eight o'clock in the morning
Then , he crossed the Brindelle over a bridge formed of a single tree thrown lengthwise , with a rope attached to two stakes driven into the river 's banks as its only balustrade . The wood , which belonged to M. Renardet , the Mayor of Carvelin , and the largest landowner in the district , consisted of a number of huge old trees , straight as pillars , and extending for about half a league along the left-bank of the stream which served as a boundary for this immense arch of foliage . Alongside the water there were large shrubs warmed by the sun ; but under the trees you found nothing but moss , thick , soft , plastic moss , which exhaled into the stagnant air a light odor of loam with withered branches . Mederic slackened his pace , took off his black cap adorned with red lace , and wiped his forehead , for it was by this time hot in the meadows , though it was not yet eight o'clock in the morning . He had just recovered from the effects of the heat , and resumed his accelerated pace when he noticed at the foot of a tree a knife , a child 's small knife . When he picked it up , he discovered a thimble and also a needle-case not far away . Having taken up these objects , he thought : `` I 'll intrust them to the Mayor , '' and he resumed his journey , but now he kept his eyes open expecting to find something else .