What she hopes for we may guess--the
end of war; the return of her faithful people to their homes; the
reunion of families; that the guns will cease firing, so the long
lines of ambulances will no longer fill the roads; that the wounded
will recover; and that those that grieve may be comforted.
She has pawned her jewels. When I saw her she wore a thin gold chain
round her neck, and on it a tiny gold heart. I believe she has
sacrificed everything else. Royal jewels have been pawned before
this--to support extravagant mistresses or to bolster a crumbling
throne; but Elisabeth of Belgium has pawned her jewels to buy supplies
for wounded soldiers. Battle-scarred old Belgium has not always had a
clean slate; but certainly this act of a generous and devoted queen
should mark off many scores.
The Queen is living at La Panne, a tiny fishing village and resort on
the coast--an ugly village, robbed of quaintness by its rows of villas
owned by summer visitors. The villas are red and yellow brick, built
chateau fashion and set at random on the sand. Efforts at lawns have
proved abortive. The encroaching dunes gradually cover the grass. Here
and there are streets; and there is one main thoroughfare, along which
is a tramway that formerly connected the town with other villages.
On one side the sea; on the other the dunes, with little shade and no
beauty--such is the location of the new capital of Belgium.
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