eleven at night
The theatres were ablaze with lights . The road was full of carriages . The _ trottoir _ was almost as populous as at noon . The idlers outside the _ cafés _ were still eating their ices and sipping their _ eau-sucré _ as though , instead of being past eleven at night , it was scarcely eleven in the morning . In a few minutes , we had once more turned aside out of the great thoroughfare , and stopped at a private house in a quiet street . A carriage driving off , a cab drawing up behind our own , open windows with drawn blinds , upon which were profiled passing shadows of the guests within , and the ringing tones of a soprano voice , accompanied by a piano , gave sufficient indication of a party , and had served to attract a little crowd of soldiers and _ gamins _ about the doorway . Having left our over-coats with a servant , we were ushered upstairs , and , as the song was not yet ended , slipped in unannounced and stationed ourselves just between two crowded drawing-rooms , where , sheltered by the folds of a muslin curtain , we could see all that was going on in both .