The Burgomaster’s study, a large and very comfortably furnished room on the first floor of the house, used partly as an office, and partly as a horticultural laboratory. Leather easy-chairs, a glass book-case. A large table laden with papers and with vases, dishes and baskets full of flowers and fruit: orchids, peaches, plums and magnificent bunches of grapes. In the various corners, a grandfather’s clock, garden-tools, pulverizers, retorts, test-tubes, bee-hives, etc. At the back, a French window opening on a balcony. On the right a heavy door.

As the Curtain rises, the Municipal Secretary is writing at a corner of the table. Enter, on the right, Jean Gilson. He is dressed in ill-fitting peasant’s clothes, and carries his arm in a sling.

Good-morning, Mr. Secretary.

Good-morning. What can I do for you?

(Going nearer.) Don’t you know me, old friend?

Why, it’s you, Jean! The last man I expected to see! Where have you come from? I say, you’re wounded!

Yes, a bullet in the arm.... I got it outside Aerschot. They put me into hospital at Winkel, but the Germans entered the town yesterday and, as I could walk, I didn’t wait for them to take me prisoner. I got into these clothes, cleared out, spent part of the night in a ditch, tramped three hours across country and here I am at Stilemonde. I must be off at once, though, and try and catch up my carabineers, who ought to be somewhere near Overloop.

You look tired. Does the arm hurt? And you’re soaked through!

Yes. The arm’s not much, or rather it wasn’t. To-day, somehow, I seem to feel it more.

That’s because you’re tired. You must rest a little and have your wound seen to. We’ll find you a bed somewhere, either at my place or here, which is God’s own house.

It’s not a question of resting, it’s not a question of bed; they’ll be here before the morning’s over.

Who?

The Germans! There are Uhlans everywhere along the roads; and I expect the main body isn’t far behind.

Impossible! We’ve heard nothing of that here; but of course the communications have all been cut.

Where’s the Burgomaster?

I’m waiting for him. He’s in one of the glass-houses. The storm last night seems to have done some damage. He’ll be here in a minute: the man has gone to find him. Would you like to speak to him?

I’ve a message from the Burgomaster of Winkel, advising him to be very careful and, above all, to see that no arms are found in the town.

We’ve seen to all that; we’ve done everything. All the arms, even the trophies and curios, have been put away in the Town-hall and locked up in a room of which I’ve got the key.... So they’re at Winkel, are they?

Yes, three or four hundred. I was told that the master’s son-in-law was at the head of them.

The master? Who?

Yours, the Burgomaster of Stilemonde.

Otto Hilmer? Impossible!

Yes, that was the name: Lieutenant Hilmer. So it’s true then? I wouldn’t believe it. Did the Burgomaster’s daughter marry a German?

Of course she did; why not? We were not very fond of the Germans here; but, after all, they did us no harm; on the contrary.... It was before the war, when nobody thought of these things. As luck would have it, poor Madame van Belle, the master’s wife, died a year before the wedding. It would never have happened had she been alive, for she loathed the Prussians; and if she could see what they are doing to-day! But what a blow it will be to the master! Is Lieutenant Otto likely to be coming here?

Sure to. At least, so he told the Burgomaster at Winkel.... But how did that marriage come about?

In the most natural way. How was one to know that some fine day the Germans would come and massacre us and do all the dreadful things that people are talking about ... if they’re true?

They’re true enough; and what you’ve heard isn’t the worst.

Dreadful! But who could have thought it!... You see, Monsieur van Belle, our Burgomaster, went to Germany now and again on business. They made a great fuss of him there and treated him royally. At Cologne they made him the president of all the local horticultural societies. He had known the Hilmer family a long time and used to stay with Otto’s parents whenever he went to Cologne.

Are they well off, the Hil—what did you say the name was?

The Hilmers. They’ve got a factory in the Rhine Province: electrical machinery; it’s the biggest factory in the place. Well, young Hilmer, who’s now Lieutenant Otto, wanted to learn about cultivation of orchids and hot-house grapes, which happens to be the specialty of Van Belle and Co. And Monsieur van Belle’s son was keen on electricity only. So they paired off: young Van Belle went to Cologne and Otto came here.

