about seven in the evening
Before he had been ten minutes in the room , men were rushing in all directions , fussing , jostling one another , coming , going , demanding of all the echoes in that huge white-washed barn of a barrack-room dormitory : `` Where is the palliasse of Corporal Vinson ! '' `` Find me the bolster of Corporal Vinson ! '' Whilst Jérôme Fandor was commencing his apprenticeship as a soldier at the Saint Benoit barracks , Verdun , a sordid individual was following an elegant pedestrian who , descending the rue Solférino , went in the direction of the Seine . It was about seven in the evening . `` Pstt ! '' This sound issued from the ragged individual , but the passer-by did not turn his head . `` Monsieur ! ''