ears from my eyes? And as they came
welling up--tears of appreciation for the generous fineness of his
spirit--he took them to be tears of grief, brought on by thoughts of
home and friends and all those haunting memories. But he was
equal to the occasion.

In a little vacant space he made a circle of cigarettes and small
Belgian coins. In the center he placed a small box, and on it laid a
ruler. "This is the roulette wheel at Monte Carlo, and you are the
rich American," he whispered, and with a snap of the finger he
spun the ruler round. Whenever it stopped, he presented me my
prize with sundry winkings and chucklings, interrupted by furtive
glances towards the door.

Rouge-et-noir upon a prison floor! To him existence was such a
game--red life or black death, as the fates ordained. His spirit was
contagious, and I found myself smiling through my tears. When he
saw his task accomplished, gathering in his coins, he crawled
away.

His was a restless spirit. Only once did I see him steadfastly quiet.
That was the next morning, when he sat with his eyes fixed upon
an opening in the shutter. He insisted upon my taking his seat, and
adjusting my angle of vision properly. There, framed in a window
across the forbidden courtyard, was a pretty girl watering flowers.
She was indeed a distracting creature, and de Burgher danced
around me with unfeigned glee. His previous experience with
Americans had evidently led him to believe that we were all
connoisseurs in pretty girls. I tried valiantly to uphold our national
reputation, but my thoughts at the time were much more heavenly
than even that fair apparition framed in the window, and I fear I
disappointed de Burgher by my lack of enthusiasm.

My other comrade, Constance Staes, must not be forgotten. For
some infraction of the new military regulations he had been hustled
off to prison, but he, too, was born for liberty, a free-ranging spirit
that fetters could never bind. He made me see the Belgian soul
that would never be subservient to German rule. The Germans
can be overlords in Belgium only when such spirits have either
emigrated or have been totally exterminated.

To Constance Staes every rule was a challenge. That's the reason
he had been put in jail. He had trespassed on forbidden way in
front of the East Station. Here in prison smoking was forbidden. So
Staes, with one eye upon the listless guard, would slip beneath a
blanket, take a pull at his cigarette, and come