midnight
The book he held in his hands fell to his knees . He abandoned himself to the mood which dominated him , watching the dead years of his life filled with so many disgusts and fears , move past . What a life he had lived ! He thought of the evenings spent in society , the horse races , card parties , love affairs ordered in advance and served at the stroke of midnight , in his rose-colored boudoir ! He recalled faces , expressions , vain words which obsessed him with the stubbornness of popular melodies which one can not help humming , but which suddenly and inexplicably end by boring one . This phase had not lasted long . His memory gave him respite and he plunged again into his Latin studies , so as to efface the impressions of such recollections .