"Yes, they've come, only they didn't do any harm.... They hadn't the time. Five or six of them came down from the woods up there—cavalrymen. But they went back almost at once. Some of the villagers saw them. There were also some French cavalry here, in blue and red uniforms."
"Chasseurs?"
"I suppose so. They are so nice and polite.... At first, as there weren't many of them, we almost quarrelled as to who should have them. When the Uhlans came out of the woods they saw the French and went in again."
"And the Belgian soldiers?"
"Not seen any of them," said the old lady. "But my granddaughter saw some at Arlon last year."
"Yes," chimed in the girl, "and they are better dressed than you."
We prepared to make ourselves comfortable in the chairs which had been brought out for us, and chatted while waiting for the order to advance.
"You ought to be very grateful to us," said the grandmother. "We stopped them, and they hadn't reckoned on that! They thought we were sheep and found we were lions—yes, lions! They even say so themselves!"
We willingly acquiesced.
In future we shall always be able to count upon the goodwill of the Belgians, for we owe them a debt of gratitude. That is no more solid basis for affection than that which underlies the feelings of a benefactor towards his protégé. Nothing is more soothing to the spirit than a sense of superiority and legitimate pride.