CHAPTER  I   

    LISBOA… PORTUGAL… ENCHANTING FOR YOURS TRULY... BUT HEARTBREAKING… FOR MY BELOVED SISTER… PRIMA…!     
    
     Upon later reflection… it dawned on me… that I had most probably… unwittingly aided and abetted… an illegal smuggling operation… and that… more likely than not… some valuable gems - perhaps diamonds...? … had been sewn inside the body of the doll…!  And who would look less conspicuous… and more innocent… and natural… than a young girl… with her hair done up in braids… holding a doll in her arms...!? 
  
     And I found myself fervently hoping… that the smuggled gems… were not for personal greed… but maybe to pay for ways… to help resist the war… through the pockets… of brave underground fighters… about which I had heard about…

     There was very little to see… as we flashed through town… in the taxi… since the city of Lisbon was blacked out… and under strictly enforced curfew... And I don't remember too much about the hotel… except that it had an old-world grandeur about it...  

     But I do remember… that it boasted an enormous dining room… very dimly lit… the walls draped heavily… from ceiling to floor in rich… dark red velvet… the color of burgundy wine… which had the effect of muffling the sound of voices… in the room… and which was furnished… with elaborately carved tables of heavy oak… the chairs… like the drapes… upholstered in rich… dark red velvet...    
  
     As we all sat around the huge oblong dining room table… hardly able to see each other… in the dimness… little did I know then… that Papa's demand… that the members of his family… strictly adhere to his ruling… of eating their meals together… would be instrumental… in helping to cause… the greatest tragedy… in Prima's young life...!

     It was only nine years later… on the eve of my departure… for South Africa… while sitting at the kitchen table… in her charming two storey mansion… in Zurich… all cozy and warm… on the very last night… that I would ever see my beloved sister… that she confided to me… for the first time… how real grief… such as she had never experienced before… in her life… had suddenly struck her... starting with our very first night in Lisbon… on the eve of the first week in March… 1942...

     As we sat in her kitchen… with our heads close together… she finally filled me in… on what had so heartbreakingly transpired… after Papa… noticing how anxious she was… to leave the dining table… had deliberately and maliciously… lingered over his food… only excusing her… as dessert was about to be served… which she had vehemently declined having... ever self-conscious… about her adolescent “baby fat”… 

     She had never been able… to talk to me about it before… because the telling of it… dredged up such painful memories for her... memories of a bittersweet romance… that had cruelly been nipped in the bud… through no fault of her own… but through Papa's mean-mindedness… that particular night of all nights... no doubt using the perfect opportunity… to pay her back… for her frequent non-attendance… at the family meals… aboard ship... and through the fickle fingers of fate...

     I already knew… of course… of her secret marriage to Alan… on board the “Serpa Pinto…” … their marital union… sanctified and blessed… by the good man of God… Reverend "Whipped Cream" Whipple... from Canada…

     It had all come to light… one morning… about two weeks later… after we were finally settled… in our new home… in Zurich… Switzerland… occupying the whole top fourth floor… of an old-fashioned apartment building… with outside stairs… leading up to an attic… which became Remo’s room… situated a block or so away… from Papa’s office… and the beautiful large lake… Zurcher See… visible in the distance… from our balcony…

     On that fateful morning… a cablegram had arrived at Papa's office… together with a parcel… addressed to a Mrs. Alan Dixon… care of Overseas Trading Company… Zurich… the contents of which… shocked Papa to the core… when… upon opening the cablegram… he read that the British War Office… deeply regretted having to inform Mrs. Alan Dixon… nee Prima Vera Rau… that her husband… Flight Lieutenant Alan Dixon… had died a heroic death… while in service to the British Royal Air Force… from the Canadian Air Force… having been shot down… in his plane… during a bombing raid over Germany...

     Papa had come home immediately… in a towering rage… armed with the incriminating items… and angrily zeroing in on Prima… who was dreamily playing the piano… in the dining room… no doubt… thinking of her beloved husband… Alan… demanded to know the meaning… of the contents of the cablegram… spluttering that there must be some mistake… for how could a daughter of his… who was only sixteen years of age… and therefore a minor… possibly be married… and he… her father… not know anything about it...?
  
     But he could see… from the devastated look… on his daughter's face… as… sitting on the piano bench… she looked up… with stricken eyes… at the parcel… he held in his hand… that there had been no mistake... she was indeed the intended addressee...  (Since she did not know what our residential address would be… she had given Alan… her father's already established business address… to use… meanwhile… for any correspondence between them...)
  
     Hearing Papa shouting… I had rushed into the dining room… to see what all the commotion was about… and saw… with an instinctive feeling of wrenching alarm… in my heart… Prima first slowly reading the cablegram… that Papa angrily thrust into her face… holding it in trembling fingers…

     Then… in a stunned daze… as if in slow motion… getting to her feet… and turning to the parcel… which Papa had disdainfully thrown… onto the dining table… opening what appeared to be a shoebox… her shoulders slumped… crestfallen… as she fingered the few… pathetic personal possessions… and only remains… of her dearly beloved husband… of less than a month…:

     His shiny insignia… of wings… his wristwatch… his toilet articles… a few other odds and ends… and very little else...  
  
     For once… at the sight of the raw… grief-stricken look… on her face… Papa's usual anger… at his wayward… high-spirited daughter… was checked… and wordlessly handing her the agony-causing cablegram… he forcefully propelled me out… through the glass doors… of the dining room… with him… into the hallway... 

     Standing there… as he went off to talk to his beloved Xenia… with only the glass French doors separating us… I felt so utterly helpless… my whole being… yearning to be with my sister… longing to comfort her…  But I knew… deep down in my heart of hearts… that she needed to be alone… in her sorrow...
  
     As if things were not bad enough… as they were… Xenia… upon being filled in by Papa… began behaving abominably… crying hysterically… wringing her hands theatrically… wailing about the disgrace… that Prima had brought down… upon the Rau family… smearing its name with scandal… moaning dramatically… that she had had no idea… that she was harboring under her roof… a bride… who was legally under age…

     And she insisted that Papa must make immediate arrangements… to annul the shameful union… of his daughter… to a man she had hardly known...! 

     And to add insult to injury… she had the audacity… to cruelly proclaim… and in a loud voice… so that Prima could hear every single word… that boy-crazy Prima's so-called "marriage" … could have been nothing more… than a meaningless… fleeting shipboard romance...!
  
     Then the glass doors… to the dining room… suddenly opened… choking off Xenia's vicious tirade… in mid-sentence... 

     And as we all held our breaths… expecting Prima to pounce… on her loathed and despised step-mother… thoroughly enraged… at her narrow-minded pettiness… were shocked to see her emerge… looking thoroughly dejected… holding the devastating cablegram… and the precious shoebox… and its contents… close to her breast...

     And as she slowly shuffled past us… her feet seeming to drag behind her… we could all see… how her face had turned… a horrible chalky white…

     And for the first time in my life… I saw my sister… utterly defeated… by the cruel blow… fate had dealt her… seeing its crushing effect on her… as she… with shoulders slumped… and eyes downcast… went into our joint bedroom… next to the front door… closing the door softly behind her... 

     Meanwhile… Papa managed to calm Xenia down… leading her towards their bedroom… way at the other end… of the long hallway… with his arm draped comfortingly… around her heaving shoulders…

     And there was now a deathly quiet… throughout the whole… spacious apartment… as I stood… all alone… out in the hallway… my heart aching in sympathy… for my dearly beloved sister… longing to go in to her… but knowing… deep down… that I should leave her alone… in her heartrending grief… for the present...

     I expected to hear her sobbing her heart out… but there was no sound… whatsoever… from behind the closed bedroom door... which filled the atmosphere… with an eerie… heavy ambiance… just like the instant… before an earthquake strikes…!

     And no sooner than that thought… crossed my mind… when the earth shook violently… beneath my feet…!  And all the delicate… Lalique glassware… displayed on top of the buffet table… in the dining room… began to tinkle… as they were made to jostle… against each other… then… as the quake increased… they were smashed against each other… breaking into a million… shattering pieces…!

     The strong quake lasted… for quite a few minutes… and as I stood… in the middle of the long… dark hallway… all alone… bracing myself… against the walls… with my monkey arms… and long legs… stretched out… with a strong feeling… inside me… of utter trust and faith… in the Protection… of my Heavenly Father… never in a million years… did I imagine that an earthquake… could happen… in Europe… let alone… in Zurich… of all places…!     

     So used to them… growing up in Japan… occurring yearly… between the months of October and February… I was absoultely amazed… realizing that not even in Europe… could I escape them…!   

     Then… as I stood there… in the darkness… of the long hallway… I found myself wondering… whether my Heavenly Father… through the sudden Shaking… of the earth… Was Expressing His Mighty Wrath… at his son… Theodore Rau… for treating His loved daughter… so cruelly… whom… for  this particular lifetime… He Had Loaned out to him… as his daughter…!    

     The newspapers… and radio reported… that evening… that the earthquake… of that day… generated up in the mountains… above Zurich… was most unusual… the last one having occurred… over thirty years ago…!

     Now… in June… 1951… with Prima happily married to the shoe tycoon… Jonni Weibel… and being the mother… of their two children… a darling boy… Johnny… and girl… Sylvia… I was recalling… how  I had washed… by hand… dozens of little baby Johnny's diapers… with no inkling… that yet another daughter… would be born to them… while I was living in South Africa… and that she and Jonni… would soon become divorced… from each other… because he could no longer tolerate her       maniac behavior… and her drinking… his long-suffering patience… finally petered out…!

     Sitting in her kitchen… on what was to become… the very last night… we would ever share… on earth together… and my very last night in Zurich… for I would never be returning to Switzerland… ever again… the country… which had caused me so much heartache… and shocking suffering… (all told in “Seven Hells…”) … barely twenty-one years old… about to finally be reunited… for good… with my adored Mummie… in South Africa… after thirteen long… aching years of separation from her…  I was listening to the poignant story… of my sister’s never-to-be-forgotten… terrible night in Lisbon… nine years earlier...

     Apparently… she and Alan… had arranged to meet each other… in the hotel cocktail bar… immediately after dinner… and Papa acting so perversely… by prolonging the dinner hour… stretching it into longer than two… before he would allow her… to be excused from the table… had made her painfully aware… that she would be late… for their arranged rendezvous...

     So that… as soon as she was excused… without stopping first in the powder room… to freshen up… she had dashed out through the vast deserted… impersonal-looking lobby… into the suddenly cozy atmosphere… of the romantically lit cocktail bar...

     But when she saw that it was empty… she was very disappointed… and glad at the same time… pleased that she had arrived there… before her precious lover had… but impatient… that fate was still keeping them apart...

     Trying to quell a stab of anxiety… she settled down in a corner of the room… telling herself to think positively... imagining to herself that… at any second now… his tall… handsome frame… would come sauntering through the door… a la Gary Cooper… exuding an aura of quiet… manly self-assurance... and how he would quickly put all her mounting fears to rest...

     She tried to be calm… but she was awaiting his arrival … with eager anticipation… her yearning heart beating faster… the longer she sat...  It was the first time they had been separated… from each other… and her longing to feel his strong arms around her… holding her close… made her ache for him… unbearably...
  
     Then she happened to notice two men… sitting at the far end of the bar… engaged in animated conversation… in what she presumed to be the Portuguese language… one man being the bartender… and the other a customer...

     Watching them… she idly mused on how… for the first time in her life… she seemed to be going unnoticed… by a man… which was a refreshing change… from her usual experience… of attracting men to her… like bees to honey... moths to a flame… wherever she went...  How quirky fate is… for ironically… when this one crucial time… she should have drawn attention to herself… she didn't...!

     She waited and waited… darting anxious looks… first at her expensive Rolex wristwatch… which Papa had given her… in New York… then at the clock on the wall… as the seconds… and minutes… ticked by inexorably... until she realized… that nearly an hour had passed...!

     Then it seemed as if the two men… at the bar… who had been deeply engrossed… in their discussion… their heads close together… from time to time… raising their voices in heated argument… their arms gesticulating vehemently… had finally run out of words… to say to each other... 

     And the bartender… idly glancing around the cocktail bar… in search of potential customers… happened to notice… the striking… darkhaired young lady… sitting all by herself… at a small table… in the far corner of the room… and from her posture… he surmised that she had been sitting there… for quite some time...

     He instantly felt a flood of guilt… at having neglected her… and as if galvanized… into action… he raced out… from behind the counter… emerging at her side… bowing obsequiously… jabbering profuse apologies… in rapid Portuguese… abjectly sorry… for not having noticed… such a "bella donna"... and what was her pleasure...

