are right.”  We protested that we were Americans, but the spokesman said he was unconvinced, and as he pressed for further evidence I gave way to my companion whose readier French could deal better with the situation.  He demanded to see our passports with which fortunately we were both provided; I had not thought of a passport as a necessity, and almost by chance had procured one the week before from our Minister in Switzerland, a careful description, vouching for my American citizenship, signed and sealed by the United States official.  This perhaps saved my life.  We surrendered our passports to our interrogator; he carried them back to the throng behind him who were now glowering angrily at us, as they chattered among themselves.  Half-amused and half-alarmed, we waited while the documents were passed from hand to hand, carefully conned and inspected.  We could not believe that we were in danger, here in the bright day in beautiful Paris, with the sacred towers of Notre Dame soaring close at hand.  There were no gendarmes on the boat or on the quays, but how could it he that we needed protection?  After a quarter of an hour’s suspense, during which there had been a voluble counselling among the group, the spokesman came forth again with our passports in hand carefully folded, these he returned to us, touching his hat with a stiff and formal bow.  “We have persuaded ourselves,” said he, “that you are what you claim to be, Americans, and it is fortunate for you that it is so, for we had intended to throw you into the Seine as Prussian spies.”  Here was a surprise indeed!  The group then dispersed about the boat apparently satisfied.  Still rather amused than alarmed we pocketed our passports.  Under the arch of one of the stately bridges close by, the Seine flowed in heavy shadows on its way, and we looked down upon the dark waters.  Throbbing with life as we were, could it be possible that we had just escaped a grave in its watery embrace?  Presently we landed light-hearted, and were again in the streets, but in days that followed immediately my heart was often in my throat, as I read in the papers of the corpses of men taken out of the river who undoubtedly had been thrown in under suspicion of being German spies.  After a sojourn of not quite a week in Paris we made up our minds it was no place for us.  My plans for study were quite broken up, it was scarcely possible to get back to Germany and nothing could be done in France.  I had letters which in a time of peace would have opened the way for me to many a pleasant circle.  My intention had been to study for some time in France, but under the circumstances it would be a comfortable thing to have the Atlantic rolling between me and Europe, and therefore, I prepared to depart for home.  At the pension, on the day I had fixed for departure, while coming down the staircase waxed and highly polished, I slipped and fell heavily, so bruising my knee that I was nearly crippled.  Fortunately