six o'clock in the morning
As soon as Monsieur Hochon had , as it were , slivered the bouilli into slices , about as thick as the sole of a dancing-shoe , that dish was replaced by another , containing three pigeons . The wine was of the country , vintage 1811 . On a hint from her grandmother , Adolphine had decorated each end of the table with a bunch of flowers . `` At Rome as the Romans do , '' thought the artist , looking at the table , and beginning to eat , -- like a man who had breakfasted at Vierzon , at six o'clock in the morning , on an execrable cup of coffee . When Joseph had eaten up all his bread and asked for more , Monsieur Hochon rose , slowly searched in the pocket of his surtout for a key , unlocked a cupboard behind him , broke off a section of a twelve-pound loaf , carefully cut a round of it , then divided the round in two , laid the pieces on a plate , and passed the plate across the table to the young painter , with the silence and coolness of an old soldier who says to himself on the eve of battle , `` Well , I can meet death . '' Joseph took the half-slice , and fully understood that he was not to ask for any more . No member of the family was the least surprised at this extraordinary performance .