midnight
On that child 's brow play the demons who had followed the father 's step to his bed of sleep . Back to his own room , close at hand , crept Olivier Dalibard . The walls were lined with books , -- many in language and deep in lore . Moon and Starbeam , ye love the midnight solitude of the scholar ! The Provencal stole to the casement , and looked forth . All was serene , -- breathless trees and gleaming sculpture and whitened sward , girdled by the mass of shadow . Of what thought the man ?