five minutes to twelve
The fact is , we had in reserve two bottles of champagne , the real thing , with the label of Veuve Clicquot ; this treasure I had won the previous autumn in a bet with the station-master of D. when I was drinking with him at a christening . It sometimes happens during a lesson in mathematics , when the very air is still with boredom , a butterfly flutters into the class-room ; the boys toss their heads and begin watching its flight with interest , as though they saw before them not a butterfly but something new and strange ; in the same way ordinary champagne , chancing to come into our dreary station , roused us . We sat in silence looking alternately at the clock and at the bottles . When the hands pointed to five minutes to twelve I slowly began uncorking a bottle . I do n't know whether I was affected by the vodka , or whether the bottle was wet , but all I remember is that when the cork flew up to the ceiling with a bang , my bottle slipped out of my hands and fell on the floor . Not more than a glass of the wine was spilt , as I managed to catch the bottle and put my thumb over the foaming neck . `` Well , may the New Year bring you happiness ! ''