ten o’clock
The doctor and lawyer had clubbed together to buy a new suit of clothes in which Fraisier could decently present himself before Mme. la Presidente Camusot de Marville . Indeed , if the clothes had been ready , the interview would have taken place sooner , for the fate of the couple hung upon its issues . Fraisier left Mme. Cibot , and went to try on his new clothes . He found them waiting for him , went home , adjusted his new wig , and towards ten o'clock that morning set out in a carriage from a livery stable for the Rue de Hanovre , hoping for an audience . In his white tie , yellow gloves , and new wig , redolent of _ eau de Portugal _ , he looked something like a poisonous essence kept in a cut-glass bottle , seeming but the more deadly because everything about it is daintily neat , from the stopper covered with white kid to the label and the thread . His peremptory manner , the eruption on his blotched countenance , the green eyes , and a malignant something about him , -- all these things struck the beholder with the same sense of surprise as storm-clouds in a blue sky . If in his private office , as he showed himself to La Cibot , he was the common knife that a murderer catches up for his crime , -- now , at the Presidente 's door , he was the daintily-wrought dagger which a woman sets among the ornaments on her what-not .