twelve
o'clock at night
Chapter 3 All Aflame with Love of France SPEAKING of this matter reminds me of many incidents , many things that I could tell , but I think I will not try to do it now . It will be more to my present humor to call back a little glimpse of the simple and colorless good times we used to have in our village homes in those peaceful days -- especially in the winter . In the summer we children were out on the breezy uplands with the flocks from dawn till night , and then there was noisy frolicking and all that ; but winter was the cozy time , winter was the snug time . Often we gathered in old Jacques d'Arc 's big dirt-floored apartment , with a great fire going , and played games , and sang songs , and told fortunes , and listened to the old villagers tell tales and histories and lies and one thing and another till twelve o'clock at night . One winter 's night we were gathered there -- it was the winter that for years afterward they called the hard winter -- and that particular night was a sharp one . It blew a gale outside , and the screaming of the wind was a stirring sound , and I think I may say it was beautiful , for I think it is great and fine and beautiful to hear the wind rage and storm and blow its clarions like that , when you are inside and comfortable . And we were .