About five o'clock
Then he buttoned his glove with much dignity and stalked off , but when well around the corner and hidden from the gardener 's view , the conviction that he was an idiot came home to him in a furious blush . Ten minutes later he sat in his room in the Hôtel du Sénat repeating with an imbecile smile : `` What an ass I am , what an ass ! '' An hour later found him in the same chair , in the same position , his hat and gloves still on , his stick in his hand , but he was silent , apparently lost in contemplation of his boot toes , and his smile was less imbecile and even a bit retrospective . About five o'clock that afternoon , the little sad-eyed woman who fills the position of concierge at the Hôtel du Sénat held up her hands in amazement to see a wagon-load of flower-bearing shrubs draw up before the doorway . She called Joseph , the intemperate garçon , who , while calculating the value of the flowers in _ petits verres _ , gloomily disclaimed any knowledge as to their destination . '' _ Voyons _ , '' said the little concierge , '' _ cherchons la femme _ ! '' `` You ? ''