We joined her. The men carried her baskets. The odor of these mushrooms brought back gnawing memories. Toward the end of the day, we reached the village. The Austrian soldier knew this village, having relatives here. Through him we were able to be taken care of for the night. He went into the house while we waited outside. An elderly woman came out and in a Slavic language I understood, said, “Come in, my child, I hear you have an injured foot. I know you are hungry. I will have supper ready for you in a minute.” She seemed so clean and kind and motherly, I was drawn to her immediately. We followed her into the house and there we met her daughters who also welcomed us. I sat on a low stool shivering, while one of the girls took off my muddy boots and the other brought pails of water from outdoors which they poured into a large kettle on the wood-burning stove. My muddy stockings were stuck to my feet. Warm water was poured over them to take off the worst of the plastered mud. The mother took a sharp knife and scraped some salt into a fresh pail of warm water to serve as disinfectant. By the time we finished with my foot, the supper was ready. It consisted of warm mamaliga--a yellow mush made out of maize--with warm milk poured over it. It was a new dish to me, but nothing ever tasted better. The mother examined my wound. While she washed it a tear dropped on my ankle. Our eyes met. “I think it will be all right, I do not see any infection.” The warm milk soon stopped the chattering of my teeth. The good girls had already made up a bed for me: a small wooden bed with linen sheets spread over a narrow mattress. They had hardly left the room when I was fast asleep. The girls shared the same room with me, but I was not aware of them. When I woke up the next day, the girls told me that the men had been waiting for me since eleven in the morning. “What time is it now?” I asked. “Four in the afternoon,” they laughed. “Several times the men came in and looked to see if you were asleep or dead, and were reassured.” Evidently I felt safe at last. The girls told me excitedly that the men had slept in the barn and later had helped their mother clean the stable. The Germans had left her one horse and one cow, confiscating all the rest of the livestock before the Russian invasion, fearing that the Russians would take it. When I started to dress, to my surprise I could not find my wet travelling clothes. Instead of my clothes I found a new outfit: everything from a cotton dress to a pair of shoes. This humble family had presented me with Sunday clothes belonging to their youngest daughter, six months my junior. I located the men in the garden eating half-dried plums still on the trees. They were relaxed, free and happy after getting me safely across the border. I, too, was relaxed and free. At long last I had found a peaceful refuge with this unknown but friendly family which had taken me into its midst and made me a welcome member.