three o’clock
Now he saved her life : now she blessed his existence . Now his reverie was too vague and misty to define its subject . It was a stream of passion , joy , sweet voices , tender tones , exulting hopes , beaming faces , chaste embraces , immortal transports ! It was three o'clock , and for the twentieth time our hero made an effort to recall himself to the realities of life . How cold , how tame , how lifeless , how imperfect , how inconsecutive , did everything appear ! This is the curse of reverie . But they who revel in its pleasures must bear its pains , and are content .