Almost the only thing that stands out distinct in my memory from the confused recollections of the last morning spent in Louvain is a huge sight- seeing car--of the sort known at home as a rubberneck wagon--which lumbered by us with Red Cross men perched like roosting gray birds on all its seats.

We estimated we saw two hundred thousand men in motion through the ancient town.

We learned afterward we had under-figured the total by at least a third.
During these days the life of Louvain went on, so far as our alien eyes could judge, pretty much as it probably did in the peace times preceding.

At night, obeying an order, the people stayed within their doors; in the daylight hours they pursued their customary business, not greatly incommoded apparently by the presence of the conqueror.

If there was simmering hate in the hearts of the men and women of Louvain it did not betray itself in their sobered faces.