nine o’clock
She did not think of looking at the calendar . The heavy step of workmen walking in squads , the noise of wagons of milkmen and marketmen , came to her ear like sounds of good augury . She shuddered at this first awakening of the city . At nine o'clock , in the yard of the little house , she observed M. Fusellier sweeping , in the rain , while smoking his pipe . Madame Fusellier came out of her box . Both looked embarrassed . Madame Fusellier was the first to speak : `` Monsieur Jacques is not at home . ''