Detached fires were burning at many places, and a great pyramid of flame leaped up from a point where the Hotel de l'Europe stood.

The cathedral alone, as if by some singular chance, seemed to be untouched.

The lofty Gothic spire shot up in the silver moonlight, and towered white and peaceful over fighting Gaul and Teuton.
John looked up at it more than once, as he fired a rifle, that he had picked up, down the street at the fleeting shadows.
He was filled with an unreasoning rage.

He did not hate any one of the Germans who were fighting on the other side of Chastel, but the anger that seized him when he found Julie missing was still heavy upon him.
Before, whenever he had fired at an enemy he had usually felt a secret hope that the bullet would miss, but now he prayed that every one would hit.

Bougainville pulled him down.