eleven o'clock
A searching mistral blew through the streets for four days , parching the blood , and on the night of the fourth rose to something like a hurricane . Our players fought their way against it to the theatre , only to find it empty ; and returned in the lowest of spirits . The pretty Bianca was especially disconsolate . Before dawn the gale dropped , and between eleven o'clock and noon , in a flat calm , the snow began , freezing as it fell . The Prince Camillo did not show himself in the streets that day . But towards dusk , as we passed down the Via Roma , he drove by in an improvised sleigh with bells jingling on the necks of his horses . He was bound for the theatre , which stood at the head of the street .