seven o’clock
At a turn of the road M. Flamaran suddenly pulled up , looked all around him , and drew a deep breath . `` Hallo , Jupille ! My good sir , where are you taking us ? If I can believe my eyes , this is the Chestnut Knoll , down yonder is Plessis Piquet , and we are two miles from the station and the seven o'clock train ! '' There was no denying it . A donkey emerged from the wood , hung with tassels and bells , carrying in its panniers two little girls , whose parents toiled behind , goad in hand . The woods had become shrubberies , through which peeped the thatched roofs of rustic summerhouses , mazes , artificial waterfalls , grottoes , and ruins ; all the dread handiwork of the rustic decorator burst , superabundant , upon our sight , with shy odors of beer and cooking .