Six in the evening
I would show it fluttering and astonished , as if feeling the first premonitions of distress . Then , in the gulf of Lion , when the Zouave was further offshore and the sea a little rougher , I would present it at grips with the storm , clutching , bewildered , at the head of our hero , its long blue woollen tassel streaming in the spume and gusting wind . The fourth position . Six in the evening . Off the coast of Corsica . The wretched chechia is leaning over the rail and sadly contemplating the depths of the ocean . Fifth and last position .