I have been writing by the light of matches, under a coat. Now the stir of wind before the dawn has passed. A few dogs are barking. And a shout or two tells of the Civil Guard changing their watchmen. I can see to write in the grey dawn. Beyond my feet, out there on the hills, brain and sinew are again alert, and plotting cunningly to kill. How much of hope and life and promise may have ended in darkness before the next night covers this sudden glow of sun? The uncertain outlines of the Waterloo monuments, commemorating heroic deeds of the past, in the grey half light have a sinister look. How soon will the sordid squalor of these new fights be in its turn converted into such memorials, to entrap new generations into dreaming that there is glory in war? CHAPTER VI The Last of Brussels. The Flight, and the Flood Thursday saw the ending of doubt. Although we did not know it, the floodgates were already opening; the Belgian army was retiring upon Antwerp, fighting only a gallant rearguard action at Louvain. The French advanced force, with its tentative claw outstretched towards Louvain, was beginning to wheel back rapidly to avoid leaving its flank exposed. Brussels was uncovered; and through the opening between the armies the torrent of grey troops was beginning to pour. With the first light we made a circle towards Sombreffe, and came upon some retiring French cavalry. It was a puzzling spectacle, as at Waterloo we had not yet heard of the rapid change in the situation. Thursday, Wavre. It should have been a quiet day. A quiet wandering through picturesque lanes, well behind the supposed fighting lines of the armies. Running up and down the wooded, sunny lanes, on the stone setts, we even came as a relief to the bored peasant guards, lounging in their blue blouses, under straw shelters. At one remote village, high placed and only seemingly attainable by cobbled steep lanes, the Burgomaster made a solemn procession down the steps, with all the civic dignitaries, to meet us. They may have been waiting in session for a passer-by since the war began! So we came down to Wavre; a short time ago filled with troops, now only empty, with an uneasy crowd at the corners, and a shifting swarm at the Mayoralty. We passed cheerfully out on the big, shaded road to Namur, confident of good passage.