a quarter past eleven
Stretching and lying snug in her bed , she recalled her meeting yesterday with the doctor and all the thoughts with which she had gone to sleep the night before : she remembered she was unhappy . Then she thought of her husband living in Petersburg , her stewards , doctors , neighbours , the officials of her acquaintance ... a long procession of familiar masculine faces passed before her imagination . She smiled and thought , if only these people could see into her heart and understand her , they would all be at her feet . At a quarter past eleven she called her maid . `` Help me to dress , Dasha , '' she said languidly . `` But go first and tell them to get out the horses . I must set off for Klavdia Nikolaevna 's . ''