five minutes to
one
There was something unspeakably wretched and dismal in this open-air display of fruit and cakes , -- the delicacies of the dying , the _ viaticum _ of invalids , craved by feverish mouths , longed for by the death-agony , -- which workingmen 's hands , black with toil , purchase as they pass , to carry to the hospital and offer death a tempting morsel . Children carried them with sober faces , almost reverentially , and without touching them , as if they understood . The cab stopped before the gate of the courtyard . It was five minutes to one . There was a long line of women crowding about the gate , women with their working clothes on , sorrowful , depressed and silent . Mademoiselle de Varandeuil took her place in the line , went forward with the others and was admitted : they searched her . She inquired for Salle Sainte-Joséphine , and was directed to the second wing on the second floor .