ten o'clock
I was not morbid . To the mountains ! to the cold which stays corruption , the snows which are pure , and the eternal silence ! By ten o'clock that night I was well on my way . I went abroad that year for my holiday , but spent the last week of it in London on my way home . All the vapours of sentimentality had disappeared by that time . My nerves had been braced in the Alps , my mind had been calmed and refreshed by the warm blue Mediterranean , my sense of comparison emphasized in Egypt , where I perceived anew the law of mutability , the inevitable law , by the decree of which the human race is eternal , while we , its constituent atoms , have but a moment of intensity to blaze and burn out .