eight o’clock
If they arrived too soon , they seated themselves beneath the hood of the huge kitchen chimney , or stood within the passage-way , or crossed to the Cafe de l'Echiquier , which forms the corner of the street so named . In the early days of the autumn of 1822 , on a Saturday morning , Pierrotin was standing , with his hands thrust into his pockets through the apertures of his blouse , beneath the porte-cochere of the Lion d'Argent , whence he could see , diagonally , the kitchen of the inn , and through the long court-yard to the stables , which were defined in black at the end of it . Daumartin 's diligence had just started , plunging heavily after those of the Touchards . It was past eight o'clock . Under the enormous porch or passage , above which could be read on a long sign , `` Hotel du Lion d'Argent , '' stood the stablemen and porters of the coaching-lines watching the lively start of the vehicles which deceives so many travellers , making them believe that the horses will be kept to that vigorous gait . `` Shall I harness up , master ? '' asked Pierrotin 's hostler , when there was nothing more to be seen along the road .