half past eleven
Kseniya Ippolytovna was the soul of gaiety ; she laughed and jested cheerfully as she waltzed with a Lyceum student , a General 's son . She had re-dressed her hair gorgeously , and wore a pearl necklace round her throat . The old men sat round card-tables in the lounge , talking on local topics . At half past eleven a footman opened the door leading into the dining-room and solemnly announced that supper was served . They supped and toasted , ate and drank amid the clatter of knives , forks , dishes , and spoons . Kseniya made Arkhipov , Polunin , a General and a Magistrate sit beside her . At midnight , just as they were expecting the clock to chime , Kseniya Ippolytovna rose to propose a toast ; in her right hand was a glass ; her left was flung back behind her plaited hair ; she held her head high .