six o'clock in the morning
Amedee felt a cruelly discouraged feeling , and thought , with deep sadness : `` She never will love me ! '' To conquer this new grief , he plunged still more deeply into work ; but he did not find his former animation and energy . After the drizzling rain of the last days of March , the spring arrived . Now , when Amedee awoke , it was broad daylight at six o'clock in the morning . Opening his mansard window , he admired , above the tops of the roofs , the large , ruddy sun rising in the soft gray sky , and from the convent gardens beneath came a fresh odor of grass and damp earth . Under the shade of the arched lindens which led to the shrine of a plaster Virgin , a first and almost imperceptible rustle , a presentiment of verdure , so to speak , ran through the branches , and the three almond trees in the kitchen-garden put forth their delicate flowers . The young poet was invaded by a sweet and overwhelming languor , and Maria 's face , which was commonly before his inner vision upon awakening , became confused and passed from his mind .