     She knew a smattering of Italian and Spanish… and was able to convey… to the barman… that she was waiting for someone… and was not interested… in ordering a drink just yet...

     Suddenly… a light seemed to dawn… on the man's swarthy face… for he asked her… whether she was waiting for “un hombre militare” … (a military man)… and upon her eagerly nodding "Si si" … he dashed back behind the counter… and reemerged… producing a folded piece of paper… with a flourish… grinning from ear to ear...

     At the sight of it… Prima went pale… knowing instinctively… that something was terribly wrong… and her heart pounding… almost       ed the note… out of his hand... 

     With trembling fingers… and tears in her eyes… she barely managed to unfold… the little piece of paper...  And upon seeing her beloved's handwriting… for the very first time… except for his signature… on their Marriage Certificate… which was snugly tucked away… in her handbag… felt her spirits soar… for a moment...

     Only to be dashed… a second later… when she read the words… which seemed to be undulating… up and down… through the blur of tears… hardly able to believe… that her beloved new husband… of barely a week… had written to tell her… that he had waited for her… as long as he could… but having received orders… to fly to London… that very night… leaving Lisbon Airport… at 1O p.m.. … he could not wait for her… a second longer...!

     Frantic… and almost out of her mind… seeing that she barely had twenty-five minutes… to get to the airport… wherever that was… she raced outside the hotel… praying that she would find a taxi… that would get her there in time...

     Another precious five minutes… were spent… flagging down taxis - four in all - trying to talk the taxidrivers… into taking her to the airport… without success... 

     For all four taxidrivers… she had hailed… became instantly suspicious… adamantly refusing… to taxi a young girl… out in the street… all alone at night… after curfew… hardly stopping their cars for her...!

     She was about to give up… in despair… when she spotted a stationary taxi… off the main street… just around the corner… from the hotel… and her heart surging with hope… once more… made a dash for it… only to find the driver… sitting behind the wheel… fast asleep… snoring his head off...

     Filled with a sense of tremendous urgency… she shook the man awake… and a few more precious minutes… were taken up… trying to explain… as best as she could… in sign language… that she had to get to the airport right away...
  
     Despite the drama of the situation… it must have been quite a comical sight… to see plumpish Prima… who still had her baby-fat… waving her arms about… desperately trying to demonstrate… a flying aeroplane… to the half-sleepy taxi driver… who kept up a querulous…: "Que.. que..?" … cupping his hand over his ear...

     And then… when he finally understood her… he obstinately shook his head "No" at her… unwilling to go all the way to the airport… not only because there was a curfew on… but because of gasoline rationing… as well...

     But she finally touched his sense of romance… when she begged… with tears unashamedly streaming down her cheeks…:  "Mi amor... mi amor" … going through the motions… of an aeroplane in the air… once again… gesturing beseechingly… that her "amor" … was flying away to "la guerra" … and that she had to get to the airport in time… to see him off...!

     The man's heart softened… and finally agreeing to take her… telling her to pray to "Dios" … that the "polizia" would not stop them… since it was against regulations… he drove at breakneck speed… at the same time… trying his best… to calm her down… clucking reassuringly… that there was plenty of time… for them to get to the airport...

     But when they finally did arrive… it was two minutes past ten... too late... and all she saw… was the blinking running lights… of the aircraft… in the distance… as it lifted up… into the darkness… of the starless night sky...
  
     And as she watched it… growing smaller and smaller… through the blur of her tears… a gaping… aching emptiness… filled her whole being… and she felt heartbroken… that she had not been in time... in time to hold him close to her breast… just once more... time to whisper to him… how much she loved him... and how much she would pray for him… asking God to Watch over him… while the terrible war separated them... and then… after all the madness was over... Bring him back to her loving arms… once more… safe and sound...   
  
     All the way back to the hotel… sitting in the back seat… Prima writhed in agony… over the cruel blow… fate had dealt her… denying her even a chance to say…: "Farewell… my darling… and God Speed"… to her beloved Alan…

     And in trying to console herself… she thanked her lucky stars… that at least she had been prudent enough… to have given him Papa's business address… in Zurich… whilst still on board ship...  Why… there would… in all probability… be a letter from him awaiting her… by the time she arrived there… in a few day's time...

     Now… sitting with Prima in her kitchen… on the afternoon of June 7th … 1951… Prima was telling me… about the double tragedy… that had struck her so cruelly... not only of having her husband… of a few weeks… wrenched away from her… so abruptly… but of the fact that… as she held the British War Office cablegram… in her hand… and looked down upon her beloved's pitifully few mementos… displayed in the shoebox… she knew that she was carrying… in her womb… the precious fruit… of their love for each other...!

     And as I sat there… dumbfounded… she confided further… how she had subsequently been forced to tell Papa… about her pregnant condition… hoping to change his mind… about annulling her marriage… 

     But his reaction… to her desperate plea… had been… first… disdainful disgust… then adamant insistence… that he make arrangements… to terminate her pregnancy… forthwith..!

     To all her pleas… begging her father… since her beloved Alan… was lost to her forever… in death… to at least allow her… to have his child… as a living… breathing reminder of him… and the deep love they had shared... for each other… he turned a deaf ear... 
  
     Ranting and raving at her… he reminded her harshly…  that she was only sixteen… therefore according to Swiss law… legally a minor... much too young to be married… let alone a mother - disdainfully brushing aside the fact… when Prima reminded him… that he himself had married her own mother… when she was only sixteen… giving birth to Prima… when she was barely seventeen years old...! 

     (She very prudently left out the part… reminding him… how he had first raped her… when she was only fifteen… which her mother… always treating her like a sister… than a daughter… had already told her about... when she was twelve…!)

     He tried to convince his daughter… that having a child so young… all on her own… meant having to make necessary sacrifices… in order to raise it properly… and what about her interrupted… uncompleted education...? 

     He simply could not understand… how she could want to throw her life away… so easily… reminding her sternly… how she would be minimizing… her opportunities… for another favorable marriage… later on… when she was suitably older… for no man in his right mind… would want to be saddled… with a much too young mother… with another man's child...

     Sobbing bitter tears… as she recalled her enormous grief and sorrow…  she told me that… even though she had given birth… to two wonderful children… after she married Jonni Weibel… when she was twenty-one… she still longed for a living… breathing reminder… in memory of the greatest love… she had ever known…

     Even though their time together… had been so brief… she still ached… to hold Alan's child… in her arms… still suffered from the loss of it… to Papa’s enforced abortion... angry at herself… for having been so weak… as to give in… to his angry demands… that she end her precious pregnancy...

     At that time… abortions were strictly illegal… in Switzerland… but being such new arrivals… in the country… and Prima being legally under age… short of running away… she was ultimately forced to have the developing fetus… removed from her womb... 

     And she told me… how she had never been able to forgive her father… for inflicting such agony on her...  Her marriage was privately… legally annulled… as well...

     Sitting in her kitchen… I was shocked beyond words… as she unburdened her soul to me… especially since we had not only shared… the same bedroom… at the time… but the very same… kingsize bed... just like we did… in Japan…!  And even then… I had never had any inkling… of the double agony… she was suffering from… and at such a tender age…

     The sudden loss… of her new husband… and following right on the heels of her loss… the horrible crime… of having doctors take a human… living embryo… her precious baby… from her womb...!

     And doubly shocked… when she finally confessed… the real reason… for that time… when I had accompanied her… to the doctor’s office…!

     When her father had made secret arrangements… through his many business connections… for his daughter… to be illegally aborted… of her precious baby… and ordered that she accompany him… to the doctor’s office… for some strange reason… she had revolted… and told him… firmly… that she would only go… if her little sister Graziella… accompanied her… and noone else…!        

     And when she asked me one day… soon after she got the tragic news of her husband’s untimely death… whether I would care to go with her to see a doctor… to get a prescription… for her shattered nerves… to help her in her grieving… over the loss of her beloved Alan… I had readily agreed…

     And all the while… she snuggled close to me… in the taxi… on the way to the doctor’s office… I held her close to me… as she finally sobbed her heart of grief out…
    
     And all the while… I held her in my arms… telling her tenderly… to let it all out… soothing and comforting her… as much as I could… I had no inkling… whatsoever… as the taxi drove us inexorably… towards a devastating event… that would change my cherished sister… forever… that she was pregnant… with her beloved Alan’s child…!

     If I had known… I would have begged her… not to go through… with what I knew to be the most terrible sin… in God’s Eyes… urging her… that we turn the taxi around… and go and see the kindly Behren’s… certain that they would shelter us… and help Prima… to keep her baby…      

     Now I understood more fully… why she had suddenly developed… an "I don't care" attitude… turning to alcohol… and loose living… and one lover after another… to try to forget the agony… tearing at her heart…

     For she also knew… deep down inside her… that it was a sin… to take a human life...  In her own fashion… she too had a deep abiding faith… in Almighty God… and felt that she had fallen… from His Divine Grace...!

     My heart going out to her… in soul-deep sympathy… I asked…:

     "Why in Heaven's name didn't you tell me... let me share some of your pain with you...?  We could have gone to that nice young couple… the Behrens… for help…”

     She smiled wistfully through her tears… and replied…:

     "I wanted to spare you the ugly side of life… as much… as as I could... because I have always felt more like a mother… than a sister to you… and tried my best… to protect you… from the harsh realities of life… for as long as I could..."

     Hearing the sincerity… in her voice… my heart overflowed with love…  for this very special human being… who had chosen… to suffer in silence… even as her little sister… much taller than she was… lay cuddled up next to her… in our big kingsize bed...  I honestly don't know… if our positions had been reversed… whether I could have been so stoically silent… unselfish and caring...

     On that memorable night… I also found out… for the first time… how she had saved my life… bodily rescuing me from a fire… that had engulfed our house… in Kobe… when I was too little to remember... 

     At tremendous risk to herself… she had ran back… into the burning inferno… and snatched me from my crib...  And she told me… how Miraculous it was… that I had slept through the whole dangerous event… never once waking up...!

     She told me of yet another incident… when I had fallen out of our shared bed… onto my head… landing on the sharp metal edge… of the Senko mosquito repellant… set on the floor… at the head of our bed… which not only had singed my hair… but gashed open my scalp… as well...! 

     Again… Miraculously… I had slept through the whole event… climbing back into bed… without ever waking up...! 

     Meantime… Prima… lying beside me… about nine years old… had woken up… to see my pillow… drenched with blood… and had screamed for help...  Lucky that she did wake up… for I may have very well bled to death... in my sleep…! 

     I have no recollection of that episode… either… except that… to this day… I have a little bald patch… on the crown of my head...!

     Perhaps Prima bared her soul to me… in such depth… that last day… and night… because in her heart of hearts… she "knew" ... that we would never see each other again… in this lifetime... 

     At this stage of writing… we have not seen each other for - it will be forty years… on the 7th of June… this year - although we did keep up a steady correspondence… with each other… for many years… throughout our years of separation… from one another...

     And I got her into SUBUD… until I Received… in 1985… three years into my bedridden stroke time… that she was no longer… living on earth…

     Upon reflection… looking back upon our association… as siblings… where she did her best… to protect me… in the crucial moments… of my babyhood…  and early youth… I… in turn… protected her… on many an occasion… as an adult… between the ages of 18 and 21… when often hopelessly in her cups… helpless… her little sister… at already five foot ten… would be the one… to stride fearlessly… into low dives… and bistros… rescuing her beloved big sister… from the lewd attentions… of unsavory characters… trying to take advantage of her… in her inebriated state... 

     On one occasion… I walked into a bar…  just as a man was sticking his hand… down the front of her dress… as she sat lolling drunkenly… on the bar stool... 

     And becoming enraged… at the degrading sight… my Guardian Angel… Once Again… Gave me Superhuman Strength… and I lashed out… and Belted him one… in the chops… satisfactorily knocking out one of his teeth..! 

     It seemed as if fate had decreed… that our roles… were to become reversed… for it was I… who had become the "big sister"...  And I would think nothing… of having to make doubly long trips… boarding numerous busses… to get us safely… back to her mansion…

     And we would often be greeted… at the door… by her worried… anxious husband… who… although he worshipped and adored her… could not control her wild ways… and stop her nightly jaunts… to bars… to drink… and bring some strange man… back to their house… to sleep with her…!

     And between the two of us… we would get rid of the equally drunk… would be lover stranger… make certain… that she… who had become alarmingly thin… got some nourishing food and coffee… into her alcohol riddled body... undressing her… and tucking her into bed... and generally taking care of her… when she was too sick and weak... or depressed... or simply unable and unwilling… to take proper care of herself...

