Khortiza, December 17, 1919

A thing scarcely believable becomes true: the Anarchists are preparing to leave. It awakens us from our state of petrifaction; it is like a ray of light in dark night.

But then? Well, then there remains with us suffering, sorrow, death, emptiness. What they took away nobody can bring back again.

I do not feel well. Yesterday I had a temperature of 99.5 degrees. What will happen when I, too, shall become unable to help? Marguerite cannot keep up very much longer, either. She looks suspiciously careworn. She is ill, I do not doubt it. She simply forces herself to remain on her legs and does not want to admit the truth. And I must not fail if she is able to carry on. I will remain on duty until I fall. That I vow.—

Oh, these scoundrels! Today there entered three mysterious fellows in high shaggy fur caps who arranged a trial with me. They charged me with conspiring against them, with planning an organized attack. They have seen that men are coming to me, and that I myself from time to time go out to see my friends. They demand that I deliver my machine guns. I make them understand that I know well all their accusations are made just as an excuse for the arbitrary action they are planning. We know too well already the methods of these “heroes” who are so wonderfully brave in facing unprotected men.

I was not alarmed at the thought of menacing death but I was afraid of preceding tortures. Just a few days ago one of Marguerite’s brothers was beaten with lead knouts so terribly that he broke down and remained lying in his own blood, unconscious.

I wanted to avoid a similar experience. I called upon the Anarchists quartered with us to bear witness. They did not say anything to my disadvantage.

“Well then,” I said, closing the session, “there is nothing to discuss.” I went out without giving them any further notice.

What they may have talked among themselves I do not know. I noticed, however, that the three devils left the house.

Our sick people became very excited at the scene created by those rough fellows. Their condition of illness grew worse. “They” kill many a man by such unseen weapons. How will they ever account for their deeds? They do not know what they are responsible for.