two
o'clock
He remained gasping , and reread the article in order to grasp its every meaning . He and his equals were thrown aside with outrageous disrespect ; and he arose murmuring those words , which remained on his lips : `` The old-fashioned art of Olivier Bertin . '' Never had such sadness , such discouragement , such a sensation of having reached the end of everything , the end of his mental and physical being , thrown him into such desperate distress of soul . He sat until two o'clock in his armchair , before the fireplace , his legs extended toward the fire , not having strength to move , or to do anything . Then the need of being consoled rose within him , the need to clasp devoted hands , to see faithful eyes , to be pitied , succored , caressed with friendly words . So he went , as usual , to the Countess . When he entered Annette was alone in the drawing-room , standing with her back toward him , hastily writing the address on a letter .