and the mud of the trenches still clung to my boots and puttees in
yellow cakes. They were not the most proper clothes in which to meet
King Albert's successor, but in field gray I had to go.

The Governor General received me in a dainty Louis Quinze room done in
rose and French gray, and filled incongruously with delicate chairs and
heavy brocaded curtains, a background which instantly you felt precisely
suited his Excellency. In the English newspapers, which, by the way, are
not barred from Berlin cafés, I had read of his Excellency as the "Iron
Fist," or the "Heavy Heel," and I rather expected to see a heavy,
domineering man. Instead, a slender, stealthy man in the uniform of a
General rose from behind a tapestry topped table, revealing, as he did,
a slight stoop in his back, perhaps a trifle foppish. He held out a
long-fingered hand.

General von Bissing spoke no English. Somehow I imagined him to be one
of those old German patriots who did not learn the language simply
because it was English. Through Lieut. Herrmann I asked the Governor
General what Germany was doing toward the reconstruction of Belgium. I
told him America, when I had left, was under the impression that
Belgium was a land utterly laid waste by the German armies. I frankly
told him that in America the common belief was that the German military
Government meant tyranny; what was Germany doing for Belgium?

"I think," replied Governor General von Bissing, "that we are doing
everything that can be done under the circumstances. Those farm lands
which you saw, coming up from Lille to Brussels, were planted by German
soldiers and in the Spring they will be harvested by our soldiers.
Belgium has not been devastated, and its condition has been grievously
misstated, as you have seen. You must remember that the armies have