eight
o'clock
In the December twilights , in that hour between daylight and darkness , we would sit upon our low stools before the wood-fire , and continue our series of questions from day to day . We grew ever more eager and excited until the 31st , and in the evening of that momentous day the mysteries were revealed . That day the presents for the two families , wrapped , tied and labeled , were piled upon tables in a room closed against Lucette and me . At eight o'clock the doors were thrown open and we filed in , the elders going first , and each one of us sought for his own gift among the heap of white parcels . For me the moment of entry was an exceedingly joyous one , and until I was twelve or thirteen years of age , I could not refrain from jumping and leaping like a kid long before it came time for us to cross the threshold . We had supper at eleven , and when the clock in the dining room struck the midnight hour , tranquilly , in harmony with the sound of its calm stroke , we separated in the first moments of those New Years that are now buried under the ashes of many succeeding ones . And on those evenings I fell asleep with all my gifts in my room near me .