seven o’clock
Rodolphe , who had managed the fatality , thought the remark very offhand from a man in his position , comic even , and a little mean . The next day Charles went to sit down on the seat in the arbour . Rays of light were straying through the trellis , the vine leaves threw their shadows on the sand , the jasmines perfumed the air , the heavens were blue , Spanish flies buzzed round the lilies in bloom , and Charles was suffocating like a youth beneath the vague love influences that filled his aching heart . At seven o'clock little Berthe , who had not seen him all the afternoon , went to fetch him to dinner . His head was thrown back against the wall , his eyes closed , his mouth open , and in his hand was a long tress of black hair . `` Come along , papa , '' she said . And thinking he wanted to play ; she pushed him gently .