It was quite dark when we reached Culoz.  As the train arrived at the platform, and we were obliged again to change cars, I thought of the friendly restaurant; but no! the restaurant was closed, and moreover a company of gendarmes was present to see that every one entered the door leading to the custom-house.  There was no room for hesitation or delay.  I entered under protest, but still I entered.

In a moment I perceived the desperate situation.  The room had two doors—­one opening upon the platform from which we had just come, and now guarded by an officer; the other leading to the opposite platform, and there stood the custom-house officer receiving and inspecting the passports.  It was indeed Scylla and Charybdis.  If I attempted to pass the officer without a passport, I was undone; if I remained until all the other passengers had passed out, I was undone.  For an instant I felt as if I had better give up the unequal contest.  The forces of the enemy were too many for me.  I saw that I had been captured:  why fight against Fate?  A moment’s reflection, however, restored my courage.  It was evident that one thing alone remained to be done:  that was to find my way out of the door by which I had just entered, as speedily as possible.  But there stood the guard.

The train by which we had come was still before the platform:  an idea suggested itself.  Acting as if I had left some article in the train, I stepped hurriedly up to the guard, who, catching my meaning, made way for me without a word.  Once upon the platform, I resolved never again to enter that door except as a prisoner.  The guard followed me with his eyes for a moment, and then, seeing me open one of the carriage doors, turned back to his post.  As soon as I perceived that I was no longer watched I glided off in the opposite direction under the shadows of the platform.  I was looking for a certain door which I remembered well as a friend in need.  I knew not in which direction it lay, nor could I have recognized it if shut; but hardly had I gone ten steps when the same door stood open before me.  It was the act of an instant to spring through it, out of sight of the guard.  Why this door and baggage-room should have been left thus open and unguarded when such evident and scrutinizing care was taken in every other quarter, I have to this day been unable to understand.  But for that fact I should have found it utterly impossible to pass that custom-house going or coming.

Once in the baggage-room, the way was familiar, and, passing into the second room, I found the door open as on the day previous, and in a moment stood undiscovered upon the platform.  Entering the waiting train, I was soon on the way to Belgarde.