Suddenly a still louder sound shocked these cries to a brief silence. The echoing report of cannon, already set up at advantageous points in the city, told that the visitor had been espied by less loving eyes. However, he seemed to know that nothing could reach him at that particular point. At any rate, he never wavered, and while the cannon roared, and cries rose again, now in frantic applause of his courage, he hovered as before, quietly winging in a circle above the darkening capital, seeming, by easy and fearless movement, to express sympathy and encouragement. When light deepened and lamps began to flare in the sombre streets, the air-craft, whose driver evidently realized he would soon be invisible, turned with a wide sweep and, heading southward, flew off into the violet mist of distance, dying into a mere speck still passionately watched by yearning eyes from that sea of upturned faces. Later on these aerial visits became frequent; but this one, the first sign we had had since the occupation from the outside world, made a lasting impression. It was said later that printed slips—a sample of which I unfortunately never saw—had been dropped from the aeroplane bearing this cheering message: “Have courage for a little time; we shall soon deliver you.” That, alas, was in the first days of autumn 1914! V Conditions in Brussels became day by day more like those of a vast prison. The prospect of escape only grew slighter with time, and the yoke of German methods more and more bitter. Their _affiches_, recounting the marvellous achievements of “_nos troupes victorieuses_,” their proclamations of all sorts with which the walls were constantly papered, were like hot irons turned in the wounds of the Belgians, painful to everyone in sympathy with the victims. Even announcements derogatory to the Belgian army were not spared them. In one German report, which I read, a Belgian prisoner was quoted as having praised the German army to the detriment of his own, and as having added: “If we were led by German officers, we should do as well as German soldiers.” Of course everyone understood this as only another sample of _la vérité allemande_, but nevertheless it brought the blood of anger to the face of many a man longing, but unable, to strangle the armed liar with his shackled hands.