There were, for example, the soldiers stationed at the Villa Beau-sejour and at the Oudekens' farm. Vivie had a growing desire to find out what had happened to her mother's property. One day, late in February, 1918, when there was a premature breath and feeling of Spring in the air, she called on her friend--as he had become--the Directeur of the Prison of Saint-Gilles, and asked him--since she herself could not deign to ask any favour or concession of the German authorities--to obtain for her a permit to proceed to Tervueren, the railway service between Brussels and that place having been reopened. She walked over--with what reminiscences the roads and paths were filled--to the Villa, and showing her pass was received, not uncivilly, by the sergeant-major in charge. Fortunately the officers had all gone, voting it very dull, with Brussels so near and yet so far. After their departure the sergeant-major and his reduced guard of men had begun to make the place more homelike. The usual German thrift had shown itself. They had reassembled the remains of Mrs. Warren's herd of cows. These had calves and were giving milk. There were once more the beginnings of a poultry yard. The rooms had been cleaned at any rate of their unspeakable filth, though the dilapidations and the ruined furniture made tears of vexation stand in Vivie's eyes. However she kept her temper and told the sergeant that it was _her_ property now; that she intended to reclaim it at the end of the War, and that if he saw to it that the place was handed back to her with no further damage, she would take care that he was duly rewarded; and as an instalment she gave him a good tip. He replied with a laugh and a shrug "That may well come about." ("Das koennte wohl geschehen.") He had already heard of the Englaenderin whom the Kommandantur was afraid to touch, and opened his heart to her; even offering to prepare her a little meal in her own _salle a manger_. With what strange sensations she sat down to it. The sergeant as he brought in the _oeufs au plat_ said the soldiers were already sick of the War. Most wanted to go back to Germany, but a few were so much in love with Belgium that they hoped they might be allowed to settle down there; especially those who spoke Platt-deutsch, to whom Flemish came so easy. From Villa Beau-sejour, Vivien Warren passed on to the Oudekens' farm, wondering what she would see--Some fresh horror? But on the contrary, Mme. Oudekens looked years younger; indeed when Vivien first stood outside the house door, she had heard really hearty laughter coming from the orchard where the farmer's widow was pinning up clothes to dry. Yet it was here that the woman's husband had been shot and buried, as the result of a field-court's sentence.