two o’clock in the morning
HIS MASTERPIECE CLAUDE was passing in front of the Hotel de Ville , and the clock was striking two o'clock in the morning when the storm burst forth . He had been roaming forgetfully about the Central Markets , during that burning July night , like a loitering artist enamoured of nocturnal Paris . Suddenly the raindrops came down , so large and thick , that he took to his heels and rushed , wildly bewildered , along the Quai de la Greve . But on reaching the Pont Louis Philippe he pulled up , ragefully breathless ; he considered this fear of the rain to be idiotic ; and so amid the pitch-like darkness , under the lashing shower which drowned the gas-jets , he crossed the bridge slowly , with his hands dangling by his side .