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Three-fifteen p.m. Heard a big noise in the street and ran to the
window in time to see about forty English prisoners passing under guard
--the first English soldiers I have seen, in this campaign, either as
prisoners or otherwise. Their tan khaki uniforms and flat caps give
them a soldierly look very unlike the slovenly, sloppy-appearing French
prisoners in the guardhouse; but they appear to be tremendously
downcast. The German soldiers crowd up to stare at them, but there is no
jeering or taunting from the Germans. These prisoners are all
infantrymen, judging by their uniforms. They disappear through the
gateway of the prince's park.
Three-forty. I have just had some exercise; walked from the front door
to the courtyard and back. There are two guards outside the door now
instead of one. The German army certainly takes mighty good care of its
guests.
This day has been as long as Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," and much more
tiresome. No; I'll take that back; it is not strong enough.


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