midnight
Therefore has she always felt a thrilling interest in all that appertains to the Count de Rohan ; therefore has she mourned him with many a secret tear and many a hidden pang ; therefore has she loved and cherished and watched over his child as though he had been her own , exhausting all her skill and all her superstition to prognosticate for him a happy future -- to ward off from him the evil that she reads too surely in the stars will be his lot . Once she has warned him -- twice she has warned him -- will the third time be too late ? She shudders to think how she has neglected him . To-morrow -- nay , to-day -LRB- for it is long past midnight -RRB- , is the anniversary of his birth , the festival of St. Hubert , and she would have passed it over unnoticed , would have forgotten it , but for last night 's dream . The coming morning strikes chill to her very marrow as she thinks what a strange , wild , eerie dream it was . She dreamed that she was sitting by the Danube ; far , far away down yonder , where its broad yellow flood , washing the flat , fertile shores of Moldavia , sweeps onward to the Black Sea , calm , strong , and not to be stemmed by mortal hand , like the stream of Time -- like the course of destiny . Strange voices whispered in her ears , mingled with the plash and ripple of the mighty river ; voices that she could not recognise , yet of which she felt an uncomfortable consciousness that she had heard them before .