eleven o'clock
That is what I was telling myself just now , while contemplating the back of your neck , and you will readily understand that , under such an impression -- '' She made a grimace at him like that of a disdainful monkey . `` You think it witty , I suppose , to talk nonsense when anyone asks you a serious question ? '' `` Well , then , since you wish it , mademoiselle , you shall have an instructive answer . Some twenty years ago we had , in the post-mortem room at the Hôpital Saint-Joseph , a drunken old watchman , named Daddy Rousseau , who every day at eleven o'clock used to lunch at the end of the table on which the corpse was lying . He ate his lunch because he was hungry . Nothing prevents people who are hungry from eating as soon as they have got something to eat . Only Daddy Rousseau used to say : ` I do n't know whether it is because of the atmosphere of the room , but I must have something fresh and appetizing . ' ''