an icy wind swept down from the heights, cutting the fog into shreds. for an instant, with an evil leer the sun peered through the bare woods of vincennes, sank like a blood-clot in the battery smoke, lower, lower, into the blood soaked plain.

a black cloud hung over the fortifications. from horizon to horizon the canon smoke stretched in wavering bands, now capping the spires and domes with cloud, now blowing in streamers and shreds along the streets, now descending from the housetops, enveloping quays, bridges, and river in a sulphurous mist.