Two South-American boys, about twelve years old, had stayed on and heroically assisted the Head at his charitable work. Dr. Goffin was not allowed to take anybody with him except these two children in his search for the wounded, and to bury the dead. It is scarcely credible how courageously these boys of such tender age behaved. Later the Chilean ambassador made inquiries about them and asked for their portraits.
I also met there a compatriot, who had got permission to go to The Netherlands, but declined to leave. She was Mrs. de Villers, née Borret. On August 27th I wrote about her to De Tijd:—
"Four days ago her husband was buried. As he was addressing the League of Old-Retraitants at Cherath he was seized by a paralytic stroke, which proved fatal. She has no longer a home, beautiful Villa Rustica being completely burnt out, and now in ruins. But she refuses to return to The Netherlands, as she is still able to be of service to the people here.
"In Cherath she saved the life of a good many. As it was alleged that there had been shooting, the priest, the chaplain, a retired priest, eighty years old, the mayor, and several leading citizens were condemned to be shot. None, not even the priest, was able to defend himself, as they knew not a word of German, and could not make themselves understood. Mrs. de Villers, who speaks German fluently, explained that the spot where the shooting was alleged to have taken place was not part of Cherath at all.
"So this brave lady succeeded in getting the sentence of death withdrawn. But the Germans wanted to torture their wretched prisoners on any or no plea. They were placed near the church wall, kept standing there all night, were told that they would be shot by and by, and threatened by the soldiers with their bayonets.
"In the morning sixty soldiers escorted them out of the village to the hamlet Wandre, where the populace was told they would be shot. Should one shot be fired by one of the inhabitants—thus Mrs. de Villers was told—the prisoners would be shot out of hand; if not, they would be released at Wandre. Mrs. de Villers had, of course, secretly warned the inhabitants in time.
"She hopes to be able to render further services to the populace, thanks to her knowledge of German, and stays on, occupying her time with charitable work. A respectful salute is due to this courageous compatriot."
On the same day I wrote as follows about Dr. Goffin:—
"His face, unshaven since ever so long, is quite emaciated, and presents all the symptoms of nervous exhaustion. Once more twenty German soldiers are being nursed in his college, where only once a German doctor came to see them. He (Dr. Goffin) and a couple of Sisters have to manage everything by themselves, and the Germans do not even dream of providing food for their own wounded, although the college is so inadequately provisioned that the Head and the Sisters have to deny themselves the necessary nourishment that they may feed the wounded.
"And how are they thanked for it?
"The Reverend Head has been notified already ten times that he would be shot, and he is frequently being arrested for alleged shooting from the building. This shooting is actually done by German soldiers alone, who are loafing and looting, as I myself noticed a short time ago. The Head took me to a room where an old man of ninety, who had just received the extreme unction, lay dying. By his side sat a broken-hearted little old woman, his wife. This old man had been taken prisoner with other men of Visé, and forced to work at a new bridge. The poor fellow broke down under the strain; it cost him his life."
I left burning Visé deeply impressed by the savage scenes I had witnessed: men turned into beasts by drink, passion, and anger, doing all manner of wrong to the wretched inhabitants; but the impression became deeper by the great contrast: the perfect, charitable devotion of a virtuous priest, a courageous lady, and ever kind and commiserate Sisters. Never have I experienced so many emotions in one day as at Visé.
After taking warm leave of the Head of St. Hadelin College, I continued my walk to the Netherland frontier.
I was scarcely outside the townlet when I met another little group of refugees, probably all members of one family. The mother was being supported by her daughters, all wept, and nervous exhaustion made them totter as they walked. Every moment the mother looked back pitifully at the conflagration which devoured all around, including her slender property, for which she had worked so many years.
From the other side came two soldiers, one of whom she recognised, as he had been billeted on her. Constantly weeping, her face distorted, she sent another glance towards that fiery blaze, looked at the soldier as if reprovingly, hesitated a moment, but then pressed the enemy's hand, sobbing: "Adieu!—adieu!"