eleven o'clock
Every one lays aside on this auspicious day differences of politics , family feuds , and social animosities . Even enemies join hands and kneel side by side at the same altar . It is the mediaeval `` God 's truce '' celebrated in the nineteenth century . * * * * * It is now eleven o'clock . A great deal of sausage and garlic , washed down by new wine and light beer , has been by this time consumed in eating-shops and on street tables ; much coffee , _ liqueurs _ , cake , and bonbons , inside the palaces . Suddenly all the church-bells , which have rung out since daybreak like mad , stop ; only the deep-toned cathedral-bell booms out from its snowy campanile in half-minute strokes . There is an instant lull , the din and clatter of the streets cease , the crowd surges , separates , and disappears , the palace windows and balconies empty themselves , the street forms are vacant .