age. An answer returned within a few
hours, granting us cordial possession.

I was told that we should be kept under strict guard and that an
officer would be lodged in the house with us. Colonel Bettington
advised me to ask the Government that this officer might be Lieutenant
de Korte, who was a gentleman, and a man of kindly instincts. This I
did, and again my wishes were generously considered. My first act in
the cottage home was to cable the United States Secretary of State of
my privilege; Betty and my faithful housemaid, Parker, were allowed to
be with us.

Thirteen men were stationed on guard around the tiny flower-covered
cottage. No letters or telegrams were allowed to be sent or received
without first being read by Lieutenant de Korte; visitors were obliged
to obtain permits to see us, and many were the times I saw my best
friends hang disconsolate faces over the garden gate, because the
prescribed number of passes had already been distributed.

The ladies of the house were allowed to go out twice in the week. I
never accepted this freedom. Betty did once, and returning after hours
was refused entrance by the sentinel. Fortunately Mr. de Korte came
to the rescue. Another time, in consequence of a change of guard, he
himself was obliged to show his papers before being allowed to leave
the premises. Lieutenant de Korte was excessively strict, as was his
duty to the Government, but throughout the two weeks we were under his
care he proved himself entirely worthy of Colonel Bettington's praise,
'A gentleman and a man of kindly instincts!' One piece of kindness I
particularly appreciated. _He never wore his uniform in the house_.
When he sat down to table it was in the usual evening dress of a man
of the world, and our conversation was always on pleasant subjects. We
never forgot, however, that we were prisoners. My husband and I slept
like Royalty in the throne-room, with all the Court assembled. One
guard sat at our bedroom door, gun in hand, and two others on the
verandah just outside the low window. I could hear their breathing
throughout the night. My husband and I could never exchange a private
word; sometimes I would write a message which was hurriedly burnt in
the bedroom candle. The day we moved into the cottage I saw a rose in
the garden which I thought would please and refresh my patient. I
stepped over the threshold to find my nose in conjunction with the
highly-polished barrel of an unfriendly rifle