nine o'clock in the evening
At nine o'clock in the evening the body of the house at the Theatres des Varietes was still all but empty . A few individuals , it is true , were sitting quietly waiting in the balcony and stalls , but these were lost , as it were , among the ranges of seats whose coverings of cardinal velvet loomed in the subdued light of the dimly burning luster . A shadow enveloped the great red splash of the curtain , and not a sound came from the stage , the unlit footlights , the scattered desks of the orchestra . It was only high overhead in the third gallery , round the domed ceiling where nude females and children flew in heavens which had turned green in the gaslight , that calls and laughter were audible above a continuous hubbub of voices , and heads in women 's and workmen 's caps were ranged , row above row , under the wide-vaulted bays with their gilt-surrounding adornments .