In Budapest Christine Granville came into contact with a Pole whom she had met a couple of times before, named Andrzej Kowerski. Their social paths had naturally crossed, for Kowerski too belonged to the szlachta, the name given to the Polish land-owning upper class, whose members exhibited as their most determining characteristics complete social ease, an excellent command of French and an apparently inexhaustible supply of people whom they referred to as their cousins.

When she arrived in Budapest Christine's marriage had already effectively foundered. She and Kowerski became lovers, so beginning a relationship which never turned into marriage but which survived, essentially unimpaired, until death, even though both were to be driven from time to time to other people and indeed to different continents.

We entered by the side door and were greeted by a guard of honour formed by the Swiss Guards. Then we went

along enormous corridors to an antechamber filled with wonderful paintings. Here a Church dignitary, a Cardinal I believe, was waiting for us. He showed us round, and guided us into the room in which the Pope was sitting. It was a tiny room with white Louis XVI chairs. His Holiness sat on a plain chair. We walked in, kissed his ring and the conversation began. This was between His Holiness, the Polish Ambassador and myself, as the poor Colonel was unable to participate. I was very disappointed that the Pope would not follow our suggestion that he should say something about the cruelties of the Nazis against the Jews and the Poles.

I was very bitter and forgetting all protocol said, "But, Your Holiness, surely the Catholic Church cannot just sit and watch these horrible atrocities being carried out-people being killed, taken away and gassed, without saying something?" His Holiness said, "Well, my son, you must understand that the Catholic Church must look after the whole world, and not one country only."