The woman cared for me quite frequently, although I had no clock to mark the passing hours, nor was there any sunshine by which to conjecture the time of day. During my convalescence she let me wear a white cotton jacket which had starched pleating around the neck and down the front. This bed jacket was far too large for me, but it was her best. The sheets on my bed were of a coarse cotton; so was the pillow case. The latter was edged with a peasant lace and was buttoned together. Over the sheet, she had placed a warm army blanket.
The room was dark, day hardly distinguishable from night. The little window high up near the ceiling was covered on the outside with hay, as I later discovered. A little light did penetrate into this dugout, but at night she hung a dark cloth over this pane. My eyes were sore from the lighted candle and I put it out except when she cared for me. I had no book or magazine or newspaper. No calendar to mark the time of year or the day of the month. I had no idea whether it was summer or fall. My room was always cool and damp and the days long.
As I lay in this dark mustiness, I had time to think about everything that took place during my seventeen years with my dear family. There were so many sudden changes in the political hysteria, that I wondered if in my thoughts I was confused! It was unbelievable that actually such developments really had taken place. One day I asked the woman, whether all the turmoil was a reality or just a nightmare!
“No!” she replied, “it is true.”
Propped up in bed, from this vantage point, I was able to see and hear the man, should he ever come back. I would judge whether he was friend or foe. Whatever the man might be, I was sure the woman had nothing to do with my rescue beyond the determination to make me well. But I remember the words, “You see how careful we must be.” That sounded as if they were working together. Perhaps others were involved, others saved? When the man should come back I was determined to find out all the events from him, from my last recollection to the present time. The questions they had asked me gave me hope that Tatiana had been saved.
Absorbed in these thoughts, I was unaware that someone had come down the ladder until I suddenly realized the man stood beside me. Behind him was the woman holding a lighted candle. Waves of fresh, sweet air wafted out from his clothes.
“Good evening,” he said, “it is cool outside.” “How do you feel?” he asked.
My lips said, “Better, thank you,” but all the time I was thinking, he sounds friendly. I will ask him.
Before I could open my mouth to form the words, his manner became serious, almost severe. “Never speak out loud,” he warned. “Only in a whisper. It is very dangerous.”
He wheeled around and was gone up the ladder without another word. The woman followed.