five o’clock in summer
If I had not already lived for six months within prison-walls , I should , in spite of Monsieur Bonnet 's grand words -- for he , I can truly say , is the father of my soul -- I should , ah ! I must have flung myself into the sea at the mere sight of my companions . Out-doors I still could live ; but in the building , whether to sleep or to eat , -- to eat out of buckets , and each bucket filled for three couples , -- it was life no longer , it was death ; the atrocious faces and language of my companions were always insufferable to me . Happily , from five o'clock in summer , and from half-past seven o'clock in winter we went , in spite of heat or cold and wind or rain , on ` fatigue , ' that is , hard-labor . Thus half this life was spent in the open air ; and the air was sweet after the close dormitory packed with eight hundred convicts . And that air , too , is sea-air ! We could enjoy the breezes , we could be friends with the sun , we could watch the clouds as they passed above us , we could hope and pray for fine weather !