a quarter to nine
The open boxes , occupied for the most part by ladies , looked like baskets of flowers , whose petals -- the fans -- shook in a light breeze , wherein hummed a thousand bees . However , just as there are flowers of strong or delicate fragrance , flowers that kill and flowers that console , so from our baskets were exhaled like emanations : there were to be heard dialogues , conversations , remarks that bit and stung . Three or four boxes , however , were still vacant , in spite of the lateness of the hour . The performance had been advertised for half-past eight and it was already a quarter to nine , but the curtain did not go up , as his Excellency had not yet arrived . The gallery-gods , impatient and uncomfortable in their seats , started a racket , clapping their hands and pounding the floor with their canes . `` Boom -- boom -- boom ! Ring up the curtain !