Three o'clock
When he had settled himself in bed , he began to drink , as with the thirst of a drunkard , those flowing verses of an inspired being who sang , like a bird , of the dawn of existence , and having breath only for the morning , was silent in the arid light of day ; those verses of a poet who above all mankind was intoxicated with life , expressing his intoxication in fanfares of frank and triumphant love , the echo of all young hearts bewildered with desires . Never had Bertin so perfectly comprehended the physical charm of those poems , which move the senses but hardly touch the intelligence . With his eyes on those vibrating stanzas , he felt that his soul was but twenty years old , radiant with hopes , and he read the volume through in a state of youthful intoxication . Three o'clock struck , and he was astonished to find that he had not yet grown sleepy . He rose to shut his window and to carry his book to a table in the middle of the room ; but at the contact of the cold air a pain , of which several seasons at Aix had not cured him , ran through his loins , like a warning or a recall ; and he threw aside the poet with an impatient movement , muttering : `` Old fool ! '' Then he returned to bed and blew out his light . He did not go to see the Countess the next day , and he even made the energetic resolution not to return there for two days .