On the high ground rose the broken spires of the Church of St.Pierre and the Hotel de Ville, and descending like steps were row beneath row of houses, roofless, with windows like blind eyes.

The fire had reached the last row of houses, those on the Boulevard de Jodigne.

Some of these were already cold, but others sent up steady, straight columns of flame.

In others at the third and fourth stories the window curtains still hung, flowers still filled the window-boxes, while on the first floor the torch had just passed and the flames were leaping.

Fire had destroyed the electric plant, but at times the flames made the station so light that you could see the second-hand of your watch, and again all was darkness, lit only by candles.
You could tell when an officer passed by the electric torch he carried strapped to his chest.