four o'clock in the afternoon
You are a strumpet 's daughter , my dear ; you must be a strumpet yourself , if you wish to be anything . The day was drawing near its close . The crowd , moving more rapidly than before , with gaps here and there , was beginning to stream toward the exit , after eddying violently around the success of the year , surfeited , a little weary , but still excited by the artistic electricity with which the atmosphere was charged . A great ray of sunlight , the sunlight of four o'clock in the afternoon , illuminated the rosework of the windows , cast upon the gravelled paths rainbow-like beams that crept gently up the bronze or marble of the statues , suffusing a lovely nude body with bright colors and giving to the vast museum something of the aspect of a garden . Felicia , absorbed in her profound , melancholy reverie , did not see the man who came toward her , superb , refined , fascinating , through the throng of visitors , who respectfully opened a passage for him , while the name of `` Mora '' was whispered on every side . `` Well , well , Mademoiselle , this is a grand triumph . I regret only one thing , that is the unpleasant symbolism that you have concealed in your masterpiece . ''