about eleven at night
I engaged a garden ; I devoted myself to horticulture ; I worked frantically , like a man whom nothing can divert , turning up the soil of the market-garden , and appropriating the ground to the culture of flowers . Like the maniacs of England , or of Holland , I gave it out that I was devoted to one kind of flower , and especially grew dahlias , collecting every variety . You will understand that my conduct , even in the smallest details , was laid down for me by the Count , whose whole intellectual powers were directed to the most trifling incidents of the tragi-comedy enacted in the Rue Saint-Maur . As soon as the Countess had gone to bed , at about eleven at night , Octave , Madame Gobain , and I sat in council . I heard the old woman 's report to the Count of his wife 's least proceedings during the day . He inquired into everything : her meals , her occupations , her frame of mind , her plans for the morrow , the flowers she proposed to imitate . I understood what love in despair may be when it is the threefold passion of the heart , the mind , and the senses .