half past four
People were beginning to pass along the broad covered streets intersecting the pavilions , but the more distant buildings still remained deserted amidst the increasing buzz of life on the footways . By Saint Eustache the bakers and wine sellers were taking down their shutters , and the ruddy shops , with their gas lights flaring , showed like gaps of fire in the gloom in which the grey house-fronts were yet steeped . Florent noticed a baker 's shop on the left-hand side of the Rue Montorgueil , replete and golden with its last baking , and fancied he could scent the pleasant smell of the hot bread . It was now half past four . Madame Francois by this time had disposed of nearly all her stock . She had only a few bunches of carrots left when Lacaille once more made his appearance with his sack . `` Well , '' said he , `` will you take a sou now ? ''