How long ago was that?

Nearly two years.

And where is young Van Belle now?

He was at Cologne when war was declared; but there’s a rumour that he managed to escape. We’ve heard nothing definite, though, and are very uneasy.

And the other? How did he get back to Germany?

I don’t know. He must have got wind of it somehow. He left us suddenly, at the end of July, gave out that his mother was ill.

That shows again that they knew what was going to happen and were preparing for it. And, as he had been warned, he might at least have done the same by his father-in-law and still more by his wife’s brother.

You see, those people aren’t like us.

Or rather we’re not like them, thank Heaven!... Have they been married long?

Close on six months.

Are they happy?

They worshipped each other. And one’s got to be fair. Otto is a very pleasant, good-hearted fellow, very kind, and liked doing people a good turn. Worked very hard. Polite to everybody. Clever too, very. Nothing really to be said against him.

Except that he’s a German; and that’s quite enough.... And how does his wife take it all?

She’s very much upset, of course; and that’s bad, because, as I hear, she is at this moment—you understand. However, it’s not certain yet.... She is very restless, very depressed, but she doesn’t say anything: she was never one to talk much.

But he must surely have told her, have prepared her?... She must have known what was going on?

I know nothing about that. I’m not in her confidence.

And what does the master say?

He’s dreadfully worried. At first, he was quite bowled over. He simply refused to believe it. Then he was furious, wild, beside himself. But he calmed down after a bit: you see, he was always something of an optimist; and now he’s beginning to think that things will be settled very soon. But here he is.

(Enter the Burgomaster, carrying a basket filled with prize grapes.)

(Rising.) Good-morning, Mr. Burgomaster.

Good-morning, Pierre. How are you?

As well as can be, after working all night.

Is everything settled at the Town-hall?

Yes, Mr. Burgomaster. All the arms have been stored there; I drew up a list myself and gave the receipts.... But let me introduce my old friend Jean Gilson, who’s been wounded at Aerschot. He was in hospital at Winkel when the Germans entered the town yesterday; he managed to escape last night.

(Shaking hands with Gilson.) So you were at Aerschot?

Yes, I was a sergeant in the battalion of carabineers which covered the retreat.

Was it much of a fight?

Yes. Two-thirds of the battalion were killed or wounded. There are always three of them to one of us; and we had no guns. We held our ground as long as we could; then we were obliged to fall back.

You look dreadfully tired and must be starving! Pierre, my dear fellow, why on earth didn’t you...? (He rings.) I’ll tell him myself. (Enter the Footman.) Firmin, bring up some cold meat; bring anything you’ve got downstairs: bread, butter, eggs, cheese. What cold meat is there?

Veal and chicken, sir; ham, tongue.

All right, bring them all. And as to drink.... (To Jean Gilson.) What wine do you like? I’ve a splendid Rudesheimer and an ’82 white port which you won’t quarrel with. Which would you like? (To the Footman.) Look here, bring both, that’s simpler. (To Jean Gilson.) You can manage a couple of bottles, I dare say. If necessary we’ll lend you a hand, eh, Mr. Secretary? It will be so much less left for the Germans. There’s fruit enough, as you see. These pears, these plums and peaches are of my own growing; look at the grapes I have just picked; did you ever see anything like them? They’re my special achievement: a variety I got by slowly and patiently crossing the Black Alicante, which is magnificent to look at but hasn’t much flavour, with a Sicilian muscat that’s very small but delicious. I’ve secured what’s best in both of them and kept out what’s bad. Just taste them: aren’t they wonderful? They’re hard and yet they’re juicy; they just melt as you crush them with your teeth. Each one is like a drop of wine with a touch of snow in it. I shall be putting over four thousand pounds of these grapes on the market every week in five years or so. You’ve been the first to have a taste of them.... So they’re at Winkel, are they?

Yes, Mr. Burgomaster; and they’ll be here this morning. I’m just a bit ahead of them.

Jean tells me that they’re led by Mr. Otto, your son-in-law.

What, Otto? Impossible! Were you told that? Did you see him?

