ten o'clock
During that first walk his only impression of Paris was that of an old and ill-kept town . Christophe was accustomed to the towns of the new German Empire , that were both very old and very young , towns in which there is expressed a new birth of pride : and he was unpleasantly surprised by the shabby streets , the muddy roads , the hustling people , the confused traffic -- vehicles of every sort and shape : venerable horse omnibuses , steam trams , electric trams , all sorts of trams -- booths on the pavements , merry-go-rounds of wooden horses -LRB- or monsters and gargoyles -RRB- in the squares that were choked up with statues of gentlemen in frock-coats : all sorts of relics of a town of the Middle Ages endowed with the privilege of universal suffrage , but quite incapable of breaking free from its old vagabond existence . The fog of the preceding day had turned to a light , soaking rain . In many of the shops the gas was lit , although it was past ten o'clock . Christophe lost his way in the labyrinth of streets round the _ Place des Victoires _ , but eventually found the shop he was looking for in the _ Rue de la Banque _ . As he entered he thought he saw Diener at the back of the long , dark shop , arranging packages of goods , together with some of the assistants . But he was a little short-sighted , and could not trust his eyes , although it was very rarely that they deceived him .