“Here at least is something that we can read!” said the detective in a satisfied tone; “now, I arrest you!” “Why? What for?” asked I, much astonished. “That you will soon find out; come along!” was the answer. The procedure of the police agent was extraordinary in every way: no attempt was made to fulfil the legal enactments for the protection of personal safety; the domiciliary search was instituted without legal warrant; there were no witnesses. I insisted on the officer’s counting over in my presence the money in my pocket-book, which they had confiscated, though of course that was not much guarantee for the security of my property. As I was descending the steps of the hotel, a prisoner between my two guardian angels, a young lady carrying a small travelling-bag met us. The detective asked me if this were my wife, and, notwithstanding my reply in the negative, tried to seize hold of her. She evidently thought she had to do with some Don Juan, and fled screaming into the street; whereupon the detective ordered the policeman to lead me on, and himself followed the unknown lady. The policeman now tried to take me by the arm, and so conduct me through the streets, but I hotly resisted such treatment, declaring that I had committed no crime, and that he had no possible justification for putting me in such a position. We arrived at last at the House of Detention. Here I was searched again, and for the first time since my arrest was questioned by an official as to my personal identity. My detective soon appeared, bringing the lady, who, weeping bitterly, protested her absolute innocence, and indignantly demanded the explanation of such an insult. Coming on the top of all my own experiences since my arrival in Freiburg this scene put me into a state of fury. “What is all this?” cried I to the police officer. “How can you take upon yourself to insult this lady? I repeat again that I do not know her; she is not my wife, and I have never set eyes on her in my life before.” “Well, we shall see about that. It is my business. It is no affair of yours whom we arrest,” declared he; and I thought to myself, “This is a nice state of things! We might as well be in Russia.” I was then told to follow a warder, who took me up to the first floor. The lock of a cell-door turned, grating, and I found myself installed in the Grand-Ducal prison of Baden.