“Vous avez traversé la frontière,” the guard interrupted him and once again shone the light in Silbermann’s face. “Il faut retourner!”

“Je suis un refugié,” Silbermann continued, his voice hoarse. “Je suis juif.”

“Tiens, tiens,” the guard replied. “Mais quand-même. Vous n’avez pas le droit de passer la frontière. Il faut venir avec un visa. Alors, venez!”

In the meantime the other guard had arrived. “You have to go back to Germany.”

“But I’m a refugee—I’m Jewish. They wanted to arrest me. They’ll lock me up in a concentration camp.”

“We’re not allowed to let you through. Come with us!” The man grabbed him by the arm and started leading him back to the forest.

The guard who had discovered him carried Silbermann’s suitcase and left the talking to his colleague.

When they reached the road Silbermann stopped. “I protest!” he said. “I’m staying here! You don’t have the right, you’re not allowed to do this! I’m in a free country!”

“You crossed the border illegally.”

“I had no choice—I was persecuted.”

“But everybody can’t just come to Belgium!”

“I have papers. I have money. Wait, let me show you…”

“Come on!” the guard shoved him ahead.

But Silbermann resisted. “You have to understand,” he said. “I can no longer go back. I only intended to stay one day in Belgium. My son lives in Paris. I want to go to Paris to join him!”

“Explain that to the Belgian consul in Germany! We have orders…”

“But I’m not going back! I demand to be taken to the guardhouse! It’s not my fault I had to cross the border illegally. I’m being persecuted.”

“It’s not Belgium’s fault. We’re sorry…”

They had crossed the road. Silbermann stopped again.

“I can’t go back!” he said. “It’s impossible!” He turned to the guard who was carrying his suitcase.

“Mais oui, mon ami, that’s completely possible,” the man calmly replied.

Silbermann suddenly tore himself away from them. “Do what you want,” he cried.“I’m staying … je reste … je reste!”

“If you don’t go back voluntarily we’ll have to put you on a train in Herbesthal. The next station is in Germany, and there the German authorities will…”

“You can’t do that!”

“Mais oui!”

For a moment all three were silent. Then the two guards grabbed him vigorously by the arms and shoved him ahead.

“You know the way!” said the man who had discovered him. “Just don’t come back!”

“Or else we’ll have to put you on that train to Germany!” the other added.

They had reached the edge of the forest, but Silbermann was mistaken if he thought the guards would then leave him alone. They continued to escort him. Once again he stopped.

“I’m not going,” he declared with desperate energy. “I won’t stay longer than one day. I promise you I’ll travel on immediately. I have everything. Money, papers. I’m not a poor man. You have to understand, they’ll arrest me. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to kill myself. Belgium is my last hope. Gentlemen, I beg you, I’ve never broken the law in my life!”