The hour of five
It needs scarcely be told , after this specimen of slang , that the coachman was a robber , one of the Schoolmaster 's worthy associates . The vehicle then quitted the Rue du Temple . Two hours afterwards , towards the closing of a winter 's day , the vehicle containing the Chouette , the Schoolmaster , and Tortillard , stopped before a wooden cross , marking out the sunken and lonely road which conducted to the farm at Bouqueval , where the Goualeuse remained under the kind protection of Madame Georges . The hour of five had just struck from the church clock of the little village of Bouqueval ; the cold was intense , the sky clear , the sun , sinking slowly behind the vast leafless woods which crowned the heights of Ecouen , cast a purple hue over the horizon , and sent its faint , sloping rays across the extensive plains , white and hard with winter 's frost . In the country each season has its own distinctive features , its own peculiar charm ; at times the dazzling snow changes the whole scene into immense landscapes of purest alabaster , exhibiting their spotless beauties to the reddish gray of the sky . Then may be seen in the glimmer of twilight , either ascending or descending the hill , a benighted farmer returning to his habitation ; his horse , cloak , and hat , are covered with the falling snow . Bitter is the cold , biting the north wind , dark and gloomy the approaching night ; but what cares he ?