midnight
His face , as he uttered the words , was no bad emblem of the nature within , -- a high and noble brow , lit up by the impress of a great ambition , and , beneath , eyes of changeful and treacherous meaning ; while , lower down again , in the compressed lips and projecting chin might be read the signs of an unrelenting spirit . Passing along through many a tortuous path , he at last reached a small private gate which led into the grounds of the `` Moskova . '' He had to bethink him for a moment of the way which conducted to the gardens , but he soon remembered the direction , and walked on . It was the hour when in Italy the whole face of a country , the busiest streets of a thronged city , are deserted , and a stillness far more unbroken than that of midnight prevails . The glowing hours of noonday had brought the `` siesta , '' and not a laborer was to be seen in the fields . D'Esmonde found the garden unlocked , and entered . He knew that by passing directly onward to the `` orangery '' he could enter the villa by a small door , which led into the private apartments of the Prince .