The view from here was perfect. The sun had risen and was shining brightly. Directly below lay the ruined Legations, with their rude fortifications and thousands of surrounding native houses levelled flat to the ground; but beyond, for many miles, stretched the vast city of Peking, dead silent, excepting for these now accustomed sounds of war, and half hidden by myriads of trees, which did not allow one to see clearly what was taking place. The Palace, with its immense walls, its yellow roofs, and its vast open places, lay mysteriously quiet, too, while this punishment was meted out on it. You could not understand what was going on. To the very far north a heavy cloud, which had already attracted my attention, now rose blacker and blacker, until it spread like a pall on the bright sky. Cossacks or Japanese, who by this time had swept over the entire ground, must have met with resistance; they were burning and sacking, and a huge conflagration had been started. For a quarter of an hour and more I watched in an idle, tired curiosity, which I could not explain, those little French shells bursting far away and falling short, and presently, as I expected, the inevitable happened. A young American officer rode up and began shouting angrily up to the Wall. I knew exactly what he meant, but everybody was so interested that he remained unnoticed. And so, presently, more furious than ever, he dismounted and rushed up red with rage. He Was so angry that he was funny. He wanted to know if the commander of these d---- pop-guns knew what he was firing at, and whether he could not see the United States army in full occupation of the bombarded points. He swore and he cursed and he gesticulated, until finally cease fire was sounded and the guns were ordered down. All the Frenchmen were furious, and I saw P----, the Minster, go down in company with the gaunt-looking Spanish _doyen_, vowing vengeance and declaiming loudly that if they were stopped everybody must be stopped too. There must be no favouring; that they would not have. I understood, then, why the mountain guns had come so quickly into action; they were gaining time for that exhausted colonial infantry to get round to some convenient spot and begin a separate attack. It was each one for himself. Somehow I understood now that it was a useless time for ceremony, and that one must act just as one wished. So, finding some ponies tethered to a post below, without a word I mounted one and rode rapidly back to the Palace. For an instant, as I passed the great Ch'ien Men Gate, I could see Indian troops filing out in their hundreds, and forcing a path through the press of incoming transport and guns. Evidently the British commanders considered that the thing was over; that it was no use going on. Already they had had enough of our Peking methods....