My host and I wept together. I breathed a prayer of gratitude to God for such a sympathetic and good friend. We had many talks together, but we did not touch on the subject so delicate to both of us. For the present neither of us felt equal to it. I wanted to hear of my rescue, yet again I did not, because of my family. He avoided the subject, fearing the effect the truth might have on me. We did talk of my life beneath the house. I told him of the excellent care the woman had given me, and said I was frightened by the various questions the men asked me.
“They questioned you?”, he said. “What about?”
“About my family, the imprisonment,” I answered. He was surprised at this news.
“Do you think they knew who you were?”
“Yes.” I said, “They never came out with it, but, judging from their questions, I suspected they had guessed.”
“Then we must leave immediately,” he said. “There will be trouble.”
He seemed agitated and called Marushka to get things ready. It was the third evening I had been with my host. Now we must cut short the week of delay we had both looked forward to.
On the fourth day, long before dawn, my host and I took to the road. It was early September, by the Russian calendar. I became aware of the date from a calendar hung in Marushka’s room. She used the previous year’s calendar, having changed the dates on it. Marushka, weeping as she did so often because of the loss of her husband, saw us to the door. We said a quick good-bye, and the little dog stood puzzled. It was hard to shut the door in the face of my little friend.
We were off. I carried nothing. My host carried a small canvas bag containing some food and a salve for his wound. We walked without event, and by late morning we were near a small town. My companion was quiet. At times he did not seem sure which road we should take. We rested about an hour; then suddenly he said, “I know now where we are. I see the church steeple over there.” He began to tell me that he was familiar with this part of the country. After walking several more hours, we came upon the ruin of a factory. We sat on the fallen bricks and ate our lunch. We had bread, hard-boiled eggs and a bottle of sour milk, and we purchased some apples.
For the first time, I knew approximately where we were. Passing the ancient city of Ufa, high up on the banks at the junction of the Ufa and Belaya Rivers, we had a beautiful view. We could see the vast stone quarries and stone cutting mills spread before our eyes. There were many chimneys, a witness to the size of Russian industries. But no smoke came out of them.