“I have no idea what the gentleman wants from me,” Silbermann now explained.

“Perhaps you said he was Jewish?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Silbermann answered, bewildered.

“If you had he probably would have clobbered you. Because he isn’t, you see.”

“I won’t have people staring at me as if I were squinty eyed and had moneybags strapped on in front and back,” said the man, now more conciliatory. “I’m in the party just like everybody else!”

“I had no intention of offending you,” Silbermann assured the man. Then he turned around and went into the dining car where he ate his midday meal, which brightened his mood considerably. After much deliberation he finally resolved to go to Küstrin, to consult with his wife about the immediate future.

Maybe I can stay there a few days, until the worst is over, he hoped. He also planned to call his son again.

I’m never again going to try crossing the border illegally, he determined. It’s clear I’m only suited for an ordinary life and not cut out for extraordinary adventures. He recalled the scene in the forest near the border and the return march that followed. Then again, maybe I should have made one more attempt, he thought. Maybe it would have succeeded. Will I ever again make it out of German territory? he asked himself. Even though it had proven futile, he now recalled the previous day’s exploit with amazement that bordered on admiration.

Viewed from the dining car, his adventure lost much of its drama, and what in the moment seemed like a fierce life-or-death struggle now became a memory that while it still weighed on him, was less tragic—to the point of being comical. Which made the defeat somewhat less dispiriting.

It could have turned out a lot worse, he thought. I could have been caught by German guards. Besides, I’m not the only one hurt by how things turned out. Because now it’s daytime again, and the Belgian officials can see each other’s faces.

This was very satisfying to imagine, and he dwelled on the idea for quite some time. Twenty thousand marks I offered them, he thought. I must have been out of my mind. What was I supposed to give the next official who stopped me, and the one after that, and the one after that one? He smiled. In any case, he mused, I’m a lot tougher than I realize.

He paid and left. He very much hoped not to run into the man who had stood up to Silbermann’s “anti-Semitism,” and he didn’t.