six in the evening
It is dark in the house . It smells sweetly of the half-withered sedge . Quiet reigns . Until dinner , which is served at six in the evening , the time drags endlessly long and with intolerable monotony . And , in general , this daily interval is the heaviest and emptiest in the life of the house . It remotely resembles in its moods those slothful , empty hours which are lived through during the great holidays in scholastic institutes and other private institutions for females , when all the friends have dispersed , when there is much leisure and much indolence , and a radiant , agreeable tedium reigns the whole day . In only their petticoats and white shifts , with bare arms , sometimes barefooted , the women aimlessly ramble from room to room , all of them unwashed , uncombed ; lazily strike the keys of the old pianoforte with the index finger , lazily lay out cards to tell their fortune , lazily exchange curses , and with a languishing irritation await the evening .