Such scenes gave me a distaste for the life I was leading. I felt that immunity from typhus could be too dearly bought. Further, while the Hungarian officers treated me with finished courtesy, even with a sort of deference as to their teacher, the Germans took a pleasure in embittering my life in all the ways they could. Proverbially we can find strength to support the afflictions of our friends, it is their good fortune that is so hard to bear. The Germans simply could not forgive me my stroke of luck. When, therefore, the Austrian doctors approached me with an offer that I should live with them, going into the officers’ camp every day to give my lessons, I was very glad. My evenings and Sundays I spent with the doctors. Every morning a doctor went to visit the officers, I, with a Red Cross band round my arm, marching behind, ostentatiously carrying a big bottle of medicine. Every day the sentry challenged me, and every day the doctor answered in the only two words of Russian he knew, “My servant.” Every afternoon he came to fetch me back, every afternoon the sentry challenged us, and every afternoon he answered in the only two words of Russian he knew, “My servant.” The medicine had originally been intended for some officer, but it proved to me such a magic “Open Sesame,” that he had to go without. From time to time the Russians were seized with a suspicion that unauthorized people were on the premises and they would make surprise visits. They would order everybody out of the buildings and call the roll in the courtyard. In the meantime the soldiers would search the empty barracks for people who ought not to be there, see me quietly reading, give me a brotherly grin, and pass on to the next room. Once during these proceedings I was carelessly standing at the window, when a soldier down below recognized me. He made frantic signs to get out of the way, lest his officers should catch sight of me. Wrongheadedness and topsyturvydom could go no further.