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nearly dark when a last thought brought me down again to see if anything had been forgotten. I groped about and kept knocking against hard and cold objects on the tables. These proved to be helmets,and then I realized that the room was filled with shadowy soldiers who were standing watching me in silence. 
N. and I passed the rest of that night in our neighbour's cellar. Returning next day to find something to eat, I saw in the big room that some of the German soldiers were quietly seated at a table writing letters; others were looking at books of my drawings. But the cannon had been set up in the garden and was now firing at short intervals with a deafening noise. After a hasty meal in the kitchen we again departed to our neighbours where we were to pass that never-to-be-forgotten night. Fatigued,we sat for a moment in a comfortable recess of the small room wherein were the stairs leading down to the cellar. The door was open though and numbed by the noise of crashing shells and booming cannons. I saw as in a dream figures passing to and fro in the corridor leading to our hostess's large music-room. Distinctive among these was the tall figure of a melancholy sad very blond young German. Captain Horn wore a black Iron Cross on his breast and in his hand he carried a flute. From my garden I had already heard this flute accompanied on the piano by my hostess's daughter, an accomplished musician.