I then made my way to the _Palais de Justice_. A man accosted me in the square and told me if I were going for passports it would be of no use, as there were hundreds and hundreds of people there before me. But I kept on. With the glorious end in view, viz., to be a free person and to see the scenes that, in a morbid way, I had begun to feel would never be my privilege again, I kept on, threading a path through the throngs until I stood right in front of the guard of the sacred chamber. He was an enormously fat sentry, with the usual little round cap and fixed bayonet. I thought he would eat me, he looked so offended, and roared out, "_Nein, nein, das Zimmer ist voll._" Then was my moment. I pulled out the little white card and addressed him--not too timidly either, for hadn't I the great American people behind me? He caught the words, "American Consul," which drew him up to salute and in the most lamb-like voice he murmured, "_Ach, ja, Amerikaner_," and let me pass. I cast one look at the multitude back of me--poor things, who may have stood there two days already, and I felt despicably mean, as if I were not playing fair. Once inside, I was put through a category of questions, worse than an "Inkwhich." "Why had I come to Liége?" "How long had I been there?" "Why did I want to go away?" "Where to?" "How?" etc. Finally my inquisitor became suspicious, or feigned it, and said, "But what have I to prove that you are an American?" Then I was furious and I answered, "Monsieur (I suppose he hated the French appellation), since you have the card of the American Consul asserting it, in your hand, is not such a question an indignity to my government?" He answered with a wry smile and said nothing. At 4 P. M. I returned for my passport with half a dozen photographs to be affixed thereto. I had no difficulty in getting into the _Bureau des Passeports_ as I still had the Consul's card upon which Herr Bauer, one of the German secretaries, had scribbled some mysterious symbols which probably meant "let her pass," or its equivalent. At any rate, the sentry and I regarded each other superciliously and I skidded past his saw-toothed bayonet without hurt. When I entered the crowded room I saw that I was about fiftieth in the line and I said to myself that if I waited my turn I should still be there at midnight. Luckily, an idea came to me, and waving that fateful little white card in the air, I called out over the heads of everybody, "Oh, Herr Bauer." A Belgian gentleman standing next me was quick enough to catch the name and shouted out also, "Herr Bauer." But Herr Bauer was far too clever for him and said with a mocking smile, "Ah, no, Monsieur, you will have to wait your turn. Mademoiselle, come this way."