THEY WOULD NOT KILL THE COOK
Besides myself, I discover only one woman in the whole of Aerschot--a
little fair-haired Fleming, with a lion's heart. She is the bravest
woman in the world. I love the delightful way she drops her wee
six-weeks-old baby into my arms, and goes off to serve a hundred hungry
Belgians with black bread and coffee, confident that her little treasure
will be quite safe in the lap of the "Anglaise."
Smiling and running about between the kitchen, the officers' mess, and
the bar, this brave, good soul finds time to tell us how she remained
all alone in Aerschot for three whole weeks, all the while the Germans
were in possession of the town.
"I knew that cooking they must have," she says, "and food and drink, and
for that I knew I was safe. So I remained here, and kept the hotel of my
little husband from being burned to the ground! But I slept always with
my baby in my arms, and the revolver beside the pillow. In the night
sometimes I heard them knocking at my door. Yes, they would knock,
knock, knock! And I would lie there, the revolver ready, if needs be,
for myself and the petite both! But they never forced that door. They
would go away as stealthily as they had come! Ah! they knew that if they
had got in they would have found a dead woman, not a live one!"
And I quite believed her.