Eleven o'clock
Something was pressing on my shoulder , thrusting me slowly into consciousness . Half awake , I wrenched myself free , snatching for my sword as I did so . It was a chill and cloudy morning , and Brutus was standing by my bed , holding a bowl of chocolate between a thumb and forefinger , that made the piece of china look as delicately fragile as a flower . `` Eleven o'clock , '' he said . `` You sleep late . '' I looked at him blankly , still trying to shake off the drowsiness that crowded upon me . It seemed only a few minutes back that he had lighted me to that room .