Several days passed quietly by in the little village of Meer. The sun
shone, and the wind blew, and the rains fell upon the peaceful fields,
just as if nothing whatever had happened. Each day was filled to the
brim with hard work. With the help of the Twins, Mother Van Hove kept
the garden free of weeds and took care of the stock. She even threshed
the wheat herself with her husband's flail, and stored the grain away
in sacks ready for the mill. Each evening, when the work was done, the
three went down the village street together. One evening, just at dusk,
they found nearly the whole village gathered in front of the priest's
house next to the church. Leon, the Burgomeister's oldest boy, had been
to Malines that day and had brought back a paper.
The priest was reading from it to the anxious group gathered about him.
"Oh, my children," he was saying, as Mother Van Hove and the Twins
joined the group, "there is, no doubt, need for courage, but where is
there a Belgian lacking in that? Even Julius Caesar, two thousand years
ago, found that out! The bravest of all are the Belgians, he said then,
and it is none the less true to-day! The Germans have crossed our
eastern frontier. It is reported that they are already burning towns
and killing the inhabitants if they resist. God knows what may be
before us. Our good King Albert has asked Parliament to refuse the
demands of the Germans. In spite of their solemn treaty with us, they
demand that we permit them to cross Belgium to attack France. To this
our brave King and Parliament will never consent; no true Belgian would
wish them to. There is, then, this choice either to submit absolutely
to the invasion of our country, or to defend it! The army is already in
the field."
There was a moment of heavy silence as he finished speaking. Then the
voice of the Burgomeister's wife was heard in the stillness. "Oh,
Mynheer Pastoor," she said to the priest, "what shall we do? There is
no place to go to we have no refuge!"
"God is our refuge and strength, my children," said the priest, lifting
his eyes to heaven. "We have no other! You must stay here, and if the
terrible Germans come, hide yourselves away as best you can, until they
have passed by. Do not anger them by resisting. Bow your heads to the
storm and have faith in God that it may soon pass over." He turned and
led the way toward the little church as he spoke. "Come," he said, "let
us pray before God's holy altar, and if the enemy comes, seek refuge in
the church itself. Surely even the Germans will respect the sanctuary."
Solemnly the people filed into the little church, lighted only by the
candles on the altar, and knelt upon the hard floor. The priest left
them there, praying silently, while he went to put on the robes of his
offices. Then once more he appeared before the altar, and led the
kneeling congregation in the litany.
"From war and pestilence and sudden death, Good Lord, deliver us," he
prayed at last, and all the people responded with a fervent "Amen."
That night, when she put her children to bed, Mother Van Hove fastened
a chain with a locket upon it about Marie's neck. "Listen, ma Mie," she
said, "and you, too, my little Jan. God only knows what may be before
us. This locket contains my picture. You must wear it always about your
neck, and remember that your mother's name is Leonie Van Hove, and your
father's name is Georges Van Hove. If by any chance--which God
forbid--we should become separated from one another, keep the locket on
your neck, and our names in your memory until we meet again; for if
such a thing should happen, do not doubt that I should find you, though
I had to swim the sea to do it! For you, my Jan, I have no locket, but
you are a man, a brave man, now! You must take care of yourself and
your sister, too, if need should arise, and above all, remember
this--only the brave are safe. Whatever happens, you must remember that
you are Belgians, and be brave!"
The children clung to her, weeping, as she finished. "There, there,"
she said soothingly: "I had to tell you this so you would be ready to
do your best and not despair, whatever might happen, but be sure, my
lambs, nothing shall harm you if I can help it, and nothing shall
separate us from one another if God so wills. Now, go to sleep!"
She kissed them tenderly, and, quite comforted, they nestled down in
their beds and soon were asleep. She herself slept but little that
night. Long after the children were quiet, she sat alone on the kitchen
step in the darkness with Fidel by her side, and listened to the faint
sounds of distant guns, and watched the red light in the sky, which
told her of the burning of Louvain.