     Then with Jonni… thanking me profusely… for bringing his beloved wife… safely back to him… making the long journey back… to my rented room… in the city… usually in the wee hours… of the morning… 

     I would often arrive back at home… just in time to undress… wash… change… and go out again… immediately… to get to work on time… for I had to be at the office… very early in the morning… 

     Although chronically anemic… because of my heavy loss of blood… during my monthly cycles… needing lots of rest… usually ten hours of sleep a night… whenever my sister needed me… I would drop everything… and rush to her rescue… my overpowering love… and concern for her… being of the utmost importance to me… making me easily able to function… at my work place… without any sleep...!

     And there were many occasions… on weekends… when hotels would be raided… by the Swiss police… who had nothing better to do… than look for adulterous couples…!   And Prima would invariably be found in bed… drunk… with some drunk stranger… who was not her husband… in his hotel room…!

     And the punishment… by law… for adultery… was for the female… to do public service… such as cleaning out the filthy… dirty latrines… throughout the city…!  And punishment for the male… caught in bed with a female… who was not his wife…?  There was none… for the male was never to blame… only the female… even if she was young… and naive enough… to be his daughter…! 

     And Jonni and I… would often find ourselves… at the police station… to bail drunk Prima… out of jail… for sleeping with a strange man… in one of the hotels… who wasn’t her husband…!

CHAPTER  TWO    

OUR TORTUROUS TRAIN RIDES… FIRST ACROSS BEAUTIFUL… PEACEFUL PORTUGAL…!

     Waking up on solid ground… after over a week at sea… was quite a unique experience indeed...  As I finally laid my head down on the soft pillow… of the feathery hotel bed… that first night ashore… more than ready to transport myself… into the waiting arms of Morpheus… I had experienced the same undulating sensation… my body seeming to gently swing up... then down... just as at sea… as the ship rode the waves...! 

     And here… again… just as when on the night we arrived in Los Angeles… after almost two months at sea… I was once again… feeling the same sensation… which most pleasantly… was rocking me to sleep...

     And I was enjoying the sensation so much… as it lulled me to sleep… that I hardly noticed… when Prima quietly came into our sha       el room… with her heart heavy… and filled with longing for her beloved Alan… whom she hadn’t been able to bid a fond farewell to…  

     So that on the following morning… awakening for the first time in my life… on European soil… since the first two months of life… in Italy… I felt quite relaxed and rested… and not one bit fearful and afraid… now that I was finally finding myself… dangerously close… to the edge… of the bloody arena of war… that was saturating… much of the European continent...

     The city of Lisbon… had come to life early… and from our hotel window… I could hear the overpowering noise and smell… of the peculiar ambiance… that was Portugal... as people noisily hustled and bustled… busily going about their business... 

     I stayed by the window… my eyes and senses glued to the populous scene below...  For after the quasi-confinement of the ship… it was quite startling… to see and hear… so many people… at one time...

     Our hotel stood in the middle of the main square… of the city… and everywhere I looked… I could see elaborately ornate… sculptured buildings… which gave the city its quaint… historically old-fashioned charm...

     Since Cooks Tours… had made first class train reservations… for the Rau entourage… on the Wagons Lit… which would take us non-stop… straight through… from Lisbon to Zurich… taking no more than forty-eight hours… at the most… we were expecting to leave Lisbon… by mid-morning… the following day...

     Rather than spending the one and only day before departure… sightseeing… Papa and Xenia thought it prudent… to attend to more practical matters… by spending their precious free time… shopping for essentials… especially since we would be travelling through poverty-stricken Spain… not yet recovered… from its recent… devastating Civil War...

     And when they returned… to the hotel… some hours later… exhausted… but reasonably satisfied… they unpacked their shopping bags and parcels… sorting out and distributing various items… to the members of their family…

     One of the items… turned out to be an enormous straw hamper… packed to the brim… with all sorts of canned and packaged foods… including different kinds of miniature breads… sausages… cheeses and fruits… which Xenia produced… with a grand flourish… expecting praises of "Hallelujah" … from her family…

     And she was mortified… to see everybody… laughing at her good-naturedly… passing remarks… at how "over well-prepared" … she was being… Remo teasing her affectionately... and even her adored Theo... 

     But as things grimly turned out… it was a very good thing… that she had had the foresight… to include a food hamper… on her shopping list… otherwise... but I am running ahead… of my adventurous narrative...

     We all had an early night… and the next morning… bright and early… braving the chill morning air… we embarked on the world famous Wagons Lit train… ensconced… to my mind… compactly cozy and comfy… in our very own separate compartments... 

     I was looking forward… to my very first experience… of first watching the countryside of Portugal… go by… from my window seat… wondering how it would differ… from the countryside of Spain… its next door neighbor… then relishing the thought… of actually sleeping on a berth… once again… on a train at night… just like on that memorable trip… on the Pullman train… from Los Angeles to New York… with dear Bill… in cheerful attendance…

     For some reason… I thought we would be travelling… for a whole day… through Portugal alone… and I must say… I was quite disappointed… when Remo corrected me… telling me how wrong I was… to think that our train journey… from Portugal to Switzerland… would take longer than a day... 

     However… as things ultimately… and quirkily turned out… he was very wrong...!

     Under more normal circumstances… Remo would probably have been right… but because of fuel rationing… and other reasons… which can drastically alter… the normal state of things… during war time… even in neutral countries… our train seemed to inch slowly… across the countryside… stopping at every station… for long periods of time… leisurely offloading… and onloading weary… travel-trodden passengers… before chugging slowly on again...

     And although the scenery… was pleasant enough… at first… with lots of beautiful green fields and farmlands… cows peacefully grazing away… the sun brightly shining down… on the peaceful… pastoral scenes… the longer the day dragged on... and on... the engines endlessly chug-chugging... the hotter and hotter it got...! 

     And when… in the afternoon… the sun streamed in… through our side of the uncurtained windows… the now most uncomfortably hot… narrow compartment… became unbearably stifling...

     To break the monotony… Remo suggested… that  we eat some of the food… from Xenia's precious hamper… but she responded… with a tight-lipped… "forr emeerrgency situvations only!" … holding on to the enormous basket… for dear life… and refused to relinquish it from her lap - not even her beloved Theo… could cajole it… away from her...!

     Every now and again… I noticed how quiet Prima was… much too quiet… it seemed to me... her nose deliberately buried… behind some magazine or other… and for a brief moment… I would wonder… what was bothering her… for I felt that something definitely was... 

     Her heart was probably aching… for her beloved Alan… I thought to myself… then wondered briefly… whether he was sitting somewhere else… on the train… waiting anxiously for her… and that from behind her magazine… she was looking for the opportunity… when she could slip away… to be with him… without arousing Papa's suspicions… too much... 

     But the only time… she left the compartment… and only for short periods of time… was to go to the toilet cubicle...  Well... then... maybe he had gone on ahead of her… and was waiting for her… in some prearranged secret place of rendezvous… in some hotel in Zurich...  Yes... that sounded more plausible... 

     And I relaxed… feeling content… that soon my sister would be in the loving arms of her beloved… once again...  “Yes… but I really did not know that for certain… did I?” … I mused to myself…  “Supposing that was not the case at all... and I am just imagining it… wanting everything to be perfect… for my big sister… even though I now tower above her… wanting only her happiness...?” 

     But then something or other… would distract me… and no longer wanting to dwell… on what the true situation… might be for Prima… in case it might be an unhappy one… I made myself ignore the fact… that her strange… quiet behavior… was unnatural for her...

     The railway line… had disbanded the usual practice… of attaching a dining car… for its passengers… so that all our meals… were served in our compartments… consisting mainly of sandwiches… with assorted fillings… and cups of very weak coffee...

     I duly went to bed… that first night… eager to experience… sleeping on an upper berth… of a train… once again… albeit only a mite disgruntled… since my stomach… kept growling in protest… that it had not had its fill... 

     And all night long… as I lay near the ceiling… being shunted gently… from side to side… I tried to shut out visions of enticing… steaming platters of delicious… culinary masterpieces... their delectable aroma… wafting up my nose...

     And I spent the night… far from how I had imagined it would be… cozily nestled… under the blankets… being rocked pleasantly… by the chug-chug-chugging… of the train's engine... but miserably… restlessly thrashing about… groaning in protest… over my half starved state… unable to get a proper night's sleep... 

     And just before Mr. Sandman… finally closed my eyes… and I drifted off to dreamland… and yet another visit… to my true Home in Heaven… I could have sworn… that I could hear muffled sobs… coming from down below me… where Prima was lying...  But by then… I was too exhausted… from hunger… and my own restlessness… to ask her what the matter was...
  
     And when the porter… at the ungodly hour of six o'clock… in the morning… rattled his keys… across our door… for a moment… then unlocking it… proffered steaming hot cups of coffee… under our noses… with a cheerful…:   "Bon Jour mes jolies Mesdemoiselles…" … I could have kissed him with relief… for I knew his coming… signalled that the coveted sandwiches… would not be far behind...

     But as I climbed down… the short stepladder… to get dressed… a wave of dizziness… suddenly swept over my body… making my legs tremble… and I felt terribly weak all over… and forgot all about asking Prima… why she had been sobbing into her pillow… during the night... bursting into tears myself instead… seething with frustration… that I was feeling so sapped of energy...

     And upon seeing the sorry plight… I was in… Prima immediately became solicitous… and a part of me was glad… that my sorry condition… was helping make her forget… her own unhappiness… for a while… as she set about… helping me get my clothes on… propping me up at the tiny wash basin… so that I could at least wash my face… and brush my teeth...

     By the time we were finally both ready… to leave our compartment… to join Papa and Xenia in theirs… bravely facing the world… once again… I was fiercely occupying myself… scheming for ways and means… in which to wrest Xenia's precious food hamper… away from her… the weakly brewed… sweetened coffee… having further stimulated my appetite… to an unbearable pitch - I had to eat… and soon… otherwise I would go stark staring mad… with gnawing… ravenous hunger...

     I don't remember exactly… how many sandwiches I consumed… but I do remember they were many - I believe I asked for four packages - before my stomach… finally settled down… more or less satisfied...

 
CHAPTER THREE   

AND THEN… BY TOTAL CONTRAST… THROUGH THE PITIFUL DEVASTATION… OF CIVIL WAR RAVAGED SPAIN…!

     And then began the dreariest… longest day of my life… travelling uphill now… through the Spanish countryside… the border of which we had crossed… some time during the wee hours of the morning… just before dawn...

     And it was the most shocking… and depressing sight… to behold mile… after devastating mile… the cruel aftermath… of what the Civil War of the twenties… had wrought…: 

     As far as the eye could see… nothing but pathetic scenes of ruins...  skeletal frames… where once magnificent houses… had probably once stood… proud and stately... and more undiscernible piles of rubble... the further inland… and upwards… we travelled...

     And then… to make matters worse… we realized that thick black dust… was beginning to seep in… through the windows… into our compartment… quickly transforming it… into a hazy mist… which stung our eyes… making them smart painfully… with tears... its fine grains… scratchily penetrating their way…  into our clothing… making our skin itch… unbearably...  Our nostrils became clogged… with the particles… our mouths grittily tasting the dry… choking… chalky texture of it...

     And still the train crawled… upwards… at a snail's pace… unwilling to go any faster...  And still there were the endless piles… of stone rubble... mile after mile... 

     What an ordeal it was for us all… as we choke-breathed in… the thick dust… barely able to croak out our discomfiture… as we sat huddled miserably… in the unbearable heat… trying futilely… to shield our heads… with our arms… crazily hoping… to keep some of the dust out… each one of us silently and desperately… praying for deliverance...

     Trips to the washroom… to get our handkerchiefs… saturated with water… to help relieve some of the discomfort… were fruitless… since there were already long queues… of equally suffering passengers… waiting in line… with the same idea in mind...

     It seemed as if our train… was carrying most of the population… of Southern Spain - everybody headed up… towards Madrid… situated in the very middle… of the country… between east and west… and north and south… leaving their pitiful lives of pittance… behind them…

     Sick to their very souls… of having to scrape their fingers… to the bone… for their meager living... in the rubble… of what was once… one of the most richly fertile areas of Spain…  dreaming their dreams… born of desperation… in hopes of finding new beginnings… in the comparatively undestroyed city of Madrid... 

     All these desperate natives… of the land… asked for… was another chance… to live… where they could earn an honest day's work… so that they could… once more… hold up their proud heads... defiantly letting the world know… that they were not yet beaten… into the dust… of Spanish soil… which had run red… and soaked through… with the spilled blood of its courageous defenders...

