I was going to ship these through by express; but at the last moment an order went throughout Germany forbidding the moving of any parcels by train unless the owner went with them.  This was a bad outlook.  We must take these things along, and the delay sure to be caused by the examination of them in the custom-house might lose us our train.  I imagined all sorts of terrors, and enlarged them steadily as we approached the Italian frontier.  We were six in number, clogged with all that baggage, and I was courier for the party the most incapable one they ever employed.

We arrived, and pressed with the crowd into the immense custom-house, and the usual worries began; everybody crowding to the counter and begging to have his baggage examined first, and all hands clattering and chattering at once.  It seemed to me that I could do nothing; it would be better to give it all up and go away and leave the baggage.  I couldn’t speak the language; I should never accomplish anything.  Just then a tall handsome man in a fine uniform was passing by and I knew he must be the station-master—­and that reminded me of my letter.  I ran to him and put it into his hands.  He took it out of the envelope, and the moment his eye caught the royal coat of arms printed at its top, he took off his cap and made a beautiful bow to me, and said in English: 

“Which is your baggage?  Please show it to me.”

I showed him the mountain.  Nobody was disturbing it; nobody was interested in it; all the family’s attempts to get attention to it had failed—­except in the case of one of the trunks containing the dutiable goods.  It was just being opened.  My officer said: 

“There, let that alone!  Lock it.  Now chalk it.  Chalk all of the lot.  Now please come and show the hand-baggage.”

He plowed through the waiting crowd, I following, to the counter, and he gave orders again, in his emphatic military way: 

“Chalk these.  Chalk all of them.”

Then he took off his cap and made that beautiful bow again, and went his way.  By this time these attentions had attracted the wonder of that acre of passengers, and the whisper had gone around that the royal family were present getting their baggage chalked; and as we passed down in review on our way to the door, I was conscious of a pervading atmosphere of envy which gave me deep satisfaction.

But soon there was an accident.  My overcoat pockets were stuffed with German cigars and linen packages of American smoking tobacco, and a porter was following us around with this overcoat on his arm, and gradually getting it upside down.  Just as I, in the rear of my family, moved by the sentinels at the door, about three hatfuls of the tobacco tumbled out on the floor.  One of the soldiers pounced upon it, gathered it up in his arms, pointed back whence I had come, and marched me ahead of him past that long wall of passengers again—­he chattering and exulting like a devil, they smiling in peaceful joy, and I trying to look as if my pride was not hurt, and as if I did not mind being brought to shame before these pleased people who had so lately envied me.  But at heart I was cruelly humbled.