IV
"FOR KING, FOR LAW AND LIBERTY"
At the gate they were met by an officer, who at once took command ofthe company. There was only a moment for hasty good-byes before theorder to march was given, and the women and children watched the littlecolumn stride bravely away up the street toward the armory, where theuniforms and arms were kept. They followed at a little distance andtook up their station across the street from the great doors throughwhich the men had disappeared. There was little talking among them.Only the voice of the priest could be heard now and then, as he said afew words to one and another of the waiting women. It was still soearly in the morning that the streets of the city were not yet filledwith people going to work. Only those, like themselves, concerned withthe sad business of war were abroad.
To Jan and Marie the long wait seemed endless, but at last the doors ofthe armory sprang open; there was a burst of martial music, and a bandplaying the national hymn appeared. "For King, for law and liberty!"thrilled the bugles, and amidst the waving of flags, and the cheers ofthe people, who had now begun to fill the streets, a regiment ofsoldiers marched away toward the north. Jan and Marie stood with theirmother on the edge of the sidewalk, eagerly scanning every face as thesoldiers passed, and at last Jan shouted, "I see Father! I see Father!"
Mother Van Hove lifted her two children high in her arms for him tosee, but Father Van Hove could only smile a brave good-bye as hemarched swiftly past.
"No tears, my children!" cried the priest; "let them see no tears! Sendthem away with a smile!" And, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, hemade the sign of the cross and raised his hand in blessing, as thetroops went by.
For a time Mother Van Hove and the children ran along the sidewalk,trying to keep pace with the soldiers, but their quick strides were toomuch for the Twins, and it was not long before Marie said,breathlessly, "My legs are too short! I can't run so fast!"
"I can't too!" gasped Jan. Mother Van Hove stopped short at once, andthe three stood still, hand in hand, and watched the soldiers untilthey turned a corner and disappeared from sight through the Antwerpgate of the city.
They were quite alone, for the other women and children had gone nofarther than the armory, and were already on their homeward way toMeer. Now for the first time Mother Van Hove gave way to grief, and Janand Marie wept with her; but it was only for a moment. Then she wipedher eyes, and the Twins' too, on her apron, and said firmly: "Come, mylambs! Tears will not bring him back! We must go home now as fast as wecan. There is need there for all that we can do! You must be the man ofthe house now, my Janke, and help me take your father's place on thefarm; and Marie must be our little house-mother. We must be as brave assoldiers, even though we cannot fight."
"I think I could be braver if I had some breakfast," sobbed Janke.
Mother Van Hove struck her hands together in dismay. "I never oncethought of food!" she cried, "and I haven't a red cent with me! Wecannot buy a breakfast! We must just go hungry until we get home! Butsoldiers must often go hungry, my little ones. We must be as brave asthey. Come, now. I will be the captain! Forward march!"
Jan and Marie stiffened their little backs, as she gave the word ofcommand, and, shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the street towardthe city gate to the martial refrain, "Le Roi, la loi, la liberte,"which Mother Van Hove hummed for them under her breath.
It was a long way back to the little farm-house, and when at last thethree weary pilgrims reached it, they were met by an indignant chorusof protests from all the creatures which had been left behind. Bel waslowing at the pasture bars, the pig was squealing angrily in her pen,the rooster had crowed himself hoarse, and Fidel, patient Fidel, wassitting on guard at the back door.
Mother Van Hove flew into the kitchen the moment she reached the house,and in two minutes Jan and Marie were seated before a breakfast ofbread and milk. Then she fed the pig, let out the hens, and gave Fidela bone which she had saved for him from the soup. Last of all, shemilked the cow, and when this was done, and she had had a cup of coffeeherself, the clock in the steeple struck twelve.
Even Mother Van Hove's strength was not equal to work in theharvest-field that day, but she stowed the load of wheat which had beenbrought home the night before in the barn, and, after the chores weredone at night, she and the Twins went straight to bed and slept as onlythe very weary can, until the sun streamed into their windows in themorning.
The Belgian Twins Page 4
