three o'clock
The young man rose to take his leave , fearing he might spoil his conquest by some awkward word . He bowed to the ladies , clasped and gently pressed their hands , and then shook hands with the men . He observed that Jacques Rival 's was dry and warm and responded cordially to his pressure ; Norbert de Varenne 's was moist and cold and slipped through his fingers ; Walter 's was cold and soft , without life , expressionless ; Forestier 's fat and warm . His friend whispered to him : `` To-morrow at three o'clock ; do not forget . '' `` Never fear ! '' When he reached the staircase , he felt like running down , his joy was so great ; he went down two steps at a time , but suddenly on the second floor , in the large mirror , he saw a gentleman hurrying on , and he slackened his pace , as much ashamed as if he had been surprised in a crime . He surveyed himself some time with a complacent smile ; then taking leave of his image , he bowed low , ceremoniously , as if saluting some grand personage .