And here,
in one of the six small villas that house the court, the King and
Queen of Belgium, with the Crown Prince, are living. They live very
quietly, walking together along the sands at those times when King
Albert is not with his troops, faring simply, waiting always--as all
Belgium is waiting to-day. Waiting for the end of this terrible time.
I asked a member of the royal household what they did during those
long winter evenings, when the only sounds in the little village were
the wash of the sea and the continual rumble of the artillery at
Nieuport.
"What can we do?" he replied. "My wife and children are in Brussels.
It is not possible to read, and it is not wise to think too much. We
wait."
But waiting does not imply inaction. The members of His Majesty's
household are all officers in the army. I saw only one gentleman in
civilian dress, and he was the King's secretary, M. Ingenbleek. The
King heads this activity, and the Queen of the Belgians is never idle.
The Ocean Ambulance, the great Belgian base hospital, is under her
active supervision, and its location near the royal villa makes it
possible for her to visit it daily. She knows the wounded soldiers,
who adore her. Indeed, she is frankly beloved by the army. Her
appearance is always the signal for a demonstration; and again and
again I saw copies of her photograph nailed up in sentry huts, in
soldiers' billets, in battered buildings that were temporary
headquarters for divisions of the army.
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