But the citizens of Brussels acted otherwise. In spite of their fear and trembling they assembled in vast, silent throngs. Curiosity had got the better of their national pride. Those who had good reason to doubt the plighted word of a Prussian took courage at the high-spirited yet conciliatory proclamation of the debonair M. Max, the burgomaster:
"As long as I live, or am a free agent, I shall endeavour to protect the rights and dignity of my fellow-citizens. I pray you, therefore, to make my task easier by refraining from all acts of hostility against the German soldiery. Citizens, befall what may, listen to your burgomaster. He will not betray you. Long live Belgium, free and independent! Long live Brussels!"
Accordingly the citizens, amongst whom were few able-bodied men, assembled in crowds ten or twelve deep along the principal thoroughfares. Amongst them was Kenneth Everest, who, in his civilian garb, attracted no attention from those who stood near him. Since a dignified silence seemed to brood over the humiliated Belgians, Kenneth had no occasion to speak, and thus disclose his nationality. He knew, by reports from his hostess, that there were spies innumerable mingled with the throng; but he was unaware that he was already marked for denunciation to the German authorities as soon as the Prussian rule was established in Belgium's capital.
Presently a wave of dull expectancy swept through the heavy-hearted populace. It was now early in the afternoon. From the south-east and east came the faint discord of military bands playing one against the other. Louder and louder grew the noise, till the strident tones of "Deutschland über Alles", played by the leading regimental band, drowned the chaotic blare of the next.
Craning his neck in order to obtain a clear view through the forest of dripping umbrellas—for the rain was now falling steadily—Kenneth could discern the head of the procession—a general, swarthy and heavy jowled, who scowled under his heavy eyebrows at the crowd as he rode by. He was the personification of German brute force, a stiffly-rigid figure in grey. He reminded Kenneth of a cast-iron equestrian statue smothered in grey paint.
In close formation came the various regiments of the invaders, men whose fresh uniforms and faultless equipment gave the appearance of troops straight from their regimental depots rather than war-worn veterans. And this, in fact, was the case. The men who had learned to respect the courage and determination of the hitherto despised Belgian troops had not been permitted to engage in the triumphal pageant through the surrendered city. Others of the almost innumerable Teutonic legions had been sent forward to impress the remaining inhabitants of Brussels.
Suddenly a guttural order rang out. As one man the grey-clad ranks broke into the machine-like goose-step. Possibly this spectacular display was meant to seal the impression upon the onlookers. If so, those responsible for the order were grievously mistaken. Regarding the action as one of insulting triumph, the Belgians strengthened their resolutions to impress on their absent troops the necessity of resisting to the last cartridge.
With the troops came large transport sections, motor machine-guns, batteries, and siege-trains. During that memorable afternoon nearly fifty thousand German troops poured into the city. They were resolved to hold and bleed the luckless citizens to the last gold piece—an indemnity for non-resistance.
"So they're here?" asked Rollo of his companion upon the latter's return. "I heard the din and the terrific discord of their brass bands. Have they done any damage?"
"Not as far as I could see. It is too early to come to any conclusion. At any rate, we'll lie low for a few days. I don't suppose they'll trouble us. How's the ankle?"