One o’clock
She had merely passed a bad night , but it had for a while quite upset him with anxiety . Now , easy in mind again , Sandoz told Claude that Dubuche had written saying that they were not to wait for him , and giving an appointment at the Palais . They therefore started off , and as it was nearly eleven , they decided to lunch in a deserted little _ cremerie _ in the Rue St. Honore , which they did very leisurely , seized with laziness amidst all their ardent desire to see and know ; and enjoying , as it were , a kind of sweet , tender sadness from lingering awhile and recalling memories of their youth . One o'clock was striking when they crossed the Champs Elysees . It was a lovely day , with a limpid sky , to which the breeze , still somewhat chilly , seemed to impart a brighter azure . Beneath the sun , of the hue of ripe corn , the rows of chestnut trees showed new foliage of a delicate and seemingly freshly varnished green ; and the fountains with their leaping sheafs of water , the well-kept lawns , the deep vistas of the pathways , and the broad open spaces , all lent an air of luxurious grandeur to the panorama . A few carriages , very few at that early hour , were ascending the avenue , while a stream of bewildered , bustling people , suggesting a swarm of ants , plunged into the huge archway of the Palais de l'Industrie .