The attitude of all the soldiers changed immediately; they looked at me with angry eyes, and from time to time I heard hostile remarks. Whenever I did not walk quickly enough or turned a little to the right or the left, my escort pulled me roughly by the arm. All the same I took the case as coolly as possible, fully convinced that the commanding officer would release me after a superficial examination.
At Riemst, the soldier took, or rather pummelled me into a large farm-house, and soon I faced the bigwigs, who had made themselves as comfortable as possible in a large room. Several pictures and engravings lay on the ground in pieces, whilst numerous full and empty wine-bottles indicated that they had abundantly worshipped at the shrine of Bacchus, and intended to go on with the cult. The higher officers and the subalterns seemed to be frantically busy; at least they had violent discussions with many gesticulations over a map. The soldier reported that he had brought me here by order of Lieutenant Such—I did not catch the name—and then it began:
"Who are you?"
"I am...."
"What do you want here—what are you here for?"
"I am a Netherland jour...."
"What! A Netherlander? I suppose you come to see how many troops are here, don't you? And then...."
"Please be good enough to have a look at my papers, and then...."
"Papers? Papers? Yes, of course you all have papers; all those villains who shot at our men at Visé come back from The Netherlands with papers, in order to start afresh. Later on I'll have a look at that stuff. Here, lock him up for the present."