eleven o'clock
For one thing , on Mondays , the market-day , the Café Prosper was untenantable . From early morning it was overrun with truck-peddlers , farmers , and poultrymen . Heavy men with coarse voices , red necks , and great whips in their hands , wearing blue blouses and otter-skin caps , bargaining over their cups , stamping their feet , striking their fists , familiar with the servant , and bungling at billiards . When the Captain came , at eleven o'clock , for his first glass of absinthe , he found this crowd gathered , and already half-drunk , ordering a quantity of lunches . His usual place was taken , and he was served slowly and badly . The bell was continually sounding , and the proprietor and the waiter , with napkins under their arms , were running distractedly hither and thither . In short , it was an ill-omened day , which upset his entire existence .