noon
Tell me , can there be any truth in his gloomy predictions ? I try not to think so , but they seem to rest over that brilliant hall of the Louvre like an ominous thunder-cloud . '' The Marquis de Rochebriant was seated in his pleasant apartment , glancing carelessly at the envelopes of many notes and letters lying yet unopened on his breakfast-table . He had risen late at noon , for he had not gone to bed till dawn . The night had been spent at his club -- over the card - table -- by no means to the pecuniary advantage of the Marquis . The reader will have learned , through the conversation recorded in a former chapter between De Mauleon and Enguerrand de Vandemar , that the austere Seigneur Breton had become a fast _ viveur _ of Paris . He had long since spent the remnant of Louvier 's premium of L10 ,000 .