The next morning was Thursday morning, and by Thursday night, at the
very latest, we counted on being back in Brussels; but we were not
destined to see Brussels again for nearly six weeks. We breakfasted
frugally on good bread and execrable coffee at a half-wrecked little
cafe where soldiers had slept; and at eleven o'clock, when we had
bestowed Bulotte, the ancient nag, and the dogcart on an accommodating
youth--giving them to him as a gracious gift, since neither he nor
anyone else would buy the outfit at any price--we repaired to the villa
to report ourselves and start on our return to the place whence we had
come so laboriously.
The commander and his staff were just leaving, and they were in a big
hurry. We knew the reason for their hurry, for since daylight the sound
of heavy firing to the south and southwest, across the border in the
neighborhood of Maubeuge, had been plainly audible. Officers in long
gray overcoats with facings of blue, green, black, yellow and four
shades of red--depending on the branches of the service to which they
belonged--were piling into automobiles and scooting away.
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