twelve o'clock
On the great race track of Longchamps , in the Bois de Boulogne , the vast herd of cows , sheep , horses , and goats , collected together by the city government of Paris and attended by fifty or sixty shepherds especially imported from _ les Landes _ , had long since ceased to browse and had settled themselves down into the profound slumber of the animal world , broken only by an occasional bleating or the restless whinnying of a stallion . On the race course proper , in front of the grandstand and between it and the judge 's box , four of these shepherds had built a small fire and by its light were throwing dice for coppers . They were having an easy time of it , these shepherds , for their flocks did not wander , and all that they had to do was to see that the animals were properly driven to such parts of the Bois as would afford proper nourishment . `` Well , _ mes enfants _ , '' exclaimed old Adrian Bannalec , pulling a turnip-shaped watch from beneath his blouse and holding it up to the firelight , `` it 's twelve o'clock and time to turn in . But what do you say to a cup of chocolate first ? '' The others greeted the suggestion with approval , and going somewhere underneath the grandstand , Bannalec produced a pot filled with water , which he suspended with much dexterity over the fire upon the end of a pointed stick . The water began to boil almost immediately , and they were on the point of breaking their chocolate into it when , from what appeared to be an immense distance , through the air there came a curious rumble .