I didn’t see him, but that’s what I was told. There were three officers at Winkel, a major and two lieutenants; Otto Hilmer was one. I hear that he said he was coming to occupy Stilemonde with a detachment of the 62nd Foot.

Yes, he was a lieutenant in the reserve. It’s odd that he should have dared.... But no, in point of fact he’s right. He has done the right thing, he will arrange matters and we shall have nothing to fear. All the same, it’s rather extraordinary. My own son-in-law comes into my town as a conqueror, booted and helmeted, with his sword drawn, after violating the frontier of his adopted country.... However, it’s war; and he can’t help it. He’s not responsible and he can’t do what he likes. Besides, it’s all the better for us: as long as he’s here, we’ve nothing to be afraid of.... How are they behaving at Winkel? I hope they haven’t done much harm?

They hadn’t when I left. They took the burgomaster, the priest and the notary as hostages and declared that they would kill them if a single shot was fired in the village.

They won’t do that, thanks to Otto. Otto is a kind-hearted chap, who wouldn’t hurt a soul. Besides, I feel certain that their massacres and atrocities have been greatly exaggerated; after all, they’re not savages.

I beg your pardon, Mr. Burgomaster, there has been no exaggeration at all; on the contrary, we haven’t heard everything yet. What they did at Andenne, at Dinant, at Louvain, at Aerschot and at every town they came to is simply appalling. As for the massacres at Dinant and Louvain, I’ve got that at first hand: two of my men saw it with their own eyes. At Louvain, they executed two hundred and ten innocent people, including twenty-four women and fourteen children; at Dinant, six hundred and six, including thirty-nine children and seventy-one women; at Aerschot, they shot the burgomaster and his son of fifteen, with many other entirely harmless and defenceless citizens.

Then it’s true that there have been military executions? I didn’t believe it.... And what excuse did they make?

Their colonel had been killed by a stray bullet, fired by one of their own men.

The devil! They’re dangerous then! But we must have none of that here. (Enter the Footman.) Here’s Firmin with the tray: sandwiches and the two bottles. (Filling the glasses.) This is my ’95 Rudesheimer. Tell me what you think of it.

(Tasting the wine.) It’s remarkably good.

You’re right. (Exit the Footman.) This is one of a lot of fifty dozen, which I bought at the sale of Von Hulthem the notary, who had the best cellar in these parts.... But what do you mean to do now? You can’t go off like this, you know. You must have a few days’ rest here; and we’ll dress your wound properly; it doesn’t do to trifle with a thing like that.

You see, if they catch me here, they’ll send me to Germany, unless they shoot me as a franc-tireur.

Have no fear of that. I’ll hide you in the house; I’ll tell Otto and he’ll arrange things.

Nothing would suit me better. I’m very tired and I feel I haven’t the strength to go very far. But I’m afraid of compromising you if they find me under your roof.

I assure you, you have nothing to fear. Leave it all to me. Otto can refuse me nothing; and you’ll see, we’ll settle all this among ourselves.

(Enter the Footman.)

They’re at the gate, sir.

Who?

The Germans, sir: some officers and a dozen Uhlans. Shall I let them in?

Certainly, let them in at once. Show the officers up; I’ll wait here. (Exit the Footman.)

Shall I leave you, Mr. Burgomaster?

No, stay. But first see to your friend’s safety. Take him into the next room; then, when Firmin comes back, we’ll find him a bed. Good-bye for the present, Monsieur Gilson. Take the food and wine with you; you have nothing to fear. (Jean Gilson goes into the next room.) And now let us prepare to face the enemy. I hear their swords clattering on the stairs.

(Enter the Footman, with Major Baron von Rochow, Lieutenant Otto Hilmer and Lieutenant Karl von Schaunberg.)

It’s you, Otto! (Mechanically puts out his hand and then withdraws it.)

Yes. (Presenting the Burgomaster to the Major.) Major, this is the Burgomaster of Stilemonde, my father-in-law. Major Baron von Rochow. Lieutenant Karl von Schaunberg.