     I found myself thinking… of dear old Mr. Ruetli… and the gentle Behrens… and their adorable little son… baby Rainer… who were probably already in Switzerland… wondering how they had survived the ordeal… of crossing Spain… on a slow-as-a-snail train...  

     The only bright spots… during that long… hot second day… when the train ground… to yet another slow halt… at some local station… on the outskirts… of some undistinguishable little village… was to be able to purchase… from little boys… their skeletal bones sticking out… their puny bodies… barely covered in rags… bags and bags… of the most delicious oranges… I have ever eaten… bright orangy-pink… on the outside… blood red… and sweetly juicy… on the inside… from the famous province of Valencia... where they were cultivated…
  
     The following pathetic scenario… never failed to repeat itself…:

     As soon as the train came abreast… of yet another outdoor station platform… hordes of hollow-cheeked… gaunt youngsters… would converge on it… in swarms… holding up their wares… of exquisitely wrought… wooden handcrafts… colorfully woven serapes… and blankets… and the world famous… Valencia oranges - no other food was available... 

     And they would lift up their skinny arms… all of them holding aloft… their precious merchandise… even standing on tiptoe… on their trembling… spindly legs… barely reaching up to the windows… of the train… with beseeching looks of desperation… in their eyes…

     And at the pitiful sight… my heart would go out to them… and I would fiercely wish… that I had the money… to buy all their wares from them... so that they would at least have enough money… for a while… to feed the hungry mouths… of their families… and keep the ravening wolves of starvation… from their doors...

     The monotonous scenery… of heartbreak and ruin… mile after mile… on both sides… of the railway tracks… was extremely hard… for sensitive me… to take in stride… and I found myself weeping… in heartfelt sympathy… for the sad plight… of these proud Spanish people… so obviously having been brought down very low… by their       t ruler Franco’s greed for power... 

     And I sent up a silent prayer… for the wellbeing… of all those          souls… who had… and still were suffering… so much privation… fervently hoping that the Spanish people… had finally learned their lesson… that selfish greed corrupts… and can only bring misery… to everyone it touches… in its wake...

     We finally… and at long last… of almost unbearable endurance… of the onslaught of dust… and relentless heat… chugged into the comparatively dust-free city of Madrid… at dusk... 

     And of a sudden… there was no more sad rubble… to be seen… no more ruined landmarks… and I thought to myself…:

     "Thank God my eyes don't have to behold… anymore pitiful scenes of devastation... and my body have to endure the effects of it" … and as my stomach suddenly let out an ominous growl…: "... and I hope we can finally get a decent hot meal now...!" 

     Then the announcement came… down the cars… that there was to be an unexpected hitch… and that the French train… would not be travelling on… into France… after all… for there was a rumor circulating… that the Germans… had just marched across the French border… up north… into "la belle France"...! 

     We were further informed… that all passengers would be put up… for the night… at the finest hotel… Madrid had to offer… at Wagons Lits’ expense… of course… and that there would be a neutral Spanish train… available to them… the following afternoon… one that would safely take them on… for the rest of their journey... to Switzerland…!  

CHAPTER  FOUR   

YOURS TRULY… IS BROUGHT VERY HIGH… AND THEN BROUGHT VERY LOW… IN MADRID…!

     As we finally stood at the counter… of the opulent… grand hotel… to sign in… surrendering our passports… all of us weary… dusty and dirty… I hardly noticed the four room keys… placed in front of us…

     Naturally… I thought that Prima and I would be sharing a room… as usual… and wondered… half awake… what the extra fourth key was for…    

     And when the reception clerk explained… at Papa’s questioning… that we were to have… at our disposal… compliments of the hotel… suites of our own… the import of what he was saying… still didn’t register…!

     Not even when Papa and Xenia designated… where all the luggage should go to…    

     Not until we were escorted… up to our rooms… in the ornate elevator… by the smartly uniformed hotel porter… keys in hand… who first opened… one enormously tall double door… of white… with gold trimmed edges… beckoning for Papa and Xenia to follow him…

     Then reemerging… a short while later… while Prima… Remo and I… stood in the long… carpeted hall… with its ornate wallpaper… of white and gold… waiting… he proceeded down the hall… to another… similar tall double door… opening it with another key… beckoning for Remo to follow him… and coming out… a short while later… escorted his last two ladies… a little further down the ornate hallway…

     Coming to yet another tall… white and gold double door… he opened it… and beckoned to Prima… to follow him… so we both entered what I saw… to be an enormous suite… very richly furnished… and seeing the enormous bed… through a doorway… made a beeline for it… wanting nothing more… than to thrown myself down on it… because I was so exhausted…

     But the porter stopped me… and quickly handing Prima… the enormous key… to the suite… he beckoned that I should follow him outside…! 

     And to my amazement… he led me to the very next tall double door… next to Prima’s… and opened it with the fourth key…!

     And intimating that I should follow him inside… he led the way… into the most gorgeous… luxurious hotel suite… I had ever seen… far more opulent… than our hotel suite… at the Swiss Dauphin Hotel… in Manhattan…!

     And as I stood in the middle… of the exquisitely furnished suite… with its rich décor… of white and gold… it finally dawned on my befuddled… exhausted mind… that all this richness… was being given to me… all mine… my very own hotel suite… to luxuriate in…!

     I wasn’t dreaming… for there… right in front of me… were my very own suitcases…!
    
     The luxury of the spacious hotel suite… after having had to endure the increasingly narrow… stifling confinement… of our train compartment… for the past twenty-four hours… twelve of them dust-filled… was most welcome… indeed…

     And after freshening ourselves up… shedding ourselves of our dusty clothing… and putting on fresh ones… we sat down to a sumptuous feast… of delicious Spanish specialities... in the enormous hotel dining room… 

     Treated like royalty… by the hotel staff… we were perfectly served… with everything cooked to perfection… each enticing entrée platter… such as Paella… pungently redolent… of garlic and spices... and virgin olive oil... the sumptuous meal… topped off with their famous dessert… called "flan"… a kind of caramel custard… which I did not care for...  For some reason… my palate has never been able to tolerate anything… tasting of burnt sugar... such as butterscotch...
    
     And that night… after a quick hot sitz bath… so tired… that I did not even realize… that I could lie… full length in it… with my tummy… happily full to bursting… and for once… too tired to brush my loose tresses… a hundred times… I fell into the soft folds… of the bedcovers… falling fast asleep… before my head even touched the pillow... feeling deliciously Delivered… by the Loving Hands… of my Heavenly Father...

     The following morning… bright and early… I awoke to the sun… streaming in through the French glass doors… and running to them… dressed in my pure silk… bright red… Chinese pajamas… noticed that my hotel suite… boasted a narrow wrought iron balcony… and how similarly to the one… situated in Lisbon… the hotel was… likewise sitting on a square… in the middle of the city… from which I could survey the beautiful… lush landscape… for miles around... 

     And standing there… gratefully breathing in free… dust-free air… for a welcome change… I thought to myself… how similar in looks to Lisbon… Madrid was… with the same highly sculptured… elaborately carved edifices… with smaller buildings… humbly nestled… inbetween tall ornate ones...

     But I did not get a sense… of quaint old-fashioned charm… as I did in Lisbon…  but I did get a sense of the passion… and pride… of the Spanish people… fiercely burning… in their breasts… as I noticed how one handsome man after another… walked nobly… just barely short of strutting… his head held high…

     And how the olive-skinned senoritas… many dressed in colorful native costumes… exhibited themselves proudly… in the streets… their beautiful dark eyes… smoldering with barely concealed looks… of pretended haughty disdain… but very aware… of how the arrogant men… cast them piercing glances… as they glided past them… their wide skirts swishing...

     From the way their bodies… undulated seductively… I almost expected them to break out… into the passionate dance of the flamenco… any moment… clicking their castanets...! 

     And as I watched… fascinated… I thought to myself that this romantic tableau… of veiled seduction… before me… was much more exciting… by far… than watching a movie...!

     Reluctantly stepping back… into the cool interior… of my opulent suite… for I could have stayed there… on the balcony… gazing out at the fascinating scene below… forever and ever… I idly wondered… whether Prima was now with her beloved Alan… 

     And just as I did so… there was a discreet tapping… on the door… and going to open it… there in front of me… stood a smartly uniformed waiter… dark and devilishly handsome... who… with a deferential bow… smilingly walked past my astonished gaze… into the room… wheeling a cart… laden with dishes and platters… announcing… with a gleaming smile…: 

     “La Bella Senorita's breakfast - compliments of the hotel...!”

     After he silently withdrew... all I could do was stand there… as if rooted to the spot… all kinds of emotions… flooding through my being… at this most unexpected event... 

     Never before in my life… had I been exclusively served… by a waiter... nor in the privacy… of a plush… luxurious hotel suite...!  And I couldn't quite accept it… as a natural happening… within the bounds… of my limited experience...  All I could do was stand there… like an idiot… gawking... wondering whether I was dreaming...

     Then my tummy let out an awesome growl... bringing me abruptly to the present...  And delighted that I was not in the middle… of a fairy tale dream… after all… my body galvanized into action… and tossing my mane of hair back… I whipped off the protective cloth from the cart… and beheld a feast… fit for a queen…! 

     Lifting off the cover… from one of the silver containers… a tantalizing whiff of aromatic herbs and spices… assailed my quivering nostrils… and my bulging eyes beheld… sitting neatly… on the enormous oval platter… an assortment of delectable meats… such as calve's tongue… and cheese-sausage… tiny round broiled tomatoes… and a spicy potato pancake… everything prettily garnished with sprigs of something leafy… and bright green… that I had never seen before... 

     Gingerly I took a bite… of the small leaf… off its stem… and instantly fell in love… with the taste of what I later came to know… was called parsley... 

     Ever since… I have always relished nibbling… on these delicious sprigs of colorful green… and never leave them uneaten on platters… often asking… whomever I happen to be dining with… whether I could please have them… since it is obvious that they have no intention of eating them…

     Sometimes… even helping myself unabashedly to them… from other uneaten diner's plates…!  They are so healthy… and good for one's health… full of good things… such as chlorophyll… which naturally sweetens one's breath... 

     Another dish held homemade bread… rough and heavy in texture… and there was also yellow butter… and a small jar of thick… golden honey… for me to partake of... 

     And to drink… there was a large pot of steaming… pale brown… hot coffee… already liberally mixed with milk… and sweetened...  And of course… the standard bowl… of the most delicious Valencia oranges...
  
     I gorged myself… savoring each and every morsel… sitting on the ornately carved… fragile-looking Louis XIV chair… at the small… round… ornately carved table… every inch of my excited body… feeling like a member of royalty... a stately queen...! 

     And after I had finished dining… on my delectable feast... feeling to take full advantage… of the unexpected windfall of elegance... and unexpected privacy... decided to treat myself… to another nice… long… luxurious bath… in the ornate bathroom...

     From long habit… first on board the Klipfontein… then later at the Dauphin Hotel… I removed the silver bangles… from my wrist… which had been my Christmas present… on board ship… from Papa… laying them down… on the ornate dressing table… as usual... 

     But just as I did so… an odd feeling… that I should not leave them there… swept over me...!  But still enjoying the heady sensation… of feeling like a queen… I shrugged off the odd queasiness… and chastising myself… laughed… leaving them lying there… on the dressing table… shiny bright… all twelve of them… sitting neatly in a row... 

     Then… catching a glimpse of my happy face… in the huge carved mirror… on the wall… above the dressing table… I stood back… admiring myself... regretting… with a sigh… that my gangly… skinny form… was not alluringly draped… in some filmy pink negligee… yards and yards of diaphanous material… billowing out behind me… like lovely Ginger Rogers wore… so often… in her musicals with Fred Astaire… to suit the opulence… of the elegant hotel suite… instead of the common… Chinese red… pure silk pajamas… Papa had given me last Christmas… in Japan...  even though I knew they were expensive…

     Shrugging… I started to glide across the room… headed for the bathroom... loving the sensation… of my bare feet… sinking into the rich texture… of the lush… snow-white carpeting… underneath... telling myself that nothing… but nothing… was going to spoil the glorious richness… of my special… “Queen for a Day...”
 
     While I was soaking in the large… old-fashioned bathtub… made of snow-white porcelain… happy as a lark… to be able to submerge… the whole length of my five foot eight body… stretched out all the way… completely… in a long tub… for a change… enjoying the delicious feel… of the oily hot… perfumed water… lapping against my skin… from the bath salts… I had lavishly sprinkled into the bath… I heard sounds of movement… coming from the bedroom… and idly thought it must be the hotel maid… come to clean and tidy up... and used her as an excuse… to stay in the bathtub longer...

