... the barge-bridge was. When she had followed me on to the embankment, I walked up one of those rising streets, very encumbered now with stone-debris and ashes, but still marked by some standing black wall-fragments, it being now not far from night, but the air as clear and washed as the translucency of a great purple diamond with the rain and the afterglow of the sun, ... — The Purple Cloud • M.P. Shiel
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