"But why do you fear being split up, as you say?" inquired the Englishman.
"Because," answered Philippe, "on one side of us is France, a republic; on the other side is Germany, also a republic. We Belgians are very close to both these countries because of many things. We are like them in many ways and we trade with them. We fear that without our King to hold us together we might become part of these countries. And we are very patriotic. We never want to be anything but Belgian!"
The little fellow stood and saluted the flag, which was flying from the palace.
"See! The flag!" said Philippe, pointing to the red, yellow, and black colors fluttering in the breeze. "I can tell you about that, also, if you would like me to do so."
"Certainly," replied the Englishman. Then he turned to his friend, the American, and said, "The little chap is just full of stories."
"That may be," replied the friend, "but I do not understand a word. It all sounds like Chinese to me!"
"Wait," laughed the Englishman. "I shall translate them to you later."
So Philippe told about his flag.
"The black in the flag is the King's color," said he. "It stands for constancy, wisdom, and prudence. The yellow stands for law and order. And red is for Belgium's liberty, fought for and obtained by the blood of her soldiers."