one o’clock
She was calm and pure , but I was lashed with maddening ideas . `` Why should she not be mine ? '' I thought ; `` perhaps she is , like me , in this whirlwind of agitation . '' At one o'clock , I went down , walking noiselessly , and lay before her door . With my ear pressed to a chink I could hear her equable , gentle breathing , like that of a child . When chilled to the bone I went back to bed and slept tranquilly till morning . I know not what prenatal influence , what nature within me , causes the delight I take in going to the brink of precipices , sounding the gulf of evil , seeking to know its depths , feeling its icy chill , and retreating in deep emotion .