He was, like his Colonel, a Saxon, a pleasant-featured, domesticated man, who explained civilly in the Thuringian dialect--though to Vivie there could be no discrimination between varieties of High German--that the Sachsen folk were "Eines guetes leute" and that all would go smoothly in time.
Nevertheless the next morning when she could take stock she found nearly all the poultry except the pigeons had disappeared; and most of the apples, ripe and unripe, had vanished from the orchard trees.
The female servants of the farm, however, came back; and finding no violence was offered took up their work again.

Two days afterwards, von Giesselin sent Vivie into Brussels in his motor, with his orderly to escort her, so that she might deposit her valuables at a bank.

She found Brussels, suburbs and city alike, swarming with grey-uniformed soldiers, most of whom looked tired and despondent.
Those who were on the march, thinking Vivie must be the wife of some German officer of high rank, struck up a dismal chant from dry throats with a refrain of "Gloria, Viktoria, Hoch! Deutschland, Hoch!" At the bank the Belgian officials received her with deference.

Apart from being the daughter of the well-to-do Mrs.
Warren, she was English, and seemed to impose respect even on the Germans.

They took over her valuables, made out a receipt, and cashed a fairly large cheque in ready money.