_Count Clairmont._ _Emil Grelieu_--A Famous Belgian Author. _Jeanne_--His Wife. _Pierre_ } Their sons. _Maurice_ } _Lagard_--Member of the Cabinet. _General_--Adjutant to Count Clairmont. _Insane Girl._ _François_--Gardener. _Henrietta_ } Grelieu's Servants. _Silvina_ } _Commander of the German Armies in Belgium_. _Von Blumenfeld._ _Von Ritzau_ } _Von Stein_ } Officers. _Von Schauss_ } _Kloetz_--Military Engineer. _Zigler_--Telegraphist. _Greitzer._ _German Officer._ _Belgian Peasant_. _Doctor Langloi._ _A Chauffeur_--A Belgian. SCENE I _The action takes place in Belgium, at the beginning of the war of 1914. The scene represents a garden near the villa of the famous Belgian author, Emil Grelieu. Beyond the tops of low trees, beyond the stone fence which divides Grelieu's estate from the neighboring gardens, are seen the outlines of the red roofs of the houses in the small town, of the Town Hall, and of an ancient church. There the people already know about the war; there the church bells are ringing uneasily, while in the garden there is still peace. A small, splendidly kept flower garden; beautiful and fragrant flowers; shrubbery in bloom; a nook of a hothouse. The glass covers are half open. The sun is shining softly; there is in the air the bluish mist of a warm and quiet day, and all colors seem tenderly soft; only in the foreground the colors of the flowers stand out in sharp relief._ _François is sitting and clipping roses at one of the flower beds. He is an old and deaf, stern Belgian, with long, gray hair. He holds in his mouth an earthen pipe. François is working. He does not hear the tolling of the bells. He is alone in the garden, and it seems to him that all is calm and quiet._ _But something fills him with faint alarm. He hears an indistinct call. He looks around--but sees no one. He hums to himself a song without words. Suddenly he stops, straightens himself, holding the scissors in his hands, and looks around again_. FRANÇOIS Who has called me? _He sees no one. He looks at the hothouse--it seems to him that some one is calling him from there._ I hear you, Monsieur Emil, I am here. _He sees no one. He frowns and cries angrily._ Who is calling me? No one here. _He looks at the sky, then at the flowers, and resumes his work quietly._ They say I am deaf. But I heard some one calling me twice: "François!" "François!" No, perhaps it is my blood, making a noise in my ears. _Silence. But his uneasiness does not subside; he listens again._ I can still hear some one calling me: "François!" Very well; here is François, and if anyone needs me he may call me again. I shall not run. I can't hear the chirping of the birds; the birds have long since become silent for me. What nonsense--these birds! Very well, I am deaf--does anyone think I am going to cry over it? _Twitches his mouth into a smile._