recollections of the last morning spent in Louvain is a huge sight-
seeing car--of the sort known at home as a rubberneck wagon--which
lumbered by us with Red Cross men perched like roosting gray birds on
all its seats. We estimated we saw two hundred thousand men in motion
through the ancient town. We learned afterward we had under-figured the
total by at least a third.

During these days the life of Louvain went on, so far as our alien eyes
could judge, pretty much as it probably did in the peace times
preceding. At night, obeying an order, the people stayed within their
doors; in the daylight hours they pursued their customary business, not
greatly incommoded apparently by the presence of the conqueror. If
there was simmering hate in the hearts of the men and women of Louvain
it did not betray itself in their sobered faces. I saw a soldier,
somewhat fuddled, seize a serving maid about the waist and kiss her; he
received a slap in the face and fell back in bad order, while his mates
cheered the spunky girl. A minute later she emerged from the house to
which she had retreated, seemingly ready to swap slaps for kisses some
more.

However, from time to time sinister suggestions did obtrude themselves
on us. For example, on the second morning of our enforced stay at the
House of the Thousand Columns we watched a double file of soldiers going
through a street toward the Palais de Justice. Two roughly clad natives
walked between the lines of bared bayonets. One was an old man who
walked proudly with his head erect. He was like a man going to a feast.
The other was bent almost double, and his hands were tied behind his
back.

A few minutes afterward a barred yellow van, under escort, came through