     I was almost dozing off... when I suddenly realized… that I had been in the tub… an awfully long time... and cocking an ear… wondering about the hotel maid… hearing no more sounds… was satisfied that she had gone... 

     I got out… feeling squeaky clean… from head to toe… my whole body scented… with rich perfume - it was amazing how much black dust… came out of my hair… when I shampooed it - towelled myself off… in a thick terry cloth towel… provided by the first-class hotel… and reemerged… sauntering majestically back… into the opulent… plush bedroom suite...

     ...And the first thing I noticed… was that my precious silver bangles… my cherished Christmas present… from Papa… were glaringly gone... vanished into thin air...!

     My euphoric bubble… suddenly burst… and I felt sick to my stomach… and dropping to my knees… searched frantically… for the precious pieces… of the very first jewelry… I had ever owned… groping along every inch… of the rich plush… snow-white carpet… my urgent fingers… digging into the thick pile...  I even peered under the bed… in the fond hope… that they might somehow… have fallen off the dressing table… and rolled underneath it... 

     All the time I feverishly hunted for them… I kept chastising myself… for having been so stupidly careless - I should have realized… that the temptation… to steal something valuable… such as my twelve shiny bangles… made of genuine… pure silver… would have been almost impossible to resist… for a lowly-paid hotel maid… 

     Trying desperately to distract myself… from the awful gnawing… in the pit of my stomach… at my heart-breaking loss… I deliberately forced myself… to ponder on the fact… that the poor woman - I had no idea how old she was… for I had never laid eyes on her - probably needed them… far more than I did... 

     And ultimately giving up the frantic search… I consoled myself… with the noble… generous thought… that the high price fetched… from selling genuine silver jewelry… would help the girl… or woman… feed the hungry mouths of her family… for a while… at least...
                
     So I would not be reporting her… to the hotel manager… for she would surely have been fired… if I did…  And I hoped against hope… that Papa would not notice… that the jangling bangles… which I always wore… and the sight of which… always pleased him… were missing from my wrist…!

CHAPTER  FIVE

ANOTHER SLOW… DREARY TRAIN JOURNEY… ACROSS THE HEARTBREAKING DEVASTATION OF SPAIN…!

     My putting somebody else's more than probable needs… before mine… helped stem the recurring spreading… of the awful sick feeling… in the pit of my stomach… every time I was reminded… of the sudden loss… of my precious bangles...

     At the same time… it would dawn on me… that I would most certainly be in… for a good tongue-lashing - no doubt about it - especially as soon as Xenia's sharp… beady eyes… past which nothing ever escaped… unnoticed… saw that the bangles… which she knew I wore constantly… and never took off… except for bathing… and going to bed… for the night… were conspicuously absent… from my left wrist...  

     Upon sight of which… she would… no doubt… gleefully pounce on me… with a shrill… irritating…:

     "Grad-zella... vai arr yu nott vearrink de beautiful… expenssive silveer benkles… zat Papa and I gev yu forr Chriestmass…?"  … pointing accusingly… at my bare left arm...

     And while I was thinking these dark thoughts… feeling the awful queasiness… in my stomach… all over again… and becoming gloomier and gloomier… by the minute… Prima suddenly burst through the doorway… panting and out of breath…:

     "Hurry up and get dressed... we've got less than twenty minutes to get packed… and be downstairs...!"

     The note of urgency… in her voice… as I stood before her… stark naked… snapped me out of the doldrums… and in the concentration… of quickly getting myself dressed and packed… I put aside… for the moment… all thoughts… of my painful loss… very grateful… that Prima did not notice… how close to tears I was… which undoubtedly… would have led to renewed… pain-provoking questions by her...

     And when we finally reached downstairs… racing all the way… we were just in time… to get pulled into the taxi… by Remo… Papa and Xenia... being already installed… in the interior of it… Xenia impatient and fretting… that we would miss the train...

     Then she noticed… that my thick golden tresses… were gloriously loose and flowing… the way in which I longed to wear my hair… and although still slightly damp… from my bath… not having had enough time to braid it… she ordered me abruptly… to turn my back to her… and braided my tick tresses…  into the hated pigtails… which always reminded me of my longing… for the day to come… when I would no longer have to hide my glorious… crowning golden glory…    

      And as she braided my hair… in the darkness of the taxi… as it speeded towards the train station… I was very glad… that she had not noticed… that the shiny bangles… were missing from my wrist…!   

     And very surprised… when she produced two narrow strands… of bright red ribbon… from somewhere… and tied bows onto the ends of my pigtails… over the usual rubber bands… saying…:

     “Grad-zella… I no how much yu want to veer yur hair like Prima… so I tot de pritty ribbons… wud mek yu heppy…!”      

     And I just sat there… stunned… my throat all choked up… and very moved… by this odd step-mother of mine… barely able to thank her… for her rare thoughtfulness…

     But as things turned out… we were more than early… for one hitch after another… delayed the departure of the train... with much shouting… cursing and shaking of fists… at each other… by the engineers… porters… and irate… red-faced passengers… who futilely huffed and puffed… their indignant frustrations...

     As we were to learn… the Spaniards are notoriously known… for their utter disinterest… in beating the clock... hence their penchant… for infuriating tardiness… and procrastination… if you happen to be a non-Latin type... 

     Any time something… needs to be done… the usual response is..: "Si si… manana...!" … always preferring to delay… to the next day… anything that needs to be done today...! 

     And no amount of cajoling… or offers of extra money… will be an incentive for them… to work any faster... the innately stubborn streak… in their character… insists on taking things easy… carrying out their chores… at a leisurely pace...  Perhaps that is why so few Spaniards… have heart attacks...?

     Thus… instead of the train leaving Madrid… at eleven that morning… it finally… slowly steamed out of the station… at a little before three… so that for close to four hours… we were forced to sit… confined to our carriage… with every ten minutes or so… falsely being informed… that we were about to move off...!

     Compelled to sit on the train… with other people… packed in… shoulder to shoulder… like sardines - without the privacy of our own compartment this time… suffering the stifling stench… of sweat-drenched… unwashed bodies… and the airless heat… of over 95 degrees… two quite dreadful combinations… that were almost unbearable… to endure… made me almost lose consciousness… at times...

     And still not a single word… was said… about my missing bangles… my parents too absorbed… and caught up… in their own frustrated feelings of distress…

     But strangely… the sight of my perky bright red ribbons… on both sides of my now slightly growing breasts… did serve to cheer me up… from time to time… making my discomfort… a little more bearable…!    

     When we finally… actually did feel the jolting motion… of the wheels… under our feet… signalling that we were indeed about to move… we all held our breaths… praying that this time… it would not be a false alarm... 

     But there was the unmistaken sound of a chug... then another... and the wheels… groaning and squeaking… we lurched... and gradually inched forward... slowly at first… then a little faster… out of the sweltering… cavern-like darkness… of the train station… into the blinding light of day... into mid-afternoon...

     But if we had hoped… for some relief… there was none...  In fact… it was worse… for now we had the blinding sunlight… streaming in through the unshaded windows… on both sides of the carriage… to contend with…

     And then… in no time at all… it seemed… the civilized… beautiful city of Madrid…  being left behind us… we were once again… gazing out upon devastating scenes… of ruins and rubble... 

     And the further we travelled… upwards… towards the French border… so were we once more subjected… to the most unpleasant experience… of being forced to inhale… the infernal black dust which… like before… gradually seeped in… through the cracks… of the windowpanes… the fine particles of grain… insinuating into our clothing… and onto our skin… stopping up our noses… and clogging our throats… the thickness of it chokingly unpleasant... 

     And throughout the whole carriage… one could hear people…         and coughing… desperately trying not to deeply breathe in… the only air available…: dust and stench-filled pollution... 

     It was a living nightmare… and another test of endurance… all over again... and as on the last Portuguese train… this Spanish train… also inched along… refusing to go any faster... mile after slow… strangling mile... upwards… stopping for long periods of time… at every little village… or platform… and sometimes no platform… the snail train simply stopping… to pick up bedraggled-looking passengers… standing at the side of the railway tracks… along the way...

     And as before… the same pathetic… heartbreaking scene… repeated itself…: 

     Skinny… "rags-and-bones" boys… would converge on the train… like a pack of hungry wolves… half-starved… their huge… haunted eyes… staring out of hollow-cheeked sockets... having seen much too much… of the effects of human deprivation… for children so young - many of them only nine and ten year olds…

     And… despite my own hellish discomfort… my heart would go out to them… and their plight… and I would fervently wish… once again… that I had the money… to buy up all their beautiful… life-like wood carvings... and all their blood-red Valencia oranges...

     But unlike the previous train trip… through Portugal… this time… the desperate people… that boarded the train… came on it… with their pungently smelly livestock… consisting primarily… of bleating goats… and clucking live chickens… in straw baskets…!

     And the added stench… and noise… of animals… to the already overpowering odors… of unwashed body sweat… was intolerable… to say the least...

     Papa and Remo took turns… half-heartedly taking trips… to the one tiny washroom… at the other end… of the carriage… armed with little strips of cloth handkerchiefs… from us all… hoping that the endless queue… in front of it… would have shortened considerably... but it seemed to be getting longer and longer… each time they went to investigate...

     Then mercifully… at about six o'clock… in the evening… while we tried to doze off… leaning on each other's shoulders… the blazing hot sun… finally set… abruptly disappearing… behind a low hill… in the distance… and dusk crept over us… for a very brief while… then plunged us… into total darkness... 

     Then after about twenty minutes or so… the interior of our car… was lit up… with a feeble yellowish light… and our dejected spirits… perked up a bit… until we realized… that the light was much too dim… to read… or play cards by...

     We had long ago… already consumed… the two flasks of iced water… that Xenia had prudently procured… from the hotel kitchen… back in Madrid... and there were still hours to go… before we reached the French border...

     Now that it was pitch black outside… it seemed as if the train stopped… more frequently… and for even longer periods of time... 

     And every time it stopped… creeping cold air… would permeate our carriage… until we were all wearing extra sweaters… and with our fellow passengers… sitting huddled… even closer together… practically sitting… in each other's laps… our lips chattering… and involuntary shivers… attacking our chilled bodies… right down to the marrow... that we all even put on our winter overcoats… until we all looked like fat… stuffed penguins… especially Xenia… in her rich Russian sable fur coat…
    
     Then… when we felt that we could not stand another second… of our miserable suffering… at about ten o'clock… the conductor swept through our carriage… stopping every now and again… to deposit lunch boxes… followed by his assistant… bearing steaming mugs of beverages… who cheerfully offered us… a choice of tea… or coffee...

     Never in my life… had anything been so welcome… as the meager contents… of the lunch boxes… and as I devoured… my thinly filled sandwiches… one of sardines… and the other of egg… and gulped down the sweetened hot tea… and sucked on the customary… succulent      -red Valencia orange… I Sent Up a grateful prayer… to my Heavenly Father… thanking Him… For His Oh So Timely Deliverance...

     And with my tummy… somewhat fullish and warm… I snuggled down… next to Prima… leaning on her shoulder… sighing contentedly… doing my best… to shut out the fetid odors… pervading the atmosphere… so nastily… thanking God… that at least… the animals were now sleeping… their noisy bleating… and clucking… finally stopped… and found myself feeling drowsy... soon drifting off to pleasant dreams... in the now utterly quiet train carriage…

CHAPTER  SIX    

THE RUDE SHOCK OF OUR LIVES… WHEN WE ARE BODILY THROWN OFF THE TRAIN… BECAUSE OF ME…!

     It seemed but a moment later… when I was rudely woken up… by the train coming to a jolting… abrupt halt… and rubbing my eyes… tried to peer outside the window… to see whether we had already crossed the French border... 

     But all I could see… was nothing but total… pitch black darkness… even when I raised my eyes heavenward... and my heart sank a little… to see that there were neither moon… nor stars… shining above my head... that night…

     Then an eerie feeling… of having sunk into some huge… black            pit… suddenly engulfed my body… from head to toe… and I shivered involuntarily… with a stab of fear... 

     And I "knew"  … with a certainty… that something great… and unexpectedly ominous… was about to befall us...!

     And sure enough… as I leaned back… focussing my attention… on the more friendly… lit up interior… of the train… the rumor filtered down to us… in excited whispers… that we were actually stopped… at the Spanish/French border...!

     And after an interminable time… of sitting silently stationary… amongst people… of highly charged Latin temperament… hard put to hold in their breath… their eyes sparkling… in excited anticipation… of the drama about to unfold before them - giving us the clear impression… that we were lodged… in the middle of a volcano… about to erupt in full force… any second… - the rumor spread… like wildfire… that there were uniformed officials… boarding our train... !

