seven o'clock
It is not my business to note down the horrors of this impious frenzy . It was near five o'clock when he came back to his lodgings ; and then , not to rest . To sit down , to rise again , to walk round the room and round , and stop on a sudden at the window , leaning his elbows on the sash , with hands clenched together , and teeth set ; and so those demoniac hours of night and solitude wore slowly away , and the cold gray stole over the east , and Devereux drank a deep draught of his fiery Lethe , and cast himself down on his bed , and fell at once into a deep , exhausted lethargy . When his servant came to his bed-side at seven o'clock , he was lying motionless , with flushed cheeks , and he could not rouse him . Perhaps it was well , and saved him from brain-fever or madness . But after such paroxysms comes often a reaction , a still , stony , awful despondency . It is only the oscillation between active and passive despair .