I have been with her almost daily as long as I can remember, yet it was only this evening that I really learned to appreciate her. She had never asked for anything and yet was always ready to give. She never spoke of herself and listened to everybody. She had no words of endearment, she kissed vaguely and her arms were rarely caressing. She was never demonstrative, the seat of her affections was her heart and not her lips. And while we were walking side by side through the dark night on our short, sad road, I felt that if this heart were one day to stop, then mine would throb but haltingly ever after. We had passed the house which had given me shelter. I thought my mother had not noticed it, being accustomed to go on towards home. But suddenly she stopped, and, as was her wont on rare occasions, she drew my head to her quickly and gave me a kiss which went half into the air. “Now, my dear, God bless you!” I tried to find her hand but failed. She had already left me and I could no longer see her in the dark. I could only hear her step in the empty street. That quaint, dear step, which sounded as if she dragged one of her feet a little. Then that ceased too. Silence, empty silence, dominated the night. Silently I wept, and the world disappeared in my tears. * * * * * _March 24th._ Dawn. The dawn rose with a dull greyness over the ill-fated city, as though the light had risen from the mire. Morning was in sole possession of the dirty unswept streets. I leant far out of the window, and in the distance I noticed two soldiers staggering painfully along. One of the achievements of the Dictatorship of the Proletariat: prohibition of alcohol! As I turned back I caught sight of my travelling bag. My mother had packed it yesterday and had smuggled it out of the house without the spying servant observing them. I sat down by it and waited. After a time the house awoke and the time passed more quickly. I do not remember all that followed: Zsigmondy changed my money, and I noticed how little I had—one thousand six hundred crowns. I counted it over again, but that did not make it more. My mother had wanted to give me some, but it had all come so unexpectedly that we had only very little money in the house, and she would need that little. I should have liked to put back the clock, but there was the cab waiting in the street and they were carrying my bag down the stairs. As I waved my hand from the corridor Mrs. Zsigmondy leant out of the door which had opened to me so hospitably and smiled through her tears. When I was in the carriage it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I ought not to have accepted Zsigmondy’s offer to come with me to the station: he might get into trouble; but he insisted so simply and heartily that I could say no more.