The Count of Monte Cristo

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at half-past six. He then said, "It is time to start; the signature was
indeed fixed to take place at nine o'clock, but perhaps Valentine will
not wait for that." Consequently, Morrel, having left the Rue Meslay
at half-past eight by his timepiece, entered the clover-field while
the clock of Saint-Phillippe du Roule was striking eight. The horse and
cabriolet were concealed behind a small ruin, where Morrel had often
waited.

The night gradually drew on, and the foliage in the garden assumed a
deeper hue. Then Morrel came out from his hiding-place with a beating
heart, and looked through the small opening in the gate; there was yet
no one to be seen. The clock struck half-past eight, and still another
half-hour was passed in waiting, while Morrel walked to and fro, and
gazed more and more frequently through the opening. The garden became
darker still, but in the darkness he looked in vain for the white dress,
and in the silence he vainly listened for the sound of footsteps. The
house, which was discernible through the trees, remained in darkness,