Energy books

Our own footsteps were the noisiest sounds as we stumbled over the
broken stones. No other footstep paced down any of those streets of
shattered houses through which we wandered with tightened nerves.
There was no movement among all those rubbish heaps of fallen masonry
and twisted iron. We were in the loneliness of a sepulcher which had
been once a fair city.
For a little while my friend and I stood in the Grande Place, not
speaking. In the deepening twilight, beneath the last flame-feathers
of the sinking sun and the first stars that glimmered in a pale sky,
the frightful beauty of the ruins put a spell upon us.
The tower of the cathedral rose high above the framework of broken
arches and single pillars, like a white rock which had been split from
end to end by a thunderbolt. A recent shell had torn out a slice so
that the top of the tower was supported only upon broken buttresses,
and the great pile was hollowed out like a decayed tooth. The Cloth
Hall was but a skeleton in stone, with immense gaunt ribs about the
dead carcass of its former majesty.


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