ten o’clock in the morning
The cases of red herrings , the Nantes sardines on their layers of leaves , and the rolled cod , exposed for sale under the eyes of stout , faded fish-wives , brought him thoughts of a voyage necessitating a vast supply of salted provisions . In the afternoon the markets became quieter , grew drowsy ; and Florent then shut himself up in his office , made out his reports , and enjoyed the happiest hours of his day . If he happened to go out and cross the fish market , he found it almost deserted . There was no longer the crushing and pushing and uproar of ten o'clock in the morning . The fish-wives , seated behind their stalls , leant back knitting , while a few belated purchasers prowled about casting sidelong glances at the remaining fish , with the thoughtful eyes and compressed lips of women closely calculating the price of their dinner . At last the twilight fell , there was a noise of boxes being moved , and the fish was laid for the night on beds of ice ; and then , after witnessing the closing of the gates , Florent went off , seemingly carrying the fish market along with him in his clothes and his beard and his hair . For the first few months this penetrating odour caused him no great discomfort .