five o'clock in the morning
Our last evening was spent in a long conversation with M. Fridriksson , whom I liked very much -- the more that I never expected to see him or anyone else again . After this agreeable way of spending an hour or so , I tried to sleep . In vain ; with the exception of a few dozes , my night was miserable . At five o'clock in the morning I was awakened from the only real half hour 's sleep of the night by the loud neighing of horses under my window . I hastily dressed myself and went down into the street . Hans was engaged in putting the finishing stroke to our baggage , which he did in a silent , quiet way that won my admiration , and yet he did it admirably well . My uncle wasted a great deal of breath in giving him directions , but worthy Hans took not the slightest notice of his words .