We began to hurry. One gathered the list of names, another threw our appeals into a basket: “There is a corner of my house where they won’t look for them, I shall hide them there.” Another tied some documents together: “My husband will hide them somewhere in the National Museum.” “I will take these to a decorator who has hidden many other dangerous documents,” said the secretary. I wrote a farewell letter to my collaborators at the long table on which I had done so much work. “We won’t dissolve and we won’t cease to exist. Let everyone continue our work as best she can till we meet again. And if there is any trouble and anyone is persecuted, say that I am the cause of all.” A girl leant against a cupboard and covered her eyes, while two others dragged a heavy basket through the door: it contained our office outfit. Suppressed sobs were audible near the wall underneath the high crucifix. We shook hands, no one said a word, and they let me go alone. But when I turned back from the door I saw they were all looking after me. The guardians of the house were some quiet, gentle nuns. I knocked at their door and the Mother Superior opened it as if she expected me. “I thank you for your hospitality and pray your forgiveness if our presence brings you misfortune.” “Nothing happens but what God wills,” answered the nun, with a resigned expression on her gentle face bordered with white veiling. Meanwhile the soldiers had retired from the vicinity of the house, so I, as usual, bent my way towards home. Only when I reached the beginning of my street did I realize what I was doing. It was too late to turn back. Something attracted me painfully, as though my heart were attached to an invisible thread which was being drawn rapidly towards the further end of the street. There it was that I used to turn in other times when I felt weary. If only I could go there, just for the time necessary to open the door, look in, and nod. And the thread pulled me harder and harder, with ever increasing tension. I crossed the street. Just one more step to be nearer. Just one more! As I leant forward I put my hand to the wall of a strange house. For an instant I perceived our entrance and saw the windows shining above. I looked at each of them separately. The fifth was that of a room of many memorable evenings, my mother’s window. I bowed to it, as if in greeting. Someone quite near to me bowed at the same time. What was that? It was only my shadow that followed my movements on the sunlit wall. Had anybody observed me? How ridiculous I must have seemed! With hastened steps, very fast, I returned to those who had given me shelter.