Every evening for some two weeks I was questioned. Each period of questioning lasted about an hour. When each bout was ended I was burning as with a fever. The questions were personal and plentiful. The subjects were continually changed, covering the entire Imperial family and the palace staff, as well as the household employees. Many of these questions seemed so impertinent to me that one night I burst out, “Why are you asking me all this?” They replied, “We only want to know.”
Gradually I began to take in my outdoor surroundings. Not far away I saw a haystack. Beyond it, a dark vastness, perhaps a forest or low hills. During my walks around the house, I noticed that it was square and squat like most peasant houses. I gathered it was made of wood. The roof was shingled. I tried to find my tiny window and finally located it behind the camouflage of hay. I could hardly see it. Now I understood why my room was so dark.
The house stood some distance from the road and a long dirt driveway extended from the road to the rear of the house. To one side was a large shed, perhaps a barn, which apparently did not house any animals since I heard no sounds from it Occasionally I did hear lowing herds in the distance. Perhaps one of these cows was responsible for the milk I received each day. There were no signs of horses or chickens. But several times I heard a faint train-whistle in the distance. I never saw any arrivals or departures. Did these men come from the neighboring houses and walk across the fields? What went on in this house was a complete mystery to me. Did these two men and the woman live in this house? There was another young woman. Was she behind the ill-fitting door? I had only seen the hall and the question room, but I felt sure there was another room in the house. The furnishings I saw were meagre. Perhaps this was an abandoned farmhouse or discarded servants’ quarters attached to someone’s estate. The outside, too, had a deserted appearance. I noticed some hay scattered near the house. My observations were all based on what little I could see in the darkness. I felt sure these people were in someone’s service, or they were using the place as a temporary hideout.
The men became quite friendly. The woman continued her silent care of me. The men talked freely, even joked about my recovery. Without warning, the question I had always suppressed, suddenly broke out. “Why did you rescue me?” I inquired.
The faces of both men turned red. The man I first met was shocked. The second man’s eyes blazed with fury. “What is it that you want to know?” he said.
My feelings were deeply hurt at this coarse reply. My fears returned in full force. The worst must lie ahead.
It was obvious that I must soon go away, otherwise these people would pay the penalty. Now I wanted to stay in my dugout forever. It was mine and I was part of it. I would inscribe my name here, but where exactly? I had nothing with which to write, no crayon, pen or pencil. There was a hairpin on the table. Quickly I was out of bed and standing on the rug. I pulled out the small drawer and set it upside down on my bed and began scratching my name with the hairpin. I bore down with all my strength on the bottom of the drawer and formed the letters and numbers: “A.N.R. 1918.” It could not have been a legible signature but, such as it was, there it would stay, a witness to my habitation, these hairpin hieroglyphics.
A few days after this incident the woman seemed to take unusual pains with my grooming. She braided my hair smoothly. She gave me a fresh pillow which had a lace edging, sat me up and dressed me in one of her jackets. She arranged my covers neatly. By the time she had finished the men were already descending the ladder.
The first man took a small kodak from his pocket and after lighting several candles snapped my picture. A few days later they returned with several prints. I had one of these until it disappeared with my manuscript. The clearest object in the picture was the lace on the pillow case. How different I looked! My nose was still swollen, my jaw caved in, my eyes had many light dots.
“Isn’t it a splendid likeness?” the spokesman was saying.