The very walls of the high white houses, the very flags of the stony grey streets seem to know that Antwerp has fallen victim to a tragic fate; her men, women, and children must desert her; her homes must stand silent, cold and lonely, waiting for the enemy; her great hotels must be emptied; her shops and factories must put up their shutters; all the bright, gay, cheerful, optimistic life of this city that I have grown to love with an indescribable tenderness during the long weeks that I have spent within her fortified area is darkened now with despair.
Of the ultimate arrival of the Germans there is no longer any doubt, whether they take the town on a surrender, or by bombardment, or by assault.
I put on my hat and gloves, and go out into the streets. Oh, God! What a golden day!
Unbearable is the glitter of this sunlight shining over the agony of a nation!
CHAPTER XXXIV
I DECIDE TO STAY
For the moment the bombardment has ceased entirely. These little pauses are almost quaint in their preciseness.
One can count on them quite confidently not to be broken by stray shells.
And in the pause I am rushing along the Avenue de Commerce, trying to get round to the hotel where all my belongings are, when I run into three Englishmen with their arms full of bags, and overcoats, and umbrellas, and for a moment or two we stand there at the corner opposite the Gare Central all talking together breathlessly.