nine o'clock
A shot having been fired from an upper window of a house on the corner , he saw Chouteau and his gang , with their petroleum and their lighted torch , rush with frantic speed to the buildings on either side and climb the stairs , and half an hour later , in the increasing darkness , the entire square was in flames , while he , still prone on the ground behind his shelter , availed himself of the vivid light to pick off any venturesome soldier who stepped from his protecting doorway into the narrow street . How long did Maurice keep on firing ? He could not tell ; he had lost all consciousness of time and place . It might be nine o'clock , or ten , perhaps . He continued to load and fire ; his condition of hopelessness and gloom was pitiable ; death seemed to him long in coming . The detestable work he was engaged in gave him now a sensation of nausea , as the fumes of the wine he has drunk rise and nauseate the drunkard . An intense heat began to beat on him from the houses that were burning on every side -- an air that scorched and asphyxiated .