After we had traveled north for about half a day we came to a ferry, where we resolved to part ways. I went into the carriage and kissed Dr. von Pfung and said some words to him – though all words, especially ones improvised in haste, seemed inadequate, and the doctor managed to say more with his eyes and his one good hand than I did with my entire faculties. I changed once again into a man's clothes, hoping to pass myself off as a page to Hans and Joachim, and mounted a pony we'd borrowed from the stables of Étienne d'Arcachon. After some haggling with the ferryman – who was loath to venture across through the regimental traffic – the carriage was driven onto the ferry, its wheels were chocked, the horses hobbled, and the short voyage across the Meuse began.