seven o'clock
At five o'clock in the afternoon Lucien was still sleeping , cradled in this voluptuous paradise . He had caught glimpses of Coralie 's chamber , an exquisite creation of luxury , a world of rose-color and white . He had admired Florine 's apartments , but this surpassed them in its dainty refinement . Coralie had already risen ; for if she was to play her part as the Andalusian , she must be at the theatre by seven o'clock . Yet she had returned to gaze at the unconscious poet , lulled to sleep in bliss ; she could not drink too deeply of this love that rose to rapture , drawing close the bond between the heart and the senses , to steep both in ecstasy . For in that apotheosis of human passion , which of those that were twain on earth that they might know bliss to the full creates one soul to rise to love in heaven , lay Coralie 's justification . Who , moreover , would not have found excuse in Lucien 's more than human beauty ?