I felt not the slightest inclination to go and see what was the matter, but I stretched myself and yawned, feeling much more tired after a couple of hours' rest than when I went to bed. The uproar went on, and suddenly I thought that I also heard a hubbub in the café downstairs. And, really, it came ever nearer. People rushed up and down the stairs, screamed and yelled, doors were banged, in short it was as if they were pulling down the house. Very sleepy, I went on listening ... listening ... probably until I fell asleep again, for I cannot remember what happened after. I woke up in the morning, and when going downstairs saw that the doors of all the rooms stood open, and everything inside was in great disorder. In the café tables and chairs were overturned, and broken looking-glasses lay on the floor. The front door was also open, and I walked away. And now the explanation? During the night the Germans had started house-to-house searches, and wherever the doors were not opened quickly enough, the soldiers began to shoot. The inhabitants were then driven into the street amid loud screams and cries. It was also said that some persons had been shot. By what accident had I not been disturbed? The height, perhaps, at which my miserable little garret-room was situated. The hotel where I stayed that night was called _Hôtel de la Paix_; an hotel of peace, indeed! CHAPTER VIII LOUVAIN DESTROYED As soon as I heard about the horrors that took place at Louvain, I hastened to try and get there to find out, if possible, by personal observation the truth of the numberless conflicting stories that would undoubtedly grow up from the facts. I expected that the situation round about the town would be rather critical, and decided to proceed cautiously. It is rather a long stretch of nearly forty-five miles, but I succeeded in getting to Louvain in the afternoon. The road itself had prepared me already in some degree for the horrors I should find there. All the villages through which I passed, excepting Tongres and the townlets of St. Trond, Borgloon, and Tirlemont, were for the greater part burned down or shelled into ruins. The German troops, who had been stoutly resisted during their march through St. Trond and Tirlemont, had attacked in a great rage the civilian population. They set the houses on fire and aimed their rifles at the terror-stricken civilians who fled from them. The men were nearly all killed, but women and children were shot as well. On the road from Borgloon to Thienen I had a chat with an old crone, who stood weeping by the ruins of her miserable little cottage, which she refused to leave. This little house, which strenuous zeal had enabled her to buy, was all she possessed on earth besides her two sons, both fallen through the murderous lead of those barbarians, and buried in the little garden at the back of their ruined home. Of another family, living close by, the father and two sons were murdered in the same way.