About eight o’clock in the evening
For some days Raphael lay plunged in the torpor of this artificial sleep . Thanks to the material power that opium exerts over the immaterial part of us , this man with the powerful and active imagination reduced himself to the level of those sluggish forms of animal life that lurk in the depths of forests , and take the form of vegetable refuse , never stirring from their place to catch their easy prey . He had darkened the very sun in heaven ; the daylight never entered his room . About eight o'clock in the evening he would leave his bed , with no very clear consciousness of his own existence ; he would satisfy the claims of hunger and return to bed immediately . One dull blighted hour after another only brought confused pictures and appearances before him , and lights and shadows against a background of darkness . He lay buried in deep silence ; movement and intelligence were completely annihilated for him . He woke later than usual one evening , and found that his dinner was not ready .