midnight
Camors , who had taken an oath never to get angry , kept it now ; drew from the General 's old cognac a fresh supply of patience , lighted a cigar , and left the room . For a few moments he leaned over the balustrade of the terrace and looked around . The night , clear and beautiful , enveloped in its shadowy veil the widestretching fields , and a solemn stillness , strange to Parisian ears , reigned around him , broken only at intervals by the distant bay of a hound , rising suddenly , and dying into peace again . His eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness , Camors descended the terrace stairs and passed into the old avenue , which was darker and more solemn than a cathedral-aisle at midnight , and thence into an open road into which it led by chance . Strictly speaking , Camors had never , until now , been out of Paris ; for wherever he had previously gone , he had carried its bustle , worldly and artificial life , play , and the races with him ; and the watering-places and the seaside had never shown him true country , or provincial life . It gave him a sensation for the first time ; but the sensation was an odious one . As he advanced up this silent road , without houses or lights , it seemed to him he was wandering amid the desolation of some lunar region .