midnight
The Baron , in his abstraction , scarcely half comprehended . `` The maid , '' he said , `` just the maid ! '' and never a word more , but into a new topic . `` I trust so , '' thought the Count ; `` but the fair songster who signals from her window and has clandestine meetings at midnight with masculine voices must expect some incredulity on that point . Can it be possible that here I have Bluebeard or Lothario ? The laughter of the woman seems to indicate that if here is not Lothario , here at all events is something more than seems upon the surface . _ Tonnerre de dieu !