three o'clock in the morning
Every evening , the little girl went and listened at a grated window to the day 's crop of condemnations , the _ List of Prize Winners in the Lottery of Saint Guillotine _ . She answered every knock at the door , thinking that they had come to take her father to the Place de la Révolution , whither her uncle had already been taken . The moment came when money , the money that was so scarce , no longer procured bread . It was necessary to go and get it , almost by force , at the doors of the bakeries ; it was necessary to earn it by standing for hours in the cold , biting night air , in the crushing pressure of crowds of people ; to stand in line from three o'clock in the morning . The father did not care to venture into that mass of humanity . He was afraid of being recognized , of compromising himself by one of those outbursts to which his impetuous nature would have given vent , no matter where he might be . Then , too , he recoiled from the fatigue and severity of the task .