A GLORIOUS summer evening, quite refreshing after the exhausting heat of the day. Nature invited to restfulness, and so much the more cruel sounded the incessant thunder of the guns, which also boomed from the citadel. As soon as the Germans had taken possession of this old, dilapidated fortress they proceeded to drag their guns on to it, and trained them on the surrounding forts. The streets offered the same aspect as those at Visé. From each house floated the pitiful little white flag; the people sat together on their "stoeps," for they did not venture out in the streets. Everywhere I was again saluted in the same cringingly polite manner, and eyed with suspicion. Crowds of soldiers moved through the main streets, revelling, shouting, screaming in their mad frenzy of victors. They sat, or stood, or danced in the cafés, and the electrical pianos and organs had been started again "by order." Doors and windows were opened wide, and through the streets sounded forth the song "Deutschland über Alles" (Germany before all other), which affected the inhabitants as a provocation and a challenge. Oh! one could see so clearly how thousands of citizens suffered from it, how they felt hurt in their tenderest sentiments. Dull and depressed they stared in front of them, and whenever their set features relaxed, it was a scornful grin. From warehouses and from shops bales of corn, flour, sugar, and other goods were taken, thrown in heaps and then placed on all sorts of carts and motors. In the most frequented parts military bands had taken their stand, and played amidst the loud jubilation of the soldiers. I walked about a little longer to examine the damage done. The fine _Pont des Arches_ was for the greater part destroyed by the retreating Belgians, as well as the _Pont Maghin_. This is a pity, especially as regards the first-named bridge, so famous as a work of art, and the more so as other bridges had not been touched and could be used by the Germans. The bombardment did not damage the town to any great extent, but it was remarkable that the largest houses had suffered most. Having walked some thirty miles that day, I began to feel a serious need for rest. But when I applied, there was no room anywhere in the hotels, and where there was room they told me the contrary after a critical glance at my outfit. I then tried to find the nunnery of the _Sœurs de la Miséricorde_, where one of my cousins had taken the veil. At last, in the Rue des Clarisses I found the huge door of the monastery, and rang the bell. After a few moments a small trellised shutter in the stout door was opened ajar, and a tremulous voice asked in French what I wanted. I assumed that it was one of the nuns, but I could see nothing through that narrow jar. "Sister," I said, "I am a cousin of Sœur Eulalie, and should like to see her, to know how she is and take her greetings to her family in The Netherlands."