     Immediately the rumor… reached our carriage… the excited whispers… burst into a cacophony of noise… people vehemently gesticulating… voicing their speculations and opinions… some sitting wringing their hands… in supplication to their Madre de Dios… feverishly mumbling their prayers...

     And amidst all this noise and tumult… an extremely handsome and tall… olive-skinned Spaniard… resplendent in a uniform… glittering with medals… and with braided epaulettes… at his shoulders… boots polished to a high gloss… suddenly made an appearance… at the other end… of our doorway…

     And casting a swift appraising glance… over the passengers… his dark eyes flashing… proceeded to strut arrogantly… towards us… stopping to check each passenger… hardly taking more… than a brief moment… to examine the papers… of his own people… but taking much longer… his manner downright hostile… and greatly suspicious… when looking over official documents… of white-skinned foreigners...!

     Thus he finally arrived… at our end… and officiously began barking out orders to Papa… to produce all passports… and visas… of his family… "pronto" …

     And Papa duly complied… speaking pleasantly… to the official… in fluent Spanish… in the hope of softening… his obvious stiff air of hostility...

     But all Papa's efforts at camaraderie… resulted in a curt uplifting… of the arrogant official’s hand… silencing him… with a piercing… disdainful look… from the pompous man...

     And I had to fight the overwhelming urge… to jump up… and slap his face… mightily… for being so blatantly rude… to my very brave father... who had never once… shown his fear… to his family… during the whole dangerous… perilous journey… from Japan… to Europe… 

     And as if reading my thoughts… his eyes suddenly flicked over towards me... then ran insolently… down my body… like black blades… of ice-cold steel... making me suddenly feel unpleasantly       and exposed… despite all my heavy covering… and I shuddered… my face flushing red… with embarrassment...

     He lingered an extremely long time… over our papers… minutely and painstakingly… examining each passport... 

     Then glancing through the last passport - mine - a frown crept over his features... 

     And looking down at Papa… he shouted out something… that sounded like…:  “Vuestros esposa…!” … his perfect white teeth flashing… through his thin… Clark Gable moustache… in an insolent grin... his finger jabbing in my direction...!

     Then I saw Papa… get red in the face… with a stunned expression… shocked... his mouth dropping open...  Then he shook his head vehemently… trying to explain something… to the arrogant official… saying something like “No no… esta es mi esposa…”  … taking Xenia's arm… and shaking it… to prove a point… But the official only snorted disdainfully… dumping our passports unceremoniously… onto Papa's lap...! 

     Then he just stood there… his hands on his hips… teetering back and forth… on his heels... his piercing black gaze… raking each and every one of us… for the longest time… but lingering on me… the longest...!

     Then I made the biggest mistake… of my life… by jumping to my feet… prepared to do battle… with this arrogant… strutting… pompous nincompoop… 

     Because… when he saw how tall I was… standing nose to nose with him… a huge look of understanding… flashed into his eyes… and shaking his head… pointing at Xenia… who was now sitting cowering… against her beloved husband… he insisted…:

     “Ella es vuestros hermana… la duenna por vuestros familia… no es vuestros esposa… si si…!” … rapidly saying some more words in Spanish… nodding his head up and down… for emphasis… at the same time… roughly pushing me back down… on my seat… with one huge hand…  

     And as his black gaze… bored into mine… filled with an expression of suspicion… I stared right back up at him… defiantly… my fierce blue glare… never wavering from his...  Even though he was physically stronger… this pompous ass… was not … going to get the better of me... no siree…

     Then Xenia… still tightly clutching… her enormous straw hamper… on her lap… started to whimper… and looking up at her husband… tearfully asked… in a quavering voice…:

     "Theo... vat iss itt... vat iss ronk... vat iss heppenink...?"

     And I could hardly believe my ears… when Papa abruptly answered her… in a fierce whisper… at the same time… flicking a look of annoyance… over at me…:

     "He simply refuses to believe… that Graziella is my daughter... for some reason… he is convinced… that she is my wife...!!!  And that you are my sister… and caretaker of my family…!  He keeps on insisting… that he knows it to be true…!" … glaring at me now… with unconcealed anger... as if his embarrassing predicament… was all my fault...!

     And as the import… of his words washed over me… and sunk in… all I could do was sit there… in utter astonishment… listening to Papa fiercely whisper… the mind-boggling words... to his beloved wife… Xenia…!

     Then the arrogant official… startled us… by abruptly barking out an order to Papa… and grabbing him by the arm… swept up all the passports… off his lap… putting them into his pocket… and hauled him… to his feet...! 

     And before I knew it… we were all being roughly manhandled… and being shoved… through the doorway... and then thrown off the train... one by one… Xenia still hanging on… for dear life… to her precious food hamper… and vanity case… Prima clutching her vanity case… with the rest of our luggage… thrown out after us... after a few moments…!

     And as the five of us… stood huddled there… in the icy cold… pitch black of night… without any idea… where we were… our luggage scattered around… at our feet… none of us daring to think… how we would be able to manage… to get to Zurich… without our precious life-line passports… we reeled in collective bewilderment… at having had our fate… so cruelly changed… in an instant… and so abruptly…!

     And then something sharp… hit my face… stinging it painfully… and instantly reacting… reaching up… my fingers curled around… what felt like a small booklet… before it hit the ground…  And at the same time… something hit my shoes… And bending down… I felt around… realizing that another small booklet… had been thrown at me…!

     Wondering “What on earth…?” … it suddenly dawned on me… that the small booklets… being thrown off the train… must be our precious passports…! 

     And excitedly telling my family… about them… everybody else bent down… feverishly groping around for them… on the ground… and despite the pitch black… of the dark… Miraculously… all five precious passports… were retrieved…I

     Now that our precious belongings of luggage… and passports… were restored to us… we were a little more relieved… but then watched helplessly… as the dimly lit train… disappeared into the distance... plunging us all back… into total pitch black darkness…
  
     Sensing my family… standing so forlornly… at my side… I felt a stab of overwhelming guilt… that I had been the cause… of us being thrown off the train...! 

     And as the enormity… of my innocent culpability sank in… I simply wanted to curl up and die... then and there... for having inadvertently been the instrument… of causing them… their present dire predicament… and feelings of confusion...

     I was just about to suggest to Papa… that he have no more to do with me… but to disown me... abandon me... when I was surprised to hear him chortling…: 

     "Well... it won't do us any good… to just stand here... so let us make the best… of our unfortunate situation… and try to find out where we are... 

     Remo… take off your belt… and loop it through as many suitcases… as you can… and carry them hanging… from your neck… and I’ll do the same… Xenia will be holding onto her precious food hamper… and her vanity case… and Prima her vanity case…” 

     In the pitch black… I could hear the sound of Papa and Remo… removing their belts… and dealing with all the suitcases…

     Then I heard Papa’s voice… once again… saying…:

     “Now that that’s been done… let us all link our arms together… so that we don’t lose track… of each other… in this devilish dark… and let us start walking... in the direction the train went… otherwise we will all freeze to death...!"

     Now that the dimly lit train was gone… we could not see anything at all… neither each other… nor even our hands… in front of our faces… so that Papa's voice… was eerily disembodied… in the pitch-black… freezing cold… inky darkness...

     Then I heard Remo's angry voice… tinged with fear… as he roughly groped for my arm… and linked it through his… hissing…: 

     "It's all your fault… Crazy-Ella… … that we're in this hopeless mess… I hope you're satisfied...!" … using a mean… teasing… hurtful epithet… I hadn’t heard… from him… since Japan…

     To which Papa sharply rebuked him… saying…:

     "Come on… Remo... you know better than that... it's not Graziella's fault… that she’s much taller… than she should be… for her age… her height making her look… so much more grown up… besides the fact… that she doesn’t resemble any one of us… with her blonde hair… and blue eyes… It was quite natural… for that idiot Spanish official… to be suspicious… in these uncertain times… of war…”

     Then… his voice softening…:    

     Now surely you're not afraid… of a little setback... are you…?  Trust your Papa... has he ever let you down…?  No...  and he never will...!"

     To which Remo… feeling quite ashamed… of his outburst… sheepishly squeezed my arm… murmuring affectionately…:

     "Sorry kiddo... I didn't mean what I just said... friends again...?"

     And my heart singing… I squeezed his arm right back… implying yes… and almost skipping… jauntily and proudly… walked at his side… my infernal pigtails… with their new bright red ribbons… now tucked inside my new New York… Shirley Temple… winter overcoat… with Prima on my other arm… holding her vanity case tightly… in front of her… and clinging to me so hard… that I lost all feeling in it... 

     And I realized… with my heart full of sympathy for her… that she was still petrified… of the dark... as a result of the many times… when Papa locked her up… in a dark closet… when she was little… in an effort to control her wild… wayward… gypsy ways…

     Groping our way forward… we sensed that we had been thrown off… at some siding or other… and felt under our feet… that we were walking on a narrow… wooden platform… which soon sloped downward… a few feet further on… depositing us on rocky ground...

     Still linked to each other… arm in arm… we made our way gingerly forward… and although my eyes grew accustomed… to the dark… I was still unable to see a thing… in front of my face… but I could hear the slight thumping noise… the suitcases made… slung from Papa’s and Remo’s necks…

     Then Papa suggested… that we march briskly… to keep our bodies… from getting too chilled… and we suddenly heard him singing out… the old familiar marching refrain… in his beautifully melodic… lyrical tenor voice… making me wish… he had his guitar with him…:

     "Left... left... left my wife with forty-five chil-dren... Right... right... right in the mid-dle of the kitchen ta-ble...!"

     And as we marched in tempo… our voices blending with his… in perfect harmony… especially mine… for we had sung many duets together… over the years… following his lead… fond memories… flooded through my mind…

     Recalling the carefree days… when Papa… Xenia and I… went hiking together… exploring the beautiful countryside of Japan… and how often… Papa and I would briskly march together… loudly belting out the stupid… inane words… in unison… with poor Xenia… panting… her cheeks huffing and puffing... her mincing little steps… desperately trying to keep up with our long strides...
  
      And just as she did then… so did she spoil our fun… shortly after… by panting… huffing and puffing… begging Papa to slow down...  So he reluctantly slowed us down to a walk again...

     And as we trudged along… at a slow walk… for some reason… I was reminiscing about the time… when I was about seven… when Papa tested my courage…  while hiking along together… through the beautiful mountains… above Nara…
    
     We happened to be walking along a narrow dirt road… both sides of which sloped sharply upward… for about three feet… into dense shrubbery… when all of a sudden… from out of nowhere… a great big black… maddened bull… with huge… jutting sharp horns… came thundering down the narrow road towards us…
    
     I happened to be walking… in front of Papa and Xenia… at the time… because the road was too narrow… for the three of us to be walking… side by side… 

     And at the sight of the huge beast… my heart stopped with fright… and I was rooted to the spot… as it came galloping… dangerously closer and closer… snorting… with its nostrils flaring…!

     As I stood there… as if turned to stone… I heard Papa laughingly say… behind me…:

     “Well Graziella… what are you going to do now…!?  

     And his challenging voice… vaguely realizing… with a shock… that he was addressing me… by my given Christened name… which he hardly ever did… galvanized me into action…

     And before I knew it… I found myself… at the top of a telephone pole… both my long monkey arms… tightly wrapped around it… hanging on for dear life…!  And had absolutely no idea… how I had gotten up there…!!!  

     But from that safe height… I barely caught sight of Papa… way down below… easily scooping his beloved… up into his arms… and agilely leaping up the steep embankment… opposite… with her… to safety… as the snorting bull… went lumbering by… beneath me… its flank hitting the pole… shaking it… and the ground… like an earthquake…!
    
     And when Papa… wondering what had happened to me… looked around… and spotted me… way up high… wrapped around the telephone pole… like a monkey… he roared with laughter… saying…:

     “You used your brains… and I’m very proud of you…!”

     And I was so deliriously happy… to be basking in his verbal approval… for the first time in my life… that for the life of me… I couldn’t tell him the truth… that I had no idea… how I had landed… way up on top of the telephone pole…! 

     Secretly thinking to myself… that it must have been my Guardian Angel Friend… Who Had Picked Me Up… And Willy Nilly… Whisked Me Up There…!    

     That was the one… and only time… I was directly praised… by my pater… whose approval… and respect… were a constant striving effort… for me to attain… and it finally took this dangerous incident… with the bull… to get one…!  

     He would praise me to others… I came to learn… as the years went by… but except for that one time… he never did… to my face… 

     On the contrary… he was forever telling me… to try harder… and… “For Heaven’s Sake… USE YOUR BRAINS… DUMB CLUCK…!” … always impatiently frustrated… that I didn’t have any…!

