We were not far from the frontier, and crossed it an hour later, subsequently arriving at Virton, a little Belgian town which was swarming with French. Here we said good-bye to M. Thiébeaux and his friend M. Jeannot and took the first diligence for the nearest station on the Luxemburg railway, by which we arrived at ten or eleven at night at Brussels. If I were to let myself be carried away by my memories, I would here throw a sidelight on the remarkable but saddening aspect of the Belgian capital, which was the temporary home of so many Frenchmen and the seat of so many diverse and conflicting passions, hopes, and fears. But what would be the use? I will say no more than that the city of Brussels was crowded with people. It was full of Frenchmen and particularly Parisians. The faces of the stout Flemish burghers were bright and radiant and broader than usual; they were delighted with the golden flow of business, but, none the less, had no love for the French who brought them all this gold. The Belgian capital, which I had often before visited and which had always charmed me by its beauty and elegance, then seemed to me ugly and hateful, and I only stayed there for as long as was absolutely necessary to get things in order for my departure. CHAPTER IX A SPY AT DIEPPE Before leaving for Austria, I had to go to Tours, where the Delegates of the National Defence Government were at this time sitting. I had therefore to go back to France, and could only do so by going a long way round. Part of the north was already occupied. The trains no longer went regularly, and in order to get from Brussels to Tours I had to slip through a great many obstacles and often leave the railway and have recourse to carriages. There was no lack of episodes on the road, but they were not gay ones and I prefer not to speak about them. The country was in a fever and disorganised, and to a large extent occupied and ruined. Where the enemy had not yet come they were expected, and the days were anxiously counted which were to bring the first Uhlans. “Spies” were suspected everywhere, just as in Paris, where I saw a crowd gather one night before a house in the Boulevard Montmartre, and where a cruel injustice would that night have been committed if the police had not intervened in time to clear up the mistake.