Another period of oblivion ended. Consciousness returned to find the woman bending over me. The sight of her brought back a realization of the horrible truth; the family was no more, only I was left. No, it could not be. Now I wanted her to tell me more, but she shook her head. I understood. Frantic with the hopelessness of it all, I shivered down into my covers. My foot struck something solid but warm. It was a bed warmer, a hot stone wrapped in a cloth. Using my uninjured foot I manoeuvred it so that I got my hands on it. To me it was more than stone, more than warmth. I now felt the woman was sympathetic and underneath her still exterior I discovered a new companionship. In spite of longing to die, I awoke from each sleep more alive. Each awakening brought a little less suffering and pain. I could now turn my head with less pain and without dizziness. The nausea attacks were almost gone--I was getting better. Sleep was the great healer: the vitality of youth swayed the balance. With real resentment I allowed the woman to tend to my wounds. Since they were not serious enough to let me die, I had no desire to examine them to ascertain their nature. So far I had received very little nourishment from taking food, partly because I was afraid the nausea might return. She brought me some delicious soup with a strong flavor and containing some barley. It was nourishing; I could almost feel an increased strength as I took it. Yet I did not want to get well. The woman gave me good care, but it seemed to be mistaken kindness. Now that I knew the worst, she seemed more distant than ever. It was as if she feared for her own life. She did what was necessary and departed quickly. But why was she nursing me? I could not understand it. I only knew I was alone and could not die. Hauntingly the prayer we sisters had written together kept coming to my mind. I tried to say it but the words had lost their meaning. Over and over haunting thoughts catapulted into my mind. How did I escape the death intended for the whole family? Why did they want to do away with us? We could have gone abroad, never to return, if we could only have kept together. I remembered Mother’s frequent words, that the throne had brought nothing but unhappiness to our family. We all loved our Motherland and would have been content to live as ordinary citizens in some obscure part of it.