about eleven o'clock
Here a fellow could certainly write if only he had it in him . Impatiently I slaved at my French . Five hours sleep was plenty . In the small apartment we had taken just on the edge of the Luxembourg Gardens , on the nights when we were working at home , one of us at his easel , another at his drafting board , myself at my desk , we would knock off at about eleven o'clock and come down for beer and a long smoke in front of the café below . A homely little place it was , with two rows of small iron tables in front , and at one of these we would seat ourselves . Behind us in the window was a long glass tank of gold fish , into which from time to time a huge cat would reach an omnivorous paw . Often from within the café we would hear Russian folk songs played on balalaikas by a group of Russian students there .