At last, after what seemed to the imprisoned children like a year
of darkness and dread, and of strange, terrifying noises of all
kinds, the sound of horses' hoofs and marching feet died away in
the distance, and Jan ventured to push open the door of the
cavern a crack, just intending to peep out. Immediately there was
a crash of falling tinware. Jan quickly drew back again into the
safe darkness and waited. As nothing further happened, he peeped
out again. This time Fidel, springing forward, flung the doors
wide open, and dashed out into the sunshine with a joyous bark.

In a moment more Jan and Marie also crawled out of their hiding-
place after him. For an instant, as they came out into the
daylight, it seemed to the children as if they had awakened from
a dreadful dream. There stood the farmhouse just as before, with
the kitchen door wide open and the sun streaming in upon the
sanded floor. There were only the marks of many feet in the soft
earth of the farmyard, an empty pigpen, and a few chicken
feathers blowing about the hen house, to show where the invaders
had been and what they had carried away with them. Jan and Marie,
followed by Fidel, ran through the house. From the front door,
which opened on the road; they could see the long gray line
sweeping across the fields toward Malines.

"The storm has passed, cried Marie, sobbing with grief, "just as
Mynheer Pastoor said it would! Mother! Mother, where are you?"
They ran from kitchen to bedroom and back again, their terror
increasing at every step, as no voice answered their call. They
searched the cellar and the loft; they looked in the stable and
barn, and even in the dog-house. Their mother was nowhere to be