In the end Mtzkhet was bursting with joy, for a report spread from one quarter to another that Aderbadaganne had been successfully taken by storm. Triumphant receptions were now universally prepared for the great victor, and young and old rushed into the street with colored flags or flower branches in their hands. Poullkheria in her newest attire, and by her very side Martin, stood on the steps of the church of Stephen-Tsminda (i.e., of Saint Stephen).
When the powerful procession came up to them, the Tsarevitch got off his horse and went into the empty temple. Martin, unnoticed, followed on after him and clearