“After passing through ploughed fields and wet grass and grain for some time a small by-path crossed from the main road.  Our guide beckoned us back, while he went forward each way to see that all was clear, and then we crossed and proceeded again over ploughed fields and through the clover.  It now began to rain which, disagreeable as it was, I did not regret, all things considered.  We soon came to another and wider cross-path; we stopped and our guide went forward again in the same cautious manner, stooping down and listening, like an Indian, near the ground.  He beckoned us to cross over and again we traversed the fields, passing by the base of a small hill, when, as we softly crept up the side, we saw the form of a sentinel against the light of the sky.  Our guide whispered, ‘Doucement’ again, and we gently retreated, my companion whispering to me, ’Tres dangereux, monsieur, tres desagreable.’

“We took a wider circuit behind some small buildings, and at length came into one of the smaller streets in the outskirts of Forbach.  Here were what appeared to me barracks.  The caution was given to walk softly and separately (we were all, fortunately, in dark clothes), our guide passing first round the corners, and, having passed the sentry-boxes, in which, with one exception, we saw no person, and in this instance the sentinel did not hail us (but this was in the city), we came to a house at the window of which our guide tapped.  A man opened it, and, after some explanation, ascertaining who we were, opened the door and, striking a light, set some wine and bread before us.

“Here we remained for some time to recover breath after our perilous adventure, for, if one of the sentinels had seen us, we should in all probability have been instantly shot.  I knew not that we were now entirely free from the danger of being arrested, until we heard our carriage in the street and had ascertained that all our luggage had passed the douane without suspicion.  We paid our guide eight francs each, and, taking our seats again in the carriage, drove forward toward Metz.”

There were no further adventures, although they trembled with anxiety every time their passports were called for.  Morse regretted having been innocently led into this escapade, and would have made a clean breast of it to the police, as he had not been near Frankfort, but he feared to compromise his travelling companion who had come from that city.

On September 12 they finally arrived in Paris.

“How changed are the circumstances of this city since I was last here nearly two years ago.  A traitor king has been driven into exile; blood has flowed in its streets, the price of its liberty; our friend, the nation’s guest, whom I then saw at his house, with apparently little influence and out of favor with the court, the great Lafayette, is now second only to the king in honor and influence as the head of a powerful party.  These and a thousand other kindred reflections, relating also to my own circumstances, crowd upon me at the moment of again entering this famous city.”