four o'clock
His chair was near his desk ; he let himself fall into it and remained there prostrated , holding the letter in his shaking hand . `` Alone ! '' It was an October afternoon , dark and muddy ; in the Rue des Saints-Peres , in front of the houses that hide the Charity Hospital , coupes were standing , and their long line extended to the Boulevard Saint-Germain , where the coachmen , having left their seats , talked together like persons who were accustomed to meet each other . At half-past four o'clock , in the deepening twilight , men with grave looks and dark clothes -- members of the Academy of Medicine -- the Tuesday sitting over , issued from the porch , and entered their carriages . Some of them walked alone , briskly , in a great hurry ; others demonstrated a skilful tardiness , stopping to talk politely to a journalist , and to give him notes of the day 's meeting , or continuing , with a ` confrere ' who was not an Academician , the conversation begun in the room of the ` pas-perdus ' ; it was the Bourse of consultations that was just closed . Not all the members of the Academy have , in truth , a long list of patients to visit ; but each one has a vote to give , and they are those whom the candidates surround , trying to win them . One of the Academicians who appeared the last at the top of the steps was a man of great height but bent figure , with hollow cheeks and pale face lighted by pale blue eyes with a strange expression , both hard and desolate at the same time .