Saturday dawned cold, gray and shivery. Madame de M., Monsieur le consul hollandais, and I left the chÂteau at eight A. M. I was heartbroken to part from the dear people with whom I had experienced so much and I fancied their eyes looked longingly at the departing automobile. They, too, would have liked to come out into the sunshine of Freedom—how much!

From LiÉge to the frontier sentries stopped us often, but the consul's much-used passport, framed and glassed in like Napoleon's Abdication or the Declaration of Independence, was very convincing. Half an hour's cold drive along the Meuse brought us to VisÉ. On approaching it, we did not dream that we were nearing a town and in truth we were not—only the remains of one, for not a single building was standing. I had thought that LouvignÉ with its one lane was desolate and awful, but here were streets and streets of ashes and crumbled brick—and I seemed to see again the ruins of ancient Troy in Asia Minor, which are not more complete. Someone murmured, "Pompeii." But it is not comparable. The ages have woven about the broken columns of Pompeii a light film of romance and a bit of tender beauty springs up with the tiny, flowering weeds which push their way to the sun between many colored tiles. Here, the tragedy is too new; too crude; too bleeding!

The only living things I saw were a cat scampering down a deserted alley, and one man—half-dazed, looking at what was probably his own ruined home; the only wall to be seen which was, even in part, standing. It must have been an ironmonger's shop, for some black kettles still hung on nails against the stone, and iron stoves in all their bleakness stood up in bold relief on piles of ashes.

When the Germans came to VisÉ the commanding officer called the people together in the market place and harangued them at length, threatening them with dreadful punishments if they did not do so and so. He felt he had to, doubtless, as the town and the surrounding country are well known centers of the firearms industry; the peasants work in their own homes to a large extent and are very expert in the making of delicate weapons and also in their use.

So, when the sturdy Belgians could not digest another single threat, apparently, somebody fired a shot from the crowd which killed the officer while he was speaking. Then followed that frightful slaughter and the firing of the town, the remnants of which we saw to-day. Nobody on earth will ever know who fired the shot, probably, for the soldiers hate their officers and already German bullets have been found in German soldiers.

9 A. M. Over the frontier! Oh, the joy of it—the indescribable relief—the wet-eyed thankfulness! Shall I ever forget it? I did not know until then what depths Tyranny had furrowed into my consciousness. Here were men and women laughing and talking in the streets and people daring to drive in their own carriages, and everybody reading newspapers—I felt as if I would spend my last sou for one.

The day was spent in wandering aimlessly over the old town. The wind was bitterly piercing and a fog hung over the canal but I was not altogether aware of bodily discomfort. My mind, trying to adjust itself to new conditions, was in a haze, staggering back and forth from the consciousness of regained freedom to servitude and from barbarism to freedom again.

At three P. M. the train left for Flushing, where we were to take the boat for Folkestone, England. Just before it pulled out of the station, a friend of Comtesse de M. rushed up to the car window and said, "Madame, must you go? We have just received a dispatch saying that a big boat has been sunk today by a mine near Boulogne." But nothing on earth could have deterred us then.

All through the country of Holland, Dutch soldiers were "preparing" everywhere. We arrived at Flushing at two A. M. and went aboard at once, but not before being well looked over by English commissioners, who examined our foreheads and wrists for German measles. Shall I ever get away from that word?