nine o’clock in the morning
Was n't it lovely to be married ! Was n't marriage a splendid institution ! One was allowed one 's own way in everything , and parents and relations came and congratulated one into the bargain . At nine o'clock in the morning their bedroom was still dark . He would n't open the shutters to let in daylight , but re-lighted the red lamp which threw its bewitching light on the blue eiderdown , the white sheets , a little crumpled now , and the Venus made of plaster of Paris , who stood there rosy-red and without shame . And the red light also fell on his little wife who nestled in her pillows with a look of contrition , and yet so refreshed as if she had never slept so well in all her life . There was no traffic in the street to-day for it was Sunday , and the church-bells were calling people to the morning service with exulting , eager voices , as if they wanted all the world to come to church and praise Him who had created men and women .