nt. To her inquiry he replied that there would be
no objection under the circumstances to my returning to Geneva and
procuring my passport. Encouraged by the favorable turn my fortunes
had taken, I asked, through my friend, if it would be possible for me
to go on without a passport. An instantaneous change passed over his
countenance, and, shrugging his shoulders, he replied that it was
impossible: there was a second custom-house at Culoz, where I should
certainly be stopped, forced to explain how I had passed Belgarde, and
severely punished for attempting to enter without a passport. I did
not, however, wait for him to finish his angry harangue, but passed on
to the second room, where I was soon joined by my interpreting friend,
who explained to me in full what I had already learned from the
officer's countenance and gesture. She thought that I was fortunate in
escaping so easily, and advised an immediate return to Geneva. I again
consulted my guide-book, and found that there was no return train for
several hours, and consequently that I should arrive in Geneva too
late to start for Aix-les-Bains that night. This would necessitate
waiting until Thursday, and perhaps force me to give up the trip, for
our seats were engaged in the Chamouni coach for Friday morning. I
imagined my friends in vain awaiting my arrival at Aix, and the smiles
of our party when they found me in Geneva upon their return from the
lake. But, more than all, the possibility of not reaching Aix at all
troubled me, for I was very anxious to see my friends there, and had
written home that I intended to see them.

I found by my guide-book that our train reached Culoz before the
Geneva return train; so on the instant I formed the desperate resolve
of running the blockade at Belgarde, and if I found it impossible to
pass the custom-house at Culoz, _there_ to take the return train for
Geneva. I walked to the platform as if merely accompanying my friend,
stood for a moment at the door of the carriage conversing with her,
and then, as the train started for Culoz, quickly stepped in and shut
the door. Her dismay was really pitiable: had I not been somewhat
troubled in mind myself, I should have laughed outright. She saw
nothing before me but certain destruction, and I am free to confess
that the prospect of a telegram flashing over the wires at that moment
from Belgarde to Culoz was not reassuring. The die, however, had
been cast, and now nothing remained but