By the time he did so I was in Saxony. But here again it was too dangerous to go near Lindenhof in a kingdom where my misfortunes had been the subject of so much publicity. At last we remembered a little village close to the frontier, on the side nearest Munich, where the regime was less rigorous than in the vicinity of Dresden, and we arrived there without anything untoward happening. The present difficulty was not so much in crossing Germany. It chiefly consisted in solving the question of the possibility of my being able to stay in some retired spot without my identity being discovered and notified, and afterwards to cross the frontier without a passport and gain safety at Budapest. This Odyssey alone would make a volume. It terminated in a Bavarian village where I breathed freely once more. A good woman extended the kindest hospitality towards me and my faithful Olga. The count's messenger still continued to watch over my welfare, and found accommodation for himself in the vicinity. From my window I could see the church steeple of the Austrian village through which I must pass in order to reach Salzburg, Vienna and Hungary. I was now on the borders of the Promised Land. A little wood separated me from it, at the extremity of which flowed a brook well known to the contrabandists, since it separated Bavaria from Austria, and served them by night as a means of transit. I dared not risk it! It would be necessary for me to cross a bridge constantly guarded by a sentry. But once over the bridge I should have left Germany behind me! When I happened to be near Munich, I had regained possession of two favourite dogs. My love of dogs is well known. I did not wish to be separated from these, and I had an intuition that they would be of use to me in my flight. I thought tenderly of the clever Kiki, now a prisoner at Bad-Elster. His successors, like himself, would surely bring me luck! One was a big sheep-dog, the other a little griffon. At first I hesitated to go near the bridge for fear lest I should be recognized. Then I reflected that it would seem suspicious to a sentry on duty if I always remained some distance away. My best method would be not to hide from the sentries, but to walk constantly with my dogs in their proximity. The soldiers (the same ones were always on duty) would soon get accustomed to seeing me, and in their eyes I should only represent an inoffensive inhabitant of the village. The count's envoy begged me to hasten my departure. I refused. He advised a nocturnal flight. I did not agree with him. I said: "I shall go when I see fit, at my own time, when I _feel_ that the propitious moment has arrived." It is curious, but it is nevertheless true, that I always experience a weird kind of intuition under difficulties. It is exactly as if some inner voice advised me what course to pursue. And whenever I have obeyed this intuition I have always been right. One morning I awakened under the domination of my unseen guide.