     Now… somewhere in God-forsaken Spain… It seemed as if we were walking… for hours and hours on end… trudging along… our heads bowed down wearily... and my legs were beginning to tire… aching painfully… when Remo suddenly let out a yelp… shouting excitedly…:

     "Look... there's a light... straight on ahead... it seems to be coming out of the ground... maybe it's a campfire...  Why don't I just go on ahead and investigate it… scout around… since I'm able to walk much faster… on my own...?"

     Papa gave his go ahead… and being able to see clearly in the dark… with his green cat's eyes… Remo left our side… walking ahead briskly... with the suitcases… still slung around his neck…

     Papa… blessed with green eyes… as well… also had very good night sight… and watched Remo's progress… with interest for a while...  Then he let out a startled exclamation… stopping us all dead in our tracks…:

     "Well goodness gracious... I just saw Remo suddenly disappear... straight into the ground...!"

     And as we stood there… fidgeting nervously... in a quandary... wondering what to do next... whether to go on ahead… in search of Remo... or to stay put... he suddenly reemerged… minus his load of suitcases… and flanked by what looked like… from the reddish light behind them… two robed and hooded figures… all dressed in black...!

     They approached us for a little distance… then stopped… beckoning for us to come forward… and join them... 

     And as we still stood… rooted to the spot… feeling uncertain - my heart was pounding alarmingly with fear - Remo broke away from them… and ran towards us… shouting…:

     "It's all right... we're among friends... Come on...!"

     And leading the way… he told us excitedly… how he had come upon a huge hole in the ground… out of which a light was faintly shining… and how… when he went down it… to investigate… he had suddenly found himself… in a vast cavern-like… underground chamber...!

     By this time… we had reached the hooded figures… and to our amazement… saw that they were none other than Catholic nuns...! 

     And when they graciously extended their hospitality to us… inviting us… with gentle smiles… to join them… we were all delighted… and very much relieved...

CHAPTER  SEVEN    

OUR MOST AMAZING DELIVERANCE…!  IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE… BY NONE OTHER… THAN CATHOLIC NUNS…!

     Feeling very relieved… and very grateful… we allowed ourselves to be led by the nuns… down into the humble domain… of their vast… highly vaulted… cavern-like underground quarters… 

     And on the way down… I could hear Papa conversing with both of them… in fluent Spanish… as they explained to him… the unfortunate circumstances… which had led to their present deprived situation… 

     Papa translated their sad tale to us… later on… all about how their magnificent convent… had come to be completely destroyed… during the fighting… of their country's Civil War… and how… still lacking funds to rebuild it… they had been forced to remain living there… in the ruins of their home… underground… ever since...!

     The nuns very graciously led us… along a short distance… through a tunnel… shyly murmuring… “Por favor…” … into another vast chamber… bare.. except for one piece of furniture… suggesting that the Senor… “Por favor…”  relieve himself… of his luggage there…

     Then I noticed… that there were hanging lanterns… strategically placed… along the ledge… above the rough… red earthen wall… and on the bare ground… of red earth… a crudely hewn… squat oblong table… made of wood… with lit candles on it… sat on a large… colorful… rough-woven blanket... 

     The nuns… gently smiling… invited us… “Por favor…”  to sit down… on the blanket… shyly and self-effacingly apologizing… for the absence of chairs... 
  
     Studying them intently… noticing how their much too thin bodies… were completely dwarfed… in black robes… their hair… totally covered by cowls… framing their borderline ravaged faces… closely… each one of them wearing a large silver cross… dangling low… from around her neck… I saw that they seemed to be fairly young… the oldest in her mid-thirties… and noticed also... that there was a look of sublime… quiet inner beauty… in the radiance… of their rather plain… gaunt-looking features... 

     And I was very much impressed… and awed… by their calm demeanor… and the air of utter serenity… they exuded… reminding me very much… of Sister Theresa… back at St. Maur's Convent… in Yokohama…

     Especially in view of their paltry situation… in being forced to live… at the poverty level… not to mention… the continual dank darkness… of their bleak surroundings… which must have been terribly depressing for them… to say the least... 

     But when two more nuns joined them… also barely in their twenties… and much too thin… but just as pure-looking… and I noticed how they too… emanated the same gentle… calm aura… of inner quiet… I couldn't help but feel deep feelings of respect… and love for them… as they serenely and smilingly… went about their business… seemingly unaffected… by their oppressive surroundings… and trying circumstances...
  
     Then a vision… of the opulence… and grandeur… of the pope's residence… at the Vatican Palace… in Rome… flashed through my mind… and I found myself wondering… why on earth there was such a huge imbalance… in the Catholic Church... 

     With all their enormous wealth… how could it be… that they were impervious… to the plight… of this remarkable sisterhood of stalwart… sincere Catholic nuns… whose only joy… seemed to be to serve mankind… under the auspices… of their holy father… the pope… 

     And I wondered why the present head… of the Catholic church… Pope Pius II…  had not already long ago… rebuilt their convent for them… above ground… in all its former splendor... now that the last      y… Spanish Civil War… had been over… for at least three years now…
    
     Then all thoughts of the corpulent… healthy pope… presiding over his people… in the opulent comfort… of his Vatican palace… richly decorated in gold… vanished from my mind… when I saw two more skeletal young nuns… come into the chamber… bearing trays of steaming hot bowls of soup for us… the pungent aroma of which… started my mouth salivating… and my tummy growling… making me suddenly aware… of how ravenous I was...

     They set the bowls down… in front of each one of us… with yet another murmurerd… “Por favor…” … and then… with eyes demurely downcast… speaking barely above a whisper… shyly apologized to Papa… for not being able to offer us anything to eat… with the soup…

     Except for their homemade bread… which another nun… surprisingly plump… for a change… brought into the chamber… bearing an ornately carved… silver platter… on which exactly five… large thick slices… of a golden-brown… loaf of bread… were neatly placed… setting it before us… on the table...

     And a stab of guilt… swept through me… as I realized how much it must have cost these wonderful Sisters… to share their meager food with us - what a sacrifice…

     And the tears sprang to my eyes… and I felt terribly ashamed… certain that by consuming… even one precious spoonful… of the delicious vegetable soup… highly flavored with some kind of bean… and spices… and one bite… of the wonderfully smelling… steaming hot bread… I would literally be taking the food… out of their own hungry mouths... 

     And I stared down at my steaming hot… flavorful bowl… totally overcome… the tears now freely coursing… down my cheeks… unable to swallow even one sip… of the soup… or take one bite… of the bread… no matter how starved I was...

     And when I looked up surreptitiously… towards the other members of my family… to see whether they were being as profoundly affected… as I was… I saw that they too sat… stunned… as if turned to stone… unable to touch the delectable feast… placed before them... 

     And for a brief moment… my heart swelled with pride for them… and their obvious sensitivity… for the plight of these poor… half starved nuns...

     Then two remarkable things happened… to change the awful… electric silence… suddenly permeating the chamber... 

     First… one of the nuns… who seemed to be the leader… addressing Papa… suggested that he and his family… begin eating… before the soup got cold... but to please excuse her… and the other Sisters… for withdrawing themselves… from our presence… for this day… the twelfth day of March… was a Catholic Holy Feast Day… to be observed devoutly by them… in prayer… quiet contemplation… and fasting...! 

     And as Papa nodded at her… unable to speak… because of the lump in his throat… she backed away… smiling gently… and picking up a candle… from a crate against the wall… lit it… and leading the way… through one of the pitch black tunnels… left the communal chamber… with her Sisters… walking quietly behind her… in single file... 
 
     And the second thing that happened… was… when she uttered the words… "Twelfth of March" … I saw Papa's face transforming itself… for a moment… into an expression… of comical amazement…

     And no sooner had the skirts of the last nun… disappeared from view… when… with a sheepish look… he looked at each one of us… sitting around the crude table… and shaking his head in disbelief… chortled…:

     "Well… what do you know... bless my soul… it took a Spanish Catholic nun… to remind me… that today is my birthday...! 

     What with all the excitement… and unfortunate circumstances… that befell us today… I had completely forgotten… all about it...! 

     Come… let us all celebrate my 50th year on earth… together… and give thanks to the Lord… for having Delivered us… so fortuitously… into the compassionate hands… of such gracious hosts...!"

     And as the rest of us sat… with our mouths hanging open… and our eyes blinking rapidly… feeling like perfect idiots… at this unexpected piece of news… Papa turned to his beloved Xenia… and jovially asked her… whether they could now partake… of the precious contents… inside her fiercely guarded… food hamper...

     And her whole face lighting up… Xenia proudly produced from behind her… the enormous straw basket… and opening it with a flourish… showed us… that it was packed chock-a-block… with all kinds of delectable… mouth-watering goodies…!

     While we gorged ourselves… on the delicious soup… and bread… accompanied by all kinds of Xenia’s delicacies… such as all kinds of flavorful… imported cheeses… smoked beef sausages… tins of sardines… smoked oysters… asparagus spears… caviar… and hard boiled eggs… and even some dried fruit… that she hoggingly withdrew… from her precious hamper… without letting us see… what else was deep down in there… each one of us… gravely thanked Xenia…

     For she had had the foresight… to buy the food… back in Lisbon… and what a wonderful variety of delectables… the sobering realization… hitting us collectively… that if it hadn't been for her prudence… and common sense… we may very well have found ourselves having to subsist mostly… on Valencia oranges... and who knows for how long… for we were… in all probability… still a long ways away… from our ultimate destination… of Zurich… Switzerland...
  
     Then Papa's face lit up… and winking at us… he announced that he had found the perfect name… for this place of no name… sitting forgotten… way out in the Spanish wilderness… and looking directly into my eyes… with a piercing look… of his beautiful emerald green eyes… he pointedly remarked…:

     "...So that you will know what to name it… when you write your famous book...!" 
  
     And as I blinked uncomprehendingly… at his words... (which turned out to be prophetic in later years) - for all I had written… so far… were a few poems… dedicated to my Beloved Heavenly Father… Almighty God… and essays for school - he crowed…:

     "We shall call it… "Valencia-Al-Cantara…!" …which means "Valencia-Around-The-Corner...!" 

     And everybody nodded their heads… in smiling agreement… understanding the quirky irony… of his reasoning...

     Then… on impulse… I started off… by leading everybody… into singing the traditional "Happy Birthday" song to Papa… as he blushed happily… with tears in his eyes…

     Then… to his delight… he happened to spot a guitar… standing up in the corner… of the chamber… and picking it up… strummed a few chords on it… 

     And before long… we were singing all our favorite duets… together… such as "Hallelujah I'm a Bum"… "The Music Goes Round and Round”… “La Paloma" (The Dove) … "Chiri-Biri-Bin"…  (my solo)… "Funiculi Funicula"… "O Sole Mio"… "Santa Lucia"… "Sorriento"… "Du Kanst Nicht Treu Sein" (You Can't Be Faithful)… "Hab Ich Nur Deine Liebe" … (If I Only Have Your Love)… (again my solo) …

     And not to forget our favorite Jeanette Macdonald/ Nelson Eddy songs… such as "I'll See You Again"… "Indian Love Call"… "Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life" (my favorite)… and "When We Were Young One Day"... 

     And of course… we had to give a rousing rendition… of his very favorite "San Francisco" … that romantic Cosmopolitan city… being the closest… to his heart... 

     We had never been in better harmony together… as on that wonderfully spontaneous… magical night... of his 50th birthday… his light lyrical tenor voice… soaring… and my rich… clear-as-a-bell soprano… harmonizing… improvising with tricky trills… and glissandos... - I've been told my voice is very similar to that of the child movie star… singing sensation… Deanna Durbin… whose career in the movies was… alas… short-lived… because of the overwhelming popularity… of Judy Garland… who sang the more popular… modern songs... 

     Alas… little did I know… that that memorable night… the one and only time… that his children… celebrated his birthday… together… because all his other birthdays… took place… during his long business trips abroad… would be the very last time… that Papa and I… would ever sing together… again...!

     Everybody else enjoyed themselves hugely… even Xenia… listening to the two of us… going through our melodic repertoire… and after each song… they clapped their hands with enthusiasm… shouting out…:  "Encore... encore...!" 

     Naturally… Papa and I were more than happy to oblige...  Beaming at each other... the same song titles… Miraculously rolling off our tongues… simultaneously… as the next ones… to sing together... we were perfectly in unison... one in spirit… and one in harmony... joyously indulging our carefree dream of make-believe...

