eight o'clock
As she rode past , Arithelli made him a little bow . It was the salute of a courteous duellist to his adversary . To his profound surprise the Manager found himself acknowledging it , with like dignity . At eight o'clock that evening she sat before the glass in her dressing-room and awaited the shouted summons of the impish call-boy , who respected no one on earth , and to whom she was never `` Mamzelle '' or `` Señora , '' but only Arithelli . The dresser had gone out for an instant , leaving the door ajar , and a noisy burst of applause swept along the passage . The audience was in a particularly good temper , and ready to be amused at anything . In view of the royal guests the Manager had provided several exciting novelties .