The fact was that the overwhelming horde of invaders could not be kept out of the city of Liège by the hastily mobilised Belgian army; but the heroic governor, General Leman, held the ring of forts intact until they were pulverised by the heavy ordnance of which Dalroy had seen two specimens during the journey to Cologne. Many days were destined to elapse before the last of the strongholds, Fort Loncin, crumbled into ruins by the explosion of its own magazine; and until that was achieved the mighty army of Germany dared not advance another kilomètre to the west.
When the Bavarian corporal had gone through every part of the house and outbuildings, and satisfied himself that the only stores left were some potatoes and a half-bag of flour, he informed the miller that he and his squad would be billeted there that evening.
"Your pantry is bare," he said, "but the wine is all right, so we'll bring a joint which we 'planted' this morning. Be decent about the wine, and your folk can have a cut in, too."
Possibly he meant to be civil, and there was a chance that the night might pass without incident. Visé itself was certainly quiet save for the unceasing stream of troops making for the pontoon bridge. The fighting seemed to have shifted to the west and south-west, and Joos put an unerring finger on the situation when he said pithily, "Liège is making a deuce of a row after being taken."
"How many forts are there around the city?" inquired Dalroy.
"Twelve, big and little. Pontisse and Barchon cover the Meuse on this side, and Fleron and Evegnée bar the direct road from Aix. Unless I am greatly in error, monsieur, the German wolf is breaking his teeth on some of them at this minute."
Liège itself was ten miles distant; Pontisse, the nearest fort, though on the left bank of the river, barely six. The evening was still, there being only a slight breeze from the south-west, which brought the loud thunder of the guns and the crackle of rifle-fire. It was the voice of Belgium proclaiming to the high gods that she was worthy of life.
The Bavarians came with their "joint," a noble piece of beef hacked off a whole side looted from a butcher's shop. Madame Joos cut off an ample quantity, some ten pounds, and put it in the oven. The girls peeled potatoes and prepared cabbages. In half-an-hour the kitchen had an appetising smell of food being cooked, the men were smoking, and a casual visitor would never have resolved the gathering into its constituent elements of irreconcilable national hatreds.