two o'clock
This was a long , triangular , open space , the most animated and luxurious of the squares of the old town , the one where the cafes , the chemists , all the finest shops were situated . And , among the latter , one showed conspicuously , coloured as it was a lively green , adorned with lofty mirrors , and surmounted by a broad board bearing in gilt letters the inscription : `` Cazaban , Hairdresser '' . M. de Guersaint and Pierre went in , but there was nobody in the salon and they had to wait . A terrible clatter of forks resounded from the adjoining room , an ordinary dining-room transformed into a / table d'hote / , in which some twenty people were having / dejeuner / although it was already two o'clock . The afternoon was progressing , and yet people were still eating from one to the other end of Lourdes . Like every other householder in the town , whatever his religious convictions might be , Cazaban , in the pilgrimage season , let his bedrooms , surrendered his dining-room , end sought refuge in his cellar , where , heaped up with his family , he ate and slept , although this unventilated hole was no more than three yards square . However , the passion for trading and moneymaking carried all before it ; at pilgrimage time the whole population disappeared like that of a conquered city , surrendering even the beds of its women and its children to the pilgrims , seating them at its tables , and supplying them with food .