I cannot attempt to describe in detail my last day of captivity. To make matters worse it was a Sunday, a day of rest. As a consequence my thoughts, not being distracted by any manual labour, would persist, in spite of all my efforts, in returning to the very subjects I should have liked to avoid, to the journey I had resolved to undertake. Now that I had made up my mind, my escape seemed to be fraught with infinite danger and peril. I tried to shake off my thoughts in the company of my comrades and the amusement of their games; but I could not succeed. I had continually before my eyes a picture, remarkable in its clearness, of my home people, who at times smiled and encouraged me in my adventure, at others reproached me with sad looks for being too rash. Painful moments! My will proved firm, and yet I was oppressed by fear, anguish and apprehension. Had I the right to risk my life? Was I not yielding to the impulse of the moment? Was I the victim of hallucinations, of my daily “auto-suggestion”? A moment of silent communion with those dearest to me made me realise clearly that the hour of action had at last come, that I must not let it pass, that it was a question of a strong effort of will, and that I was as ready then as I should ever be. I firmly decided not to put it off any longer, but to try my fortune the next day. My heart was beating with unusual emotion when I wrote to my people a letter that should be given to them in case I lost my life in the attempt. Then I began my preparations, and stuffed some things into my bag. When that was done I went down, and in order not to awaken the suspicions of my companions I spent the remainder of the day in playing and chatting and joking with them. But it seemed to me that my smile was somewhat forced and my laugh unnatural. Night came, and soon in our loft I was the only one awake, thinking over my project. Only a few hours more! I examined myself to see if I really had the courage and energy necessary for the enterprise. I found myself more doggedly determined than ever, and I pictured, far away, the joy and delight of those who were holding out their arms to strengthen and welcome me. Sleep surprised me in the act of weaving fantastic plans. * * * * *