From Namur the French remained masters of the west bank, and at Namur the Belgians still possessed an important bridge-head. The Allied forces too held their positions from Namur across the country through Gembloux and Louvain to beyond Diest. But behind this dyke opposed by the Allies the grey-green flood of invasion was steadily rising making ready to burst through, and with apparently irresistible mass and momentum to cover with its devastation the rich fields of Belgium and the fair land of France. On the face of things it looked as though the enemy had been taught caution. In front of the Allied lines stretched a No-man’s Land 10 to 15 miles in breadth. No Germans were met with nearer than Ramillies. In the intervening desolation, amid the hideous squalor of war, occasional terrified peasants, old men or widowed women, fled into hiding places at the distant approach of strangers, friend or foe. Brussels had begun to regain breath. Though theatres, picture-houses, and other places of public entertainment were closed, and the busy traffic of the boulevards had shrunk to a rare and occasional vehicle, the shops, closely shuttered during the first days of the Terror, had reopened, and _cafés_ were thronged with crowds eagerly debating the latest news. When, on Monday, August 17, the Government removed from Brussels to Antwerp, it was realised that grave events were impending. All had been in readiness for removal for some days. At the Palais de Justice the courts and registries were closed and seals placed on the doors. Measures had been taken for the protection of the nation’s priceless art treasures, and to meet all emergencies. The Government issued a reassuring proclamation, exhorting the public to confidence, and expressing the resolve at all costs to safeguard the country’s freedom. Despite the deep anxiety of the moment, the public spirit remained firm. There was no trace either of disorder or of panic.