Just the moment I finished breakfast this morning, I dashed into town, that is, as fast as an old tramcar could take me, to the American Consul. In my impatience, I fancy I must have rung his bell several times, though it was really a long while before the servant opened the door and showed me in to the library. Then Mr. Z. (a German-sounding name), the Consul, appeared, unshaven and with the evidence of his morning meal upon his face—it was yellow.But nothing mattered to me and I plunged into the subject of getting a passport for to-morrow without preliminaries. Perhaps I took the poor man's breath away, for certainly he was not nearly as enthusiastic as I about it. In fact, he embarked upon a dissertation pertaining to the invaders which made me cry out in astonishment, "Why, you surprise me, you seem to have pro-enemy tendencies." "Well," he said, "they've done everything they've said they have, haven't they?"

I asked him if he had seen LouvignÉ or VisÉ yet and he said, "No, I haven't ben up t' VisÉ yet."

All this, however, was far from the point in question and I finally got back to it by informing him of the good fortune I was going to have to-morrow in getting away to Holland in the Dutch Consul's automobile if I could get my passport from the Germans. It did not occur to me that there would be any difficulty about it, so I calmly asked him if he could get it for me by six o'clock to-night?

"Oh, no," he replied, "I could not get it before two or three days."

"But," I protested, aghast, "I am going to-morrow and it is a chance in a thousand; I may not have another such opportunity during the war. Could you not make an especial effort to get it for me?"

"Well," he answered, "I'll do what I can but I won't promise anything. I'm not agoing to ask any favors of those people," i.e., the Germans.

"It is not a favor," I replied, "it is your right. For what other reason is an American Consul if he is not to protect his people, particularly in wartime?"

"Oh, my dear young lady," he answered, "you must not think that you are the only American in LiÉge."

"How many are there?" indignantly.

"Well, three or four," he replied, reluctantly.

That was really too much! I was in despair. What was to be done? Seeing my hope of freedom vanishing before my eyes, I clutched at the last straw and entreated him with what eloquence I could whip into line to make at least some effort to get me the passport by six o'clock, when I would come again to his house for it.

"Oh, no," he said quickly, "I don't get back here until eight o'clock, but if you happen to pass by 'The Golden Lion' (or some such name) you might find me there."

Choking with rage I said to him, "I see that you cannot help me, Mr. Z., but if you will be good enough to give me your card (he had already suggested it) to the German passport department, I will go to the Kommandantur myself and see what I can do; in fact, I am sure I can accomplish far more than you." He ought to have been affronted at this but, on the contrary, seemed jolly well pleased and handed me out his card in a hurry, glad to relieve himself of the obligation of asking any favors of "those people."

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."

I detached myself from the crowd and stepped behind the rail, horribly conscious of unpleasant scrutiny. My face got hotter and hotter and I could only see a host of uplifted Belgian eyebrows. Even the clerks looked up and stared, unaccustomed as they evidently were to Herr Bauer's benignity. And I had to bear all that humiliation because—well, why?

Having exposed the facts, I will give you the privilege to form your own opinion which will be every bit as good as mine, I know.

11 P. M. My passport signed, sealed and written all over by the Imperial Government, is in my hand. I shall dream of long journeys, of bitter struggles and at last—freedom! Will the daylight never come?