nine o'clock
It was good to stand in the sunshine which seemed to draw forth all the vagaries and weariness of sleep from the mind and body . Hans Grumbach shook himself gratefully . He was standing on the curb in front of the Grand Hotel , his back to the sun . It was nine o'clock . The broad König Strasse shone , the white stone of the palaces glared , the fountains glistened , and the coloring tree tops scintillated like the head-dress of an Indian prince . Hans was short but strongly built ; a mild blue-eyed German , smooth-faced , ruddy-cheeked , white-haired , with a brown button of a nose . He drank his beer with the best of them , but it never got so far as his nose save from the outside .