But I now discovered that Jean had a thoughtful mood upon him, and did not want to talk. He wanted to think. He told me so.
He said, "It is necessary that I think out many little things now! Pardon!"
And he tapped his brow.
So I left him to it!
Along the white sun-bathed road, as we drove, we met a continual procession of carts, waggons, fiacres, and vehicles of all shapes, kinds, and descriptions, full of peasants or bourgeoisie, all travelling in the direction of Ghent. Every now and then a private motor car would flash past us, flying the red, white and blue flag of Holland, or the Stars and Stripes of America. They had an almost impudent insouciance with them, those lucky neutral motor cars, as they rushed along the sunny Brabant road to Brussels, joyously confident that there would be no trouble for them if they met the Germans!
How I envied them! How I longed to be able by some magic to prove myself American or Dutch!
Every ten minutes or so we used to shout to people on the road, coming from the opposite direction.
"Il y a des Allemands?" or
"Il y a de danger?"
The answer would come back: