This all took place on Saturday. On the following Monday, First-Lieutenant Block, commanding officer at the jail, hurriedly came to my cell, saying: “I have good news for you. The German Government, through me, offers to allow you to pass through Belgium, on your way to Holland, in order that you may have the opportunity and pleasure of visiting your children near Antwerp. They are now awaiting an answer from you. Do you accept?” “My answer will be short,” I said. “I accept with thanks.” Three years had elapsed since I left Capellen. During that long time I had not been allowed to receive one visit from my daughter or the children of my wife, who had remained at Capellen. “This will take a few days,” said the officer, “because the several military posts which you will pass, in Belgium, will have to be notified.” “I have no objection to wait one, two or three weeks if I may have the precious privilege of seeing my children again before going to England,” I said. “I will communicate your answer at once to the department of Foreign Affairs,” the officer then remarked. Three days later, the same officer informed me that he had been chosen to accompany me to Brussels and thence to the frontier of Holland. He appeared particularly happy in anticipation of fulfilling this duty. As to myself, I had no objection to make, as this officer had been in contact with me for more than two years, and it would be preferable to travel with some one with whom I was familiar. Moreover, First-Lieut. Block had united his efforts with my own when I solicited permission to go to Belgium during the long illness of my deceased wife. I had waited through one week, and then another, when the officer–always the same–arrived one day with a gloomy countenance which reflected bad news for me. “Bad news?” I inquired. “Yes,” he said; “bad news, surely.” “I know what it is,” I said. “They refuse to let me pass through Belgium.” “You have said it.” I could not repress a movement of impatience and annoyance. “How is it possible that such a thing can happen?” I asked. “Didn’t you inform me two weeks ago that the German Government had already decided to let me pass through the occupied territory so that I might go and see my children?” “Yes,” he said. “Then what authority is it that is so highly situated that it can override a decision taken by the Government?” “It is the military authority!” “Well,” I said, rather dryly, “when shall we start for Holland?” “As soon as you are ready.” “Then, we will leave this evening or to-morrow. The sooner the better, now,” I told him. Our departure was accordingly arranged to take place on Friday night, May 9. CHAPTER XXVII TOWARDS LIBERTY