     Those few precious hours… spent sitting around that crudely hewn… wooden table… together… in the dank underground chamber… of a ruined convent… in "Valencia-Al-Cantara" … gustily celebrating our patriarch's 50th  birthday… partaking of delicious… hot bean and vegetable soup… and munching on the nuns' richly textured… home-made bread… accompanied by Xenia's cornucopia of delicious delicacies… were the very last… most treasured moments… of exhilarating closeness… I have ever shared… with Papa Rau... 

     (By some strange coincidence… it so happens that… without design… I am actually writing… about that particular memorable night… here… on the afternoon of the exact date of his birthday… March 12th …!!?
    
     The fact-is-stranger-than-fiction… incredible story… of how he came to be posthumously “Opened…” … and “Awakened…”  into SUBUD… by yours truly…! … despite a 15 year separation… between us…! … and subsequent wonderful Visitations… from the Other Side…! … is fully detailed… in my sequel… to this book… my Spiritual odyssey… “FROM SEVEN HELLS… TO SEVENTH HEAVEN… SUBUD…”) 

     May your soul rest in Blissful Peace… Forever… Papa Rau... in SUBUD Heaven… until we are reunited There… once again… in Glorious Paradise…) 

     The remarkable day's events… finally caught up with us… and finally feeling tired… unable to sing another single note… we were abruptly brought back to reality… just as two of the nuns returned... 

     Noticing with surprise… the remnants of a sumptuous meal… on the table… they were overcome… when Xenia… standing up… reached into her precious hamper… and withdrew a large package of smoked sausage… a large tin of sardines… a large package of cheese… and a big… long bar of Swiss Sprungli Chocolat… offering them to the nuns… in sincere gratitude… for their generous hospitality…

     First refusing… then accepting them… at Xenia’s gestured insistence… they humbly accepted the rare gifts… with murmurered expressions of… “Muchos Gracias…”

     And then the Sister in charge… explained to Papa… that she was terribly sorry… but his children… would have to sleep in the barn… with the animals… since they only had two sleeping quarters… to spare…

     With one of the young nuns… leading Prima and Remo away…  with lit candles… and stopping me from joining them… two other nuns beckoned… with “Por favors…” … that I should accompany them… as they led Papa… Xenia and me… out of the chamber… also holding lit candles…

     As the one in charge… walked beside Papa… she explained that they only had one cubicle… with a double bed in it… and one extra cot… to spare… saying that they were terribly sorry… but that was the best they could do for us... 

     And she sighed deeply… shrugging her much too thin shoulders… helplessly… her soft… doe-like eyes… glistening with regretful tears...
    
     And while Xenia and I walked together… behind her and Papa… and another nun… walked behind us… leading us up a sloping… narrow cement walkway… we made quite an eerie procession… the nuns dressed all in black… and I noticed that there were rough… burlap curtain covered cubicles… running the length of it… on both sides…

     And stopping at one of the cubicles… the first nun drew the curtain back… and again quietly apologized… to Papa… saying that all they had to offer us… for the night… were two beds…:  one double bed for the Senor… and his beautiful nueva Novia (new bride) ... beckoning to me… that I should come forward… and join my husband…! … and a cot for his hermana… (sister)… shyly smiling at Xenia… and pointing to the cubicle… right next door…! 

     So… for the second time that night… I was mistaken for Papa's wife…!  And now (new bride!?) … and by another Spaniard… to boot..!  I had been wondering… how anybody could believe… by any stretch of the imagination… how my gangly… pre-pubescent child's body… could have given birth… to Prima and Remo...! 

     I could accept the Spanish official's arrogant pettiness… on the train… exercising his pompous authority… as an excuse… to throw us off it… without really believing… that I was actually Papa's wife... but now even a nun… and thinking I was Papa’s new bride…?! 

     I can just imagine… how embarrassed… the poor nun must have felt… blushing profusely… when Papa hastily explained to her… that the "hermana" … was actually his “esposa” (wife…) … and that I was his youngest “hija” (daughter) … the baby of the family… and not his novia...! 

     As I watched Papa… talking to the nun… it dawned on me… that perhaps the misunderstanding… both from the Spanish official… and now this nun… had come about… because everybody else… in my family… looked so very different… with their olive dark-complected skin… with darkish hair… and brown… and green eyes… while I was the only individual… of the clan… with golden blonde hair… and a very light… peaches and cream complexion… and the only blue-eyed… in the bunch… and the good Sisters… didn't think further… than that glaring discrepancy... 

     It became all understandable to me though… when the nun shyly explained… that it had been her mistaken belief… that the lady… she believed to be the "hermana” … the senor’s sister… travelling with him… as duenna to his children… especially to protect his older daughter… from the unwelcome attentions… of hot-blooded young Spaniards… in the land… and that the celebration… she had overheard that evening… was for the senor… and his young novia’s happy betrothal…! … commenting how she had noticed… the radiant happiness… of our faces… as we sang so beautifully… together...!

     As things turned out… after Papa had explained that it had been his “cumpleanos” (birthday) … we had been celebrating together… and not his betrothal…

     And after… thanks to Xenia’s prudently packed vanity case… we all managed to brush our teeth… and wash our faces…  in a tiny make-shift cubicle… that had a large bowl… and tall ewer… full of hot water… next to it… sitting precariously… on a rickety table of sorts… he and Xenia ended up… sleeping with all their clothes on… in the narrow double bed… even their outer garments… Xenia in her rich Russian sable fur… and Papa in his expensive… warm… pure wool overcoat… because it was so bitterly cold…    

     And I… also with all my clothes on… including my new New York overcoat… lay most uncomfortably… on a hard… narrow… much too short cot… my legs up to midcalf… dangling over the bottom edge… separated from each other… by a smelly burlap curtain…

     But despite the discomfort… I was so exhausted… that I fell into a deep sleep…  And by the light of day… just a few short hours later… I was amazed… to find myself surprisingly well rested…!  I expected to be aching all over… from the hard thin mattress… but felt quite limber… instead…!

     And looking around me… noticed to my amazement…  that we were precariously perched… high atop a narrow ledge… running along one side of an opening… in the upper part of the underground chamber… so that we actually had been sleeping… under blankets… in open air... with the sky above… for a roof… and with a considerable drop… on either side of us...!

     Now that it was broad daylight… I understood why the nuns had separated Papa and Xenia from me… arranging it… so that we all approached the sleeping quarters… walking in the middle… in single file… with one nun leading… and another one… taking up the rear... 

     Even though I could barely keep my eyes open… I had walked very carefully… following and copying the nun… in front of me… with another nun… close at my heels behind me… and now understood the reason… for their precaution… obviously to see to it… that I did not fall off the narrow ledge… since each narrow sleeping quarter… was accessible only from either end of it… for there was no room to pass through the heavy curtains… from one cell to another...  because of the thick wall of piled up… uneven stones… separating them from each other…

     Prima and Remo had had to fend for themselves… as best they could… in the barn… propped up against some wooden crates… in the pitch black darkness… with only a little area lit up… by the one candle… the nun had left for them…

     And poor Prima… was nearly scared out of her wits when… just as she was about to finally doze off… some gigantic flying creature… had suddenly swooped down… and swept past her… brushing her cheek with its wings… making a horrible screeching noise… probably a night owl... or a bat…

     And she had spent… the rest of the night… quivering in fear… begging Remo… who was wide awake… and wanted to go exploring… to please not leave her all alone… in the scary… smelly barn… dozing off fitfully… startled awake… at the slightest sound... with her fertile imagination… running wild...

CHAPTER  EIGHT

CROSSING DESOLATE SPAIN… ON FOOT… ENDING IN YET ANOTHER… MIRACULOUS DELIVERANCE…!
    
     When the Rau family… all reassembled… back in the communal underground chamber… Papa… Xenia and I… remarked to the beaming nuns… Xenia and I gesturing… on how very refreshed… we felt… after a comfortable night… sleeping in beds… for a welcome change… and were very grateful… for the cups of steaming hot herbal tea… sweetened with wild honey… graciously offered us… by the Sisters... with more shyly murmured… “Por favors…” 

     Papa… all business now… was raring to get off early… and assembling us together… as we cupped our hands… around our hot mugs of tea… sternly announced… that there would be nothing for us to eat that morning… and that… since he did not know… what would await us that day… it was important… that the contents of Xenia’s food hamper… which was now only a third full… be saved for later... 

     Furthermore… the rumor that the Northern part of France… was now occupied… by German troops… was probably true… and who knew what the food situation… would be like… once we crossed the French border...  

     Continuing briskly… he told us… that it would be more advantageous for us… to make the most… of the daylight hours… so he suggested that we make tracks immediately… without wasting any more time… heading east… as the nuns had suggested… in the direction of the Spanish/French border...

     As we took our leave… Papa tried to press upon the good Sisters… some more of our precious food… or at least some remuneration… for their gracious kindness… but they adamantly declined his offer… insisting that we would need every crumb of food… and every penny… for ourselves… and no amount of cajoling… would budge them...

     And so we set off… once more… after thanking our gracious hosts… for their generous hospitality...  And as we said "Adios" … the one nun… who had told us… that her name was Agathea… and who seemed to be the leader… smiled shyly… and called out softly… in perfect English…! … as Papa began walking away…:

     "Senor... I feel to tell you…. that it was the Holy Light of God... Divine Providence... that Led you and your family… to our humble abode… last night... and not only last night… but on a Holy Feast Day… as well...! 

     I feel that you Are Especially Protected… by the Holy Angels… Who Guard your footsteps...  May Almighty God Continue to Bless you… and His Angels Keep you… and your family… safe from all harm... Vaya con Dios..."

     As we heard the dulcet tones… of her sweet voice… we were all compelled… to stop dead in our tracks… and turned our heads… to listen to her earnest words... amazed to hear her speak English… for the very first time… and with such a charming Latin accent…

     When she had finished… she bowed her head… making the sign of the cross… and smiling gently… her gaze lingering… on each one of us… I noticed how her soft… luminous dark eyes… were full of love… and compassion… transfiguring her plain features… making her look quite beautiful...

     I was so drawn to her… and her sincerity… that before I knew it… I had raced back to her… and flung myself into her arms… unable to stop myself...

     She had been startled at first… but then I felt her arms… closing lovingly around my body… enfolding me… and for a brief moment… we stood there together… frozen in time… one in love... one in spirit...

     And I had never felt such inner peace before… from the touch of another human being… as I did at that moment… flowing from the arms and body… of gentle-spirited Sister Agathea... not since dear Sister Theresa… back at St. Maur’s…

     It was quite amazing… how we withdrew from each other… our spirits knowing the exact moment… the embrace was over... and unable to look into her face… one last time… through the sudden blur of tears in my eyes… I turned away from her… and ran from the spot… streaking like the wind… never once looking back...

     And only when I had reached a safe distance… where I knew their faces would be indistinguishable… did I stop… look back and wave… with all my might… thanking my Heavenly Father… in my heart… over and over again… For Having Let our paths cross… so inwardly meaningfully...

     I waited for the others… to catch up with me… and was relieved… that they refrained… from asking embarrassing questions… to which I would have had no words… to explain what was in my heart and soul… anyway...

     And so… as the sun pinkly peeped… over the horizon… lighting up the sky… with a soft glow… we set forth… walking into the light of it… together… in an easterly direction… Papa and Remo… carrying the heavier… of the suitcases… slung around their necks… like before… and Xenia… her precious food hamper… and vanity case… in each hand… and Prima and I… our lighter ones… with Remo… periodically running on ahead… to investigate wha lay ahead…

     But as far… as the eye could see… there was nothing but parched earth… on the vast… uneven terrain… and here and there… clumps of straw-like… textured shrubbery… would jut up… out of the ground... 

     We trudged… and plodded… for hours… the sun… as it climbed the sky… becoming increasingly hotter… and hotter... so that the pleasant coolness… of the early morning hours… soon became a thing of the past...

     Then the time came… when the never-ending vast desolateness… in front of us… began shimmering hazily… and the saliva… dried up in our mouths... our throats became parched… and Xenia allowed us each only a few sips… of the precious water… from her flask… which she had refilled… from the well… at the “convent”… which was tepid… and not ice cold… for the nuns… did not have the luxury… of an icebox…   

     Xenia had two Valencia oranges left… in her precious food hamper… and she very carefully… divided them up… between us… using Remo’s all-purpose Swiss army knife… and my parched throat… welcomed… such sweet juices… as had never filled my mouth… before… to soothe away… my parched throat…

     And I Sent Up a fervent… silent prayer of thanks… to my Heavenly Father… thanking Him… for Guiding Xenia… so Perfectly… for us…

     Not one of the family was allowed… to look inside Xenia’s fiercely guarded treasure chest… beforehand… to see what kind of goodies… it still contained… not even her belo