When they rounded the final comer before approaching the Baron's 'estate and saw the great iron gates that led.to the castle, Abel laughed aloud in excitement as he brought the car to a halt.

'It's all just as I remember it. Nothing's changed. Come on, let's start by visiting the cottage where I spent the first five years of my life - I don't expect anyone is living there now - and then we'll go and see my castle.'

Flor.entyna followed her father as he marched confidently down a small track into the forest of moss - covered birches and oaks, which was not going to change in a hundred years. After they had walked for about twenty minutes, the two of them came out into a small clearing, and there in front of them was the trapper's cottage. Abel stood and stared. He had forgotten how tiny his first home was: could nine people really have lived there? The thatched roof was now in disrepair, and the building left the impression of being uninhabited with its eroded stone and broken windows. The once tidy vegetable garden was indistinguishable in the matted undergrowth.

Had the cottage been deserted? Florentyna took her father by the arm and led him slowly to the front door. Abel stood there, motionless, so Florentyna knocked gently. They Waited - in silence. Florentyna knocked again, this time a little more loudly, and they heard someone moving within.

'All right, all right,' said a querulous voice in Polish, and a few moments later, the door inched open. They were being studied by an old woman, bent and thin, dressed entirely in black. Wisps of untidy snow - white hair escaped from her handerchief and her grey eyes looked vacantly at the visitors.

'It's not possible,' said Abel softly in English.

'What do you want?' asked the old woman suspiciously. She had no teeth and the line of her nose, mouth and chin formed a perfect concave are - Abel answered in Polish, 'May we come in and talk to YOU F Her eyes looked from one to the other fearfully. ~Old Helena hasn't done anything wrong,' she said in a whine.

'I know,' said Abel gently. 'I have brought good news for YOU. $ With some reluctance, she allowed them to enter the bare, cold room but she didn't offer them a seat. The room hadn't changed: two chairs, one table and the memory that until he had left the cottage, he hadn't known what a carpet was. Flor - entyna shuddered.

'I can't get the fire going,' wheezed the old woman, prodding the grate with her stick. The faintly glowing log refused to rekindle, and she scrabbled ineffectually in her pocket. 'I need paper.' She looked at Abel, showing a spark of interest for the first time. 'Do you have any paper?'

Abel looked at her steadily. 'Don't you remember me?' he said.

'No, I don't know you.'

'You do, Helena. My name is... Wladek.'

'You knew my little Wladek?'

'I am Wladek.'

'Oh, no,' she said with sad and distant finality. 'He was too good for me, the mark of God was upon him. The Baron took him away to be an angel, yes, he took away Matka's littlest one . . .'

Her old voice cra&ed and died away. She sat down, but the ancient, lined hands were busy in her lap.

'I have returned,' said Abel, more insistently, but the old woman paid him no attention, and her old voice quavered on as though she were quite alone in the room.

'They killed my husband, my jasio, and all my lovely children were taken to the camps, except little Sophia. I hid her, and they went away.' Her voice was even and resigned.

What happened to little Sophia?' asked Abel.

'The Russians took her away in the other war,' she said dully.

Abel shuddered.

The old woman roused herself from her memories. 'What do you want? Why are you asking me these questionsP she demanded.

'I wanted you to meet my daughter, Florentyna.'

'I had a daughter called Florentyna once, but now there's only me.'

'But I began Abel, starting to unbutton his shirt.

Florentyna stopped him. 'We know,' she said, smiling at the old lady.

'How can you possibly know? It was all so long before you were even born.'

'They told us in the village,' said Florentyna.

'Have you any paper with you?' the old lady asked, 'I need paper for the fire.'

Abel looked at Florentyna helplessly. 'No,' he replied, 'I'm sorry, we didn't bring any with us.'

'What do you want?' reiterated the old woman, once again hostile.

'Nothing,' said AbeL now resigned to the fact that she would not remember him. 'We just wanted to say hello.' He took out his wallet, removed all the new zloty notes he had acquired at the border and handed them over to her.