baths , over the bridges and the quays , and the vast courts and facades of the Louvre . Yet among the trees the air was still exquisitely fresh , the sun still a friend to be welcomed . The light morning wind swept the open , deserted spaces of the Gardens , playing merrily with the dust , the leaves , the fountains .