She does not reply. I get up and wrap my cover round her shoulders.

She supports herself on my arm, she is in pain. And so I take her to her room. I stay with her a little while.

“And you must get well again, Mother, before I come back.”

“Yes, yes, my child.”

“You ought not to send your things to me, Mother. We have plenty to eat out there. You can make much better use of them here.”

How destitute she lies there in her bed, she that loves me more than all the world. As I am about to leave, she says hastily: “I have two pairs of underpants for you. They are all wool. They will keep you warm. You must not forget to put them in your pack.”