The Belgians, however, quickly took them in hand, fitted them out with clean clothes, and at times carried them on their shoulders through the streets, shouting, “_Vive l’Angleterre!_” right under the noses of the Germans. All of those to whom I spoke had been captured at a certain point near Armentières, where, owing to the collapse of an adjacent Portuguese trench, the Germans had got behind them and so cut them off. They were rather bitter regarding the “Pork and Beans,” as they called the Portuguese, and stated with contempt that they had seen some of the latter, after their capitulation, pass into the German lines with hand-satchels, containing their belongings already packed! On Monday, the 18th of November, scarcely two weeks after the first definite gleam of approaching deliverance penetrated the prison city, we realized with a strange, half-incredulous amazement that we were free! The grey uniform had disappeared; those of our deliverers were in view, and the outer world was once more a living reality! It seemed impossible—or rather like awaking abruptly from a hideous dream! No more roaring of cannon beyond the patient, proudly soaring trees of the Bois—where sad gaps bear witness of the vandal’s hand; no more racking thunder of mitrailleuse from the military exercise-field, or droning of German aeroplanes over our heads; no more dread of armed soldiers intruding upon our privacy, or of tyrannical _affiches_ imposing penalties and checking liberty! We could go forth into the free streets without fear of the _polizei_. We could walk by lamplight at night, instead of inky darkness, and take from our windows the ugly blue paper or dark curtains by which the dim light of our houses was hooded. The door-bell could ring without causing panic, without forcing me, and others who plied the pen in secret, to rush off and conceal perilous manuscripts even before knowing who might be at the door. Buried treasures could be unearthed—newspapers read—letters written—we could breathe normally once more! Over four years of persecution, isolation, and association with misery, had led in a few days, as it seemed, to this intoxicating hour of triumph, when not only the victory we craved was attained, but the malignant world-menacing monster, vanquished by the sword of Justice, had, like a wounded scorpion, writhing in its pain, stung itself to death! XVI