Mr. Burgomaster, we shall occupy the town until further orders. You will have to find billets for two hundred and fifty men. For the present you will not be called upon to feed them. My two officers and I will ask leave to take up our quarters in your house. I know the ties that unite you to one of them. I hope that, thanks to these good relations, there will be no difficulties between us. Nevertheless, as is customary, considering the bad spirit which the civil population have hitherto displayed and in accordance with the formal instructions which I have received, I am obliged to look upon you as a hostage. If unfortunately—which Heaven forbid—an attempt were made upon the life of one of my officers or men, your own life would answer for it. But we need not, I trust, contemplate any such deplorable contingencies. If the civilians behave properly, they have nothing to fear. Whatever people may say, we are not barbarians. We are, above all things, just; but the necessities of war oblige us to be sometimes severe and always on our guard. In an hour from now I will send for you to the Town-hall to discuss the question of supplies and to fix the war-levy.

The war-levy? I cannot see that, so far, we have done anything to justify a levy.

I beg your pardon. I may permit you to discuss the amount but not the principle.

(To the Burgomaster.) Please give the Major the large bedroom on the first floor, the one with a balcony overlooking the square, and the sitting-room leading into it. Lieutenant von Schaunberg and I will take the other two spare-rooms. Firmin, show the Major and the Lieutenant to their rooms.

I must beg you, Mr. Burgomaster, to put forward your luncheon hour by thirty minutes. We shall have the honour of taking our seats at your table at twelve o’clock precisely.

Certainly, sir.

(Exeunt the Major and Lieutenant von Schaunberg, with the Footman leading the way.)

My poor Otto!

Where is Isabelle?

Upstairs in her room. She can’t have heard you.

How is she? Not ill, I hope?

Not exactly, but dreadfully depressed, extremely tired and very much affected by all these happenings.... I expect she is still asleep; and it is better not to wake her.

How does she take the war?

As we all do, with the utmost amazement, indignation and consternation. But she is naturally more upset than we, who can’t believe our eyes. My poor Otto, this is an ugly business they’ve let you in for!

You need not think that we do it with a light heart. We are acting as you see, only because we are forced and constrained to do so by the incredible attitude of your fellow-countrymen.

Of course it was Belgium that began.

That’s truer than you think. She began by playing the game of our enemies; and, if we had not struck the first blow, we should have been the victims of our confidence in her loyalty.

Look here, Otto, I know you for an intelligent, conscientious and thoroughly honest man. You have lived among us and you know what sort of people we are. How can you stand there and seriously utter such—I don’t know what word to use, or, if I did, it wouldn’t be a pleasant one. Let them tell that sort of humbug to your wretched soldiers, or to a pack of Junkers fuddled with pride and stupidity, but not to a man like yourself! You know the plain, terrible truth as well as I do, just as you know what to think of the hideous massacres at Vise, Andenne, Dinant, Aerschot, Louvain and other places.

Excuse me, it is not the same thing. I admit that the violation of Belgium was a regrettable incident; in my opinion it was a mistake, necessary perhaps, from certain points of view, but one which will cost us dear. But I do not admit the massacres. There have been executions of hostages and reprisals necessitated by incessant acts of treachery committed by the civil population. Here and there, perhaps, there has been some excess of zeal; that, unfortunately, is inevitable. But I know the German army better than you do, because I belong to it; and it is the most highly disciplined army in the world. It is extremely rare, not to say impossible, for the army to act without orders, or to overstep the orders which it receives.

That’s just what I blame it for. To judge by the effects, those orders are execrable!

It’s lucky that we’re alone. Don’t use words like that: with the best will in the world, I might not always be able to save you from the unpleasant consequences.

Very well, we won’t argue about it. We shall never agree on these points nor on a good many others. I know what I know; and I stick to it.

I also know what I know; and history will judge between us.... Let us try rather to get back to the feeling that united us before this cataclysm, for which we are not responsible.

It’s a good thing that you at least do not hold us to be responsible for the disaster which your people have brought on us. I thank you for that.

