Solemn hours they were, these hours of farewell, hours that needed few words.

Then once more I slipped out into the night to make my secret way to Beirut.
It was about midnight when I left home, dressed in a soldier's uniform and driving a donkey before me.

I traveled only by night and spent each day in hiding in some cave or narrow valley where I could sleep with some measure of security.

For food I had brought bread, dried figs, and chocolate, and water was always to be found in little springs and pools.
In these clear, warm nights I used to think of David, a fugitive and pursued by his enemies.

How well I could now understand his despairing cry: "How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord?
for ever ?...