He was impatiently expected there for, though the fleet which brought him was not visible from the shore, the royal salutes had been heard through the mist, and had apprised the whole coast of his arrival.
Thousands had assembled at Honslaerdyk to welcome him with applause which came from their hearts and which went to his heart.

That was one of the few white days of a life, beneficent indeed and glorious, but far from happy.

After more than two years passed in a strange land, the exile had again set foot on his native soil.

He heard again the language of his nursery.

He saw again the scenery and the architecture which were inseparably associated in his mind with the recollections of childhood and the sacred feeling of home; the dreary mounds of sand, shells and weeds, on which the waves of the German Ocean broke; the interminable meadows intersected by trenches; the straight canals; the villas bright with paint and adorned with quaint images and inscriptions.