“No. It was worth it if even one escaped, because we all would have died—every one of us. I was a lucky one. A good farmer found me. He took me in and hid me until the war was over. I owe my life to him.”

I suddenly understood. “That’s why you stopped to help me.”

“Yes, I made a promise to God that I would never turn away from someone in need.”

“What did you do when the war was over?”

“I had much hate. I was asked to testify at the war criminal trials. I got to look some of the guards in the faces and point at them and condemn them. I do not regret this. Mercy should not rob justice.

“But my soul became dark. I trusted no one. I hated everyone. Even the Polish. Until I met Ania.” His expression softened as he spoke her name. “My dear Ania. She had suffered too. Not in Sobibor, but she saw death too. Her own father and mother were killed in front of her. But she was not like me. She was so beautiful. Not just her face, which I tell you was beautiful, but in her eyes. Somehow she could still smile and laugh.”

When he said this he smiled for the first time since he’d started his story. “Oh, my dear Ania. I could not keep myself from her. But she would not have me. Finally I said, ‘Why, Ania? Why will you not have me?’

“She said, ‘Because you are like them.’ I got very angry. I said, ‘I am not like them.’ She said, ‘Their hate for us—your hate for them, there is no difference. You have such hate in your heart, you might as well have died in Sobibor.’

“She was right. I was just like them. She showed me that the one thing they could not take from me was my choice. So I made a choice to be free of them. To be free of my past, my horrible, horrible past.” He nodded. “That’s when she married me. That’s when I became a free man, even more than when I ran from the camp. In many ways it was the same.”

“What happened to Ania?”

“My Ania died nine years ago. After she died I came to America to be with my son. He now lives in California.”

I looked down for a long time, then said, “I’m sorry. My problems are small by comparison.”

He reached over and put his hand on mine. “No. Your problems are not small. They are horrible too. All the more reason you must let them go.” Then he looked me in the eyes and said something that changed me forever. “What would your beloved have you do?”

My eyes welled up with tears. When I could speak I said, “She would tell me to be free.”