two o'clock
Thanks ! ... God be thanked for the happiness you have given me ! '' He was slowly dying , as consumptives die . I saw him sitting down every day at two o'clock under the windows of the hotel , facing the tranquil sea on an open-air bench . He remained for some time without moving , in the heat of the sun gazing mournfully at the Mediterranean . Every now and then , he cast a glance at the lofty mountains with vaporous summits which shuts in Mentone : then , with a very slow movement , he crossed his long legs , so thin that they seemed two bones , around which fluttered the cloth of his trousers , and he opened a book , which was always the same . And then he did not stir any more , but read on , read on with his eye and his mind ; all his expiring body seemed to read , all his soul plunged , lost itself , disappeared , in this book , up to the hour when the cool air made him cough a little .