The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin was shrouded in darkness, except for the faint light of the moon that shone through the woolly clouds, casting a pale light as dawn approached on the dark streets and waters of the Liffey. Around the besieged Four Courts, heavy cannons roared. Here and there, across the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, in fits and starts, like dogs barking on isolated farms. The Republicans and Free States were fighting a civil war. On a rooftop near the O'Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper watched. Next to him was his rifle and, on his shoulders, a pair of binoculars. His face was that of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold glare of a fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man accustomed to looking at death. He was eating a sandwich with hunger. He hadn't eaten anything since the morning. He was too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich and, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket, he took a short drink. Then he put the bottle back in his pocket. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should risk smoking. It was dangerous. The flash could be seen in the darkness and enemies were watching it. He decided to take the risk. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, hastily inhaled the smoke and turned out the light. Almost immediately, a ball flattened against the roof parapet. The sniper took another breath and put out the cigarette. Then he cursed softly and crawled to the left. Carefully, he stood up and looked over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He fell immediately. He had seen the flash. He was coming from across the street. He rolled over the roof to a chimney at the back and slowly hoisted himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to see – just the blurred outline of the roof of the opposite house against the blue sky. His enemy was in cover. At that moment, an armored car crossed the bridge and moved slowly down the street. He stopped on the other side of the street, fifty meters away. The sniper could hear the dull gasp of the engine. His heart was beating faster.