noon
TIME , as a rushing wind , slips by , and brings us Dulce 's ball . The night is lovely and balmy as any evening in the Summer months gone by , though now September shakes the leaves to their fall . A little breeze sweeps up from the ocean , where the `` lights around the shore '' show mystical and bright ; while overhead , all down the steeps of heaven , myriad stars are set , to flood the sleeping world with their cold , clear beauty . Upon the walls , and all along the balconies , lie patches of broken moonshine ; and in the garden the pale beams revel and kiss the buds until they wake ; and `` all flowers that blow by day come forth , as t ` were high noon . '' In the library the lamps are lowered . Nobody has come down-stairs yet , and the footman , giving the last lingering touch to the little sweet gossiping fire that warns them of Winter 's approach , turns to leave the room . On the threshold , however , he stands aside to let Miss Vibart enter .