six in the morning
For close on a hundred years , generation after generation of those living near its walls have heard the convent clock sound the hours in solemn tones ; so , too , the convent chapel 's shrill-voiced bells have never failed to remind the faithful that the daily offices of their church are being said and sung by the holy sisters within the hallowed walls . In the vast quarter of Paris , peopled with hospitals and prisons , the convent shows a stern front in the shape of a high , blackened wall . A great courtyard gate , in which a window with iron bars and grating is the only visible opening to the exterior world . About half-past six in the morning , slightly out of breath with his rapid walk from the Metropolitan station , Jérôme Fandor rang the convent door bell . The sound could be heard echoing and re-echoing in the vaulted corridors , till it died away in the stony distance . There was a silence : then the iron-barred window was half opened , and Fandor heard a voice asking : `` What do you want , monsieur ? '' `` I wish to speak to Madame the Superior , '' replied Fandor .