Then came the day when the terrible news that Liège had fallen sent Brussels into a fever of excitement. Some of Mère Marie’s customers packed up and moved away to Antwerp or Ostend or England, so that Pierrot’s route grew shorter. There seemed to be fear that the Germans might appear at any moment.
“The French!” cried the people in despair. “Where are they?”
When Mère Marie and Henri reached home that day Père Jean was waiting nervously in his uniform, with his rifle and accoutrements ready.
“We have been called to the front,” said he. “The Germans must be kept from Brussels.”
Not much more was said; it was not a time for talking. Père Jean kissed them all, even old Gran’père, and said good-bye, and hurried off down the road. Mère Marie was very brave and did not weep till he had gone. Then she pressed Henri and wee Lisa close to her and sobbed bitterly, which made the children cry, too, and Pierrot, who had not been unharnessed, came dragging his cart and thrust his moist nose among them in sympathy. But Gran’père stood alone by the road, looking toward Brussels, his shoulders squared and his lips closed in a thin line.
Then terrible events took place very rapidly: The Belgians could not hold back the Germans and Père Jean and the rest were forced to fall back to Antwerp. The Gardes de Ville in Brussels advised Mère Marie not to come to town any more, so they said good-bye to the pretty newsgirls and their other friends and tried to explain the matter to Pierrot who complained the next morning because he was not harnessed to his cart.
That is why they were not in town when the news came that Louvain had been destroyed and many peaceful people who were not soldiers at all had been shot. But the news was not long in reaching the dairy farm, and Mère Marie turned very white. Some of their neighbours packed up their belongings and drove away, but Gran’père and Mère Marie did not know where to go, so they stayed at home.
Three Belgian soldiers came and drove off Medard and all the cows except one spotted heifer, and gave Mère Marie a receipt, saying that she would be paid some time. They all knew the Germans would soon be there, so it didn’t matter much; and with only one cow to milk and no trip to make to town there was less work to do. Gran’père, with the help of Mère Marie and Henri and Pierrot, began to harvest such of their small crops as he could.
On August 18th a frightened neighbour brought word that the King had left for Antwerp and that Brussels was in the hands of the Germans.
“Why cannot we go to Antwerp, lieve moeder,” asked Henri, “and be with the King and Père Jean and the soldiers?”