be the relentless truth and
nothing but the truth, in all its aspects. Vivie was deafened,
nearly stunned by the frightful noise of the volley in a confined
space. Next, she was being unceremoniously pushed out of the
verandah, into the corridor, and so out into the snow-covered space
in front of the brick building; whilst the officer was examining the
dead body of the fallen man, ready to give the _coup-de-grace_, if
he were not dead. But he was. Vivie was next conscious that she had
the most dreadful, blinding headache she had ever known, and with it
felt an irresistible nausea. The prison Directeur was taking her
hand and saying: "Mademoiselle: it is my duty to inform you that you
are no longer under arrest. You are free to return to your lodging."
Minna von Stachelberg had come from somewhere and was taking her
right arm, to lead her Brussels-ward; and Pasteur Walcker was
ranging himself alongside to be her escort. Unable to reply to any
of them, she strode forward by herself to where under the snow lay
an ill-kept grass plot, and there was violently sick. The
anaesthetics and soporifics of the last two days were having their
usual aftermath. After that came on a shuddering faintness and a
rigor of shivers, under which her teeth clacked. Some doctor came
forward with a little brandy. She put the glass to her lips, then
pushed it aside, took Pasteur Walcker's proffered arm, and walked
towards the tram terminus.

Then they were in the tram, going towards the heart of Brussels. How
commonplace! Fat frowsy market women got in--or got out--with their
baskets; clerks entered with portfolios--don't they call them
"serviettes"?--under their arms; German policemen, Belgian
gendarmes, German soldiers, a priest with his breviary came and went
as though this Monday morning were like any other. Vivie walked
quite firmly and staidly from the tram halt to the Walckers' house
in the Rue Haute. There she was met by Madame Walcker, who at a sign
from her husband took her upstairs, silently undressed her and put
her to bed with a hot water bottle and a cup of some hot drink which
tasted a little of coffee.

After that Vivie passed three days of great sickness and nausea, a
furred tongue, and positively no appetite. Finally she arose a week
after the execution and looked at herself in the mirror. She was
terribly haggard, she looked at least fifty-five--"They must have
taken me for his mother or his aunt; never for his sweetheart,"