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MORE DAYS IN ANTWERP 239
leather and the tramping of the horses’ hoofs, these sounds
seem still to haunt my ears as I write. Like a slow and irre-
sistible tidal wave, like an implacable necessity, this train is
rolling towards its goal. It is Germany’s train of victory. On
hundreds of other roads similar streams are llowing to and from
the greatest battle lines maintained by a single country ever
since Noah left the ark to people the earth with human
beings, for, as everyone knows, the continuous fighting line
from Nieuport on the North Sea via Rheims and round Verdun
to the Vosges is an accomplished fact.
We see eyes gleaming at us through the darkness. It is
the light from cars we meet, but what can their business be
on the road to Antwerp at this late hour ? From under the
shadow of the trees fresh packs of horsemen, square-set,
sturdy men on well-fed powerful mounts constantly emerge
into the circle of light from our lamps. Later on comes a
gun team, no longer needed here, on its way to other places
where the guns will resume their music for the benefit of the
entente legions, and here and there among the trees the figures
of soldiers preparing their evening meal are silhouetted against
the ruddy glow of the bivouac fires. Their pipes are glowing
in the darkness and one can see the gleam of their teeth as
they break into a peal of laughter at some comical remark.
At the Banque de Paris and a couple of other banks they
shook their heads over my Swedish letter of credit: " Toutes
les lettres de credit sont annulées." I should certainly have had
no difficulty in getting money by appealing to the Governor-
General, but when I explained my unsound economic position
at the Swedish Legation, Herr Pousette, who was charge
d’affaires, said that he would be very glad to lend me a thou-
sand francs against the despatch of a telegram to Skandinaviska
Kreditaktiebolaget. When this difficulty had been overcome,
I took a trip to Löwen, which is German for Louvain. My
friend, Lieut. Dr. Hiitten, still acted as my guide. We had
under our charge the energetic and charming Frau Koch,
henceforth to be named Sister Martha, clad in cap and spotless
white dress with a red cross on the left arm. The 12th of
October turned out a brilliantly fine day. We passed out of
the city under the triumphal arch between mirror-like ponds
and yellowing trees. The Chaussée de Louvain soon developed
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