ten o’clock
No , no , said he , Morin was not a rich man , and moreover he had work to attend to . Why should he take him away from his duties , when it was so easy , so simple , for him to go off alone ? He was going back into exile as into misery and grief which he had long known , like some Wandering Jew of Liberty , ever driven onward through the world . When he took leave of the others at ten o'clock , in the little sleepy street just outside the house , tears suddenly dimmed his eyes . `` Ah ! I 'm no longer a young man , '' he said ; `` it 's all over this time . I shall never come back again .