The first thing a Belgian does, as soon
as he enters a carriage, is to shut the windows, and the rule is that
if by any chance there were, say, five people who wanted a window
open, and only one who wanted it shut, that one can refuse to let the
others have it open. If you are sitting near a window, and open it,
you may be sure that someone, who is perhaps sitting at the other end
of the carriage, will step across and shut it. They never ask leave,
or, indeed, say a word; they just shut it.
One day, two or three years ago, there was a great crowd in a district
train. It was July, and very hot. All the windows of one first-class
carriage were, as usual, shut, and it was so stifling that some of us
stood outside on the platform so as to get some fresh air. A feeble
old lady chanced to be sitting next one of the windows, and wished to
open it. All the other passengers refused to allow her. She told them
she felt as if she would faint from the heat. Not one of the Belgian
ladies and gentlemen, who were all well-dressed people, cared about
that. They just shrugged their shoulders. At last the old lady, who
had been turning very pale, fainted away.
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