midnight
He pushed on to the river , careless of the storm , soothed , indeed , by the cool dashes of rain in his face and eyes . The Place de la Concorde seemed to him as day , so brilliant was the glare of its lamps . To the right , the fairyland of the Champs-Elysées , the trees tossing under the sudden blast ; in front , the black trench of the river . On , on -- let him see it all -- gather it all into his accusing heart and brain , and then at a stroke blot out the inward and the outward vision , and ` cease upon the midnight with no pain ' ! He walked till he could walk no more ; then he sank on a dark seat on the Quai Saint-Michel , cursing himself . Had he no nerve left for the last act -- was that what this delay , this fooling meant ? Coward !