half past five
Thunder rolled with menacing crashes up the valley and scattered through the woods in intermittent batteries . He stumbled blindly on , hunting for a way out , and finally , through webs of twisted branches , caught sight of a rift in the trees where the unbroken lightning showed open country . He rushed to the edge of the woods and then hesitated whether or not to cross the fields and try to reach the shelter of the little house marked by a light far down the valley . It was only half past five , but he could see scarcely ten steps before him , except when the lightning made everything vivid and grotesque for great sweeps around . Suddenly a strange sound fell on his ears . It was a song , in a low , husky voice , a girl 's voice , and whoever was singing was very close to him . A year before he might have laughed , or trembled ; but in his restless mood he only stood and listened while the words sank into his consciousness : `` Les sanglots longs Des violons De l'automne Blessent mon coeur D'une langueur Monotone . ''