I saw from my reflection in a saucepan that I looked moderately respectable in spite of my night in the woods.
I told her the story of how I was walking from Schwandorf to see my mother at an imaginary place called judenfeld, banking on the ignorance of villagers about any place five miles from their homes.

I said my luggage had gone astray, and I hadn't time to wait for it, since my leave was short.

The old lady was sympathetic and unsuspecting.

She sold me a pound of chocolate, a box of biscuits, the better part of a ham, two tins of sardines and a rucksack to carry them.

I also bought some soap, a comb and a cheap razor, and a small Tourists' Guide, published by a Leipzig firm.