about midnight
You may laugh at it if you like , but a vine-dresser of the place , named Garrigue , doubtless a descendant of Garrigou , declared to me that one Christmas night , when he was a little tipsy , he lost his way on the hill of Trinquelague ; and this is what he saw ... . Till eleven o'clock , nothing . All was silent , motionless , inanimate . Suddenly , about midnight , a chime sounded from the top of the steeple , an old , old chime , which seemed as if it were ten leagues off . Very soon Garrigue saw lights flitting about , and uncertain shadows moving in the road that climbs the hill . They passed on beneath the chapel porch , and murmured : `` Good evening , Master Arnoton ! '' `` Good evening , good evening , my friends ! ''