It was to be a conversation rather than an interview; but as it was to be given as accurately as possible to the American people, I was permitted to make careful notes of both questions and answers.  It was to be, in effect, a statement of the situation in Belgium as the King of the Belgians sees it.

I spoke first of a message to America.

“I have already sent a message to America,” he informed me; “quite a long message.  We are, of course, intensely appreciative of what Americans have done for Belgium.”

“They are anxious to do what they can.  The general feeling is one of great sympathy.”

“Americans are both just and humane,” the King replied; “and their system of distribution is excellent.  I do not know what we should have done without the American Relief Committees.”

“Is there anything further Your Majesty can suggest?”

“They seem to have thought of everything,” the King said simply.  “The food is invaluable—­particularly the flour.  It has saved many from starvation.”

“But there is still need?”

“Oh, yes—­great need.”

It was clear that the subject was a tragic one.  The King of the Belgians loves his people, as they love him, with a devotion that is completely unselfish.  That he is helpless to relieve so much that they are compelled to endure is his great grief.

His face clouded.  Probably he was seeing, as he must always see, the dejected figures of the peasants in the fields; the long files of his soldiers as they made their way through wet and cold to the trenches; the destroyed towns; the upheaval of a people.

“What is possible to know of the general condition of affairs in that part of Belgium occupied by the Germans?” I asked.  “I do not mean in regard to food only, but the general condition of the Belgian people.”

“It is impossible to say,” was the answer.  “During the invasion it was very bad.  It is a little better now, of course; but here we are on the wrong side of the line to form any ordered judgment.  To gain a real conception of the situation it would be necessary to go through the occupied portions from town to town, almost from house to house.  Have you been in the other part of Belgium?”

“Not yet; I may go.”

“You should do that—­see Louvain, Aerschot, Antwerp—­see the destroyed towns for yourself.  No one can tell you.  You must see them.”

I was not certain that I should be permitted to make such a journey, but the King waved my doubts aside with a gesture.

“You are an American,” he said.  “It would be quite possible and you would see just what has happened.  You would see open towns that were bombarded; other towns that were destroyed after occupation!  You would see a country ruthlessly devastated; our wonderful monuments destroyed; our architectural and artistic treasures sacrificed without reason—­without any justification.”