The captain just shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, so be it then," said the colonel. "Give the signal to leave the walls. Afterwards I'll expect you all to come to my quarters, gentlemen, for a glass of wine. None of you will be getting any sleep tonight. Have courage, gentlemen, and long live Spain!"

The officers repeated their commander's last words, but somewhat mutedly.
Then the drums beat the retreat and the troops withdrew from the walls of
Fort Liefkenhoek.

The commander himself held back for a while and, sighing, leant his elbows on the parapet, cupping his chin in his hands. He stared out in this wise over the waters and gazed at the night and murmured:

"He's right. This war has a curse on it. For fourteen years now the Spanish flag has flown yet again on these walls and on the walls and the towers of Antwerp, but are we for . . . Read More