six o'clock
And Félicité , on her way upstairs , heard him through the half-open door , and smiled . PART THREE Madame Bathilde Chalumeau , her black cotton frock tucked up round her plump figure over her scarlet-flannel petticoat , was dusting the windows of her shop in the Rue Dessous l'Arche . It was only six o'clock and the air as yet was cool , but the trees leaning over the wall of Avocat Millot 's garden opposite were grey with dust and parched with the heat of an exceptionally warm September . Madame Chalumeau , who was standing on a chair energetically flopping her feather-brush over the panes of her double shop-front , sighed as she looked up at the brilliant sky . `` It is to be a heat of the devil , '' she thought . Next door to her , _ chez _ Bouillard , nothing was stirring .