I walked back to Zbarazh. I was eleven years old at the time. Helena Zaleska, a Polish Catholic farmwoman found me and asked if I wanted to be her child. She was childless and wanted me for her own. She hid me, gave me the name Marishka and taught me how to behave in church. She and her brother had good hearts. They were very religious and for the record, I say that they were righteous gentiles. They were good to me. They gave me love. I worked awfully hard, but so did they. I had fresh air and whatever food they had.