nine o'clock
Eugene was now at the extreme end of the garden . The deep , unbroken stillness of solitude reigned around . At times , and at a distance , was heard the faint rumbling of a coach ; but otherwise nothing interrupted the loneliness of the place and the hour . For , although nine o'clock had just sounded from the tower of St. Jacques , all Paris was at rest , save the few aristocrats who were on their way to balls and banquets , or the houseless wretches who , with their dark lanterns , were searching the gutters for a lost penny . So that Eugene was unobserved , and had full opportunity to draw from his cloak a package which proved to be a rope-ladder of silk ; to unroll , and fling it over the garden wall . It caught in the prongs , and in a few moments he was within the enchanted walls of the palace where Laura de Bonaletta dwelt . She was alone in her pavilion , in the room which led into the garden , and its glass doors now stood wide open .