Why do you say such things to me? I have absolutely nothing to do with what has happened. Like the rest of us, I am compelled to obey an authority which no one can resist. I am a wheel in the machine. I cannot act otherwise than I do. But my feelings, my affections are just the same as they were before the war! I persuaded my superiors to send me here, so that I might prove how grateful I am to you....

And because you know the country so well!

Please don’t continue in that tone: it is not fair and it is extremely painful to me. I simply wished, as I have told you, to prove my gratitude by doing all I could to save you, and the town of which you are the chief authority, from the inconveniences and dangers of an occupation which I was unable to prevent.

Very well, we won’t talk about it. How long do you reckon to stay here with your men?

We don’t know: perhaps two hours, perhaps two months. It all depends on events and on the orders which we receive.

And the Major, what sort of a man is he? He does not look easy to deal with.

He is severe, rather hard, rather dictatorial, rather domineering, a strict disciplinarian, but absolutely just; taken all round, a good sort. I repeat, you have nothing to fear, if your people behave themselves. Besides, in the case of any conflict or misunderstanding, I hope to use my influence and to smooth matters down. And now let us be friends, if you will, and allow me to embrace you as I used to.

(Stepping back.) Forgive me.... Excuse me.... I can’t just now.

That’s strange; I simply can’t understand it. After all, this war is no business of ours; it’s over our heads; it’s beyond us. However, I mustn’t take it ill of you; and I can only say, like Antigone, “I take part in love and not in hatred.” But what’s the time? Eleven o’clock? Perhaps we might let Isabelle know, if she really isn’t ill? You can imagine how eager I am to see her after this long separation and after all that has happened.

I will send the maid up to her. (He rings. Enter the Footman, who takes the Burgomaster’s orders and exit.) Have you any news of my son?

Of Odilon? No, isn’t he here?

No, they did not let us know of their plans, as they did you; we weren’t told what they were going to do; and so he stopped at Cologne. We are rather uneasy about him.

He is in no danger if he keeps quiet. He will be interned in a concentration-camp. I’ll write to my people and ask them to see that he is well treated.... I say, I see on your table one of those Cattleyas which were rather sickly before I left. How are they doing?

I believe they’re saved. I found out under the microscope what it was that was making them wither. It’s a tiny fungus which no orchid-grower had located before and against which all the ordinary methods of vaporizing and fumigation are quite useless. I’ve contrived a new blend; I’ll give you the prescription; it has done wonderfully well so far. I’m worried about my poor hot-houses, on which I’ve spent the best part of my life and nearly half my fortune. If only this war doesn’t turn them into broken glass and scrap-iron! As you know, they contain nearly half a million valuable flowers; and their destruction would be an irretrievable disaster, for it would take a whole lifetime to build up a collection that could compare with mine.

Have no fear, there will be no battle or bombardment in this direction; and while the occupation lasts I shall be able to protect the house of my wife and my father-in-law, or at least to see that it is protected.

Here is Isabelle.

(Enter Isabelle.)

(Pausing for one moment on the threshold and then rushing into Otto’s arms.) You! Is that you? You here; and I did not know!

(Embracing her.) Isabelle!

You’re not wounded? You haven’t been ill?

No; and you? I heard you were not very well.

It’s nothing; it was the horror of everything that has happened and the anxiety of knowing you to be constantly in danger from the enemy....

What enemy? It’s he and his friends that are the enemy; and he runs no danger in the midst of them. But I will leave you to yourselves. Call me when you want me. (Exit.)

It’s true. I no longer know where I am. I call enemies all who wish you ill; and that means all the people I love. It is too much for a woman’s heart to bear. But it is over now, I hope; and the worst is ended.

No, the worst is beginning. But I was sure of you and that you at least would not condemn me unheard.

I condemn the others, but I know that you are no more to blame than I am. Besides, what does it all matter, when I find you the same as you were? But shall I have you with me for a few days? That will be something to set against this awful war!

I have no idea. I may have to go away to-morrow.

Are you in the firing-line?

It’s all firing-line at the moment. We are advancing like a torrent. I did not dare tell your father, but the whole of Belgium is invaded. Antwerp will fall to-morrow and Paris in a week.

And after that?

After that, victory; and we shall settle down here, unless you would rather go with me to Germany.

I shall go where you go.

(Enter Floris.)

Isn’t dad here?

Good-morning, Floris! Come and shake hands.

(Recoiling in horror.) Shake hands with you!

Floris!

Where’s dad?

In the next room. But you might at least be civil and shake hands with Otto, who wishes us no harm and who has come here to protect us.

I don’t want his protection, thank you!

(Exit, slamming the door behind him.)

You see the hatred! Amazing! It’s the same everywhere, all the time, wherever we go. They simply will not listen, they will not understand. I was conscious of its existence even in the heart of your father, who is the best-natured, fairest and most tranquil-minded man I know. What can we do, when they treat us like that?... But we must keep an eye on the boy. So long as he confines his offensive remarks to me, there’s no great harm done, but it would be a bad look out for him if he took it into his head to treat the Major or Lieutenant von Schaunberg in this way, for they are neither of them very patient. (A shot is fired in the distance.) That’s a shot!

Yes, at the bottom of the garden, near the wood.

(Enter hurriedly the Burgomaster and Floris.)

Did you hear? A rifle-shot!

(Between his teeth.) One less.

What do you say?

Nothing. I can say what I like.

(Anxiously.) But who fired the shot? It can only have been one of your men. There’s not a fire-arm left in this house, or anywhere in the town.

It’s probably my brother-officer, Lieutenant von Schaunberg, taking a stroll in the wood. He’s very fond of shooting; and I told him he’d find rabbits there.

Yes, the shot came from that side; but there wasn’t a single gun in the house.

He always carries his own among his kit. In any case, if all the arms are at the Town-hall, you have no cause for alarm. Do you answer for your servants? Are there no disaffected ones among them?

What do you call disaffected? They are irritated, incensed, indignant, exasperated, that’s natural enough; but they know how to restrain themselves and are not such fools as to attempt a useless murder, which would entail the destruction of the town and the death of hundreds of innocent victims, as at Dinant, Andenne, Louvain and Aerschot. I know them; they will be patient and bide their time.

What time?

The time that will come later.

I don’t understand you. Here you are talking like our worst enemies!

Do you expect me to be one of your friends? Would you insult me by numbering me among those who.... But I won’t say what I was going to say, it’s better not.... This incident has unnerved me. For I know that I am responsible and that if any unpleasantness occurs, it will be on my head.

I hear footsteps outside the house. (Going to the balcony-window and opening it.) Is that you, Sergeant Hartung? What is it?

(In the garden below, unseen.) I don’t know, sir. I saw Lieutenant von Schaunberg go that way.

When?

A quarter of an hour ago.

(To the Burgomaster.) It’s what I told you: he has gone shooting in the wood.

Beg pardon, sir, he had no gun with him.

Are you sure? That’s odd. Well, run and see what it is, instead of standing there gaping!

Very good, sir. I was just going when you stopped me. But a lot of my men are there already.

I hear shouts. There’s something I don’t like about this. But here’s one of your men coming back; he’ll tell us what has happened.

Hurry up, there! What was it?

(Also in the garden, unseen.) The Lieutenant? Where’s the Lieutenant?

Here. What’s the matter? Why don’t you speak?

Sir! Lieutenant von Schaunberg! He’s been murdered.

What? Who? Come nearer! What are you saying?

He’s dead.

When? How? Send for a doctor. I’ll come down. Perhaps he’s only wounded.

No, sir, he has a bullet through his head. They found him lying in the bracken.

Have they arrested the murderer?

They’re hunting in the wood. They’ve seen nobody.

(To the Sergeant.) Have sentries posted at all the gates. Quick! quick! Shoot any one at sight who attempts to leave the grounds. He can’t escape. Where’s the Major?

I don’t know, sir.

He’s probably in his room, on the other side of the house. He won’t have heard.

Send and tell him.

This forebodes no good.

Don’t be afraid. The criminal can’t escape; and, when we’ve caught him, he shall serve as an example that will make them think twice before they do it again. Stay here, all of you. Let no one leave the room, or I won’t answer for the consequences. It’s a serious matter, a very serious matter.