midnight
The only son of _ Caldera _ was in there , sometimes in bed , in obedience to his mother , who could conceive of no illness without the cup of hot water and seclusion between the bed-sheets ; at other times he sat up , his jaws supported by his hands , gazing obstinately into the furthermost corner of the room . His father , wrinkling his shaggy white brows , would walk about when left alone , or , through force of habit , take a look at the neighboring fields , but without any desire to bend over and pluck out any of the weeds that were beginning to sprout in the furrows . Much this land mattered to him now , -- the earth in whose bowels he had left the sweat of his body and the strength of his limbs ! ... His son was all he had , -- the fruit of a late marriage , -- and he was a sturdy youth , as industrious and taciturn as his father ; a soldier of the soil , who required neither orders nor threat to fulfil his duties ; ready to awake at midnight when it was his turn to irrigate his land and give the fields drink under the light of the stars ; quick to spring from his bed on the hard kitchen bench , throwing off the covers and putting on his hemp sandals at the sound of the early rooster 's reveille . Uncle Pascal had never smiled . He was the Latin type of father ; the fearful master of the house , who , on returning from his labors , ate alone , served by his wife , who stood by with an expression of submission . But this grave , harsh mask of an omnipotent master concealed a boundless admiration for his son , who was his best work .