noon
Duchemin woke up in his bed , glare of sunlight in his eyes . From the latter circumstance he reckoned , rather groggily , it must be about the middle of the forenoon ; for not till about that time did the sun work round to the windows . Still heavy with lees of slumber , his wits occupied themselves sluggishly with questions concerning the enervation that oppressed him , the reason for his oversleeping , why he had not been called . Then , reminded that noon was the hour set for Eve 's departure , fear lest she get away without his bon voyage brought him sharply up in a sitting position . He groaned aloud and with both hands clutched temples that promised to split with pain that crashed between them , stroke upon stroke , like blows of a mighty hammer . A neatly fastened bandage held in place , above one ear , a wad of cotton once saturated with arnica , now dry . Duchemin removed these and with gingerly fingers explored , discovering a noble swelling on the side of his head , where the cotton had been placed .