than even that fair apparition framed in the window, and I fear I
disappointed de Burgher by my lack of enthusiasm.

My other comrade, Constance Staes, must not be forgotten. For
some infraction of the new military regulations he had been hustled
off to prison, but he, too, was born for liberty, a free-ranging spirit
that fetters could never bind. He made me see the Belgian soul
that would never be subservient to German rule. The Germans
can be overlords in Belgium only when such spirits have either
emigrated or have been totally exterminated.

To Constance Staes every rule was a challenge. That's the reason
he had been put in jail. He had trespassed on forbidden way in
front of the East Station. Here in prison smoking was forbidden. So
Staes, with one eye upon the listless guard, would slip beneath a
blanket, take a pull at his cigarette, and come up again as innocent
as though he had been saying his prayers. I refused the offer of a
pull at his cigarette, but not the morsel of white bread which he
drew from behind a picture and shared with me. That bread,
broken and shared between us in that upper room, is to me an
eternal sacrament. It fed my body hunger then; never shall it
cease to feed the hunger of my soul.

Whenever temptation to play the cynic or think meanly of my
fellow-man shall come, my mind will hark back to those two
unpretending fellows and bow in reverence before the selflessness
and immensity of the human soul. Needing bread, they gave it
freely away; needing strength, they poured themselves out
unsparingly; needing encouragement, they became the ministers
thereof. For not to me alone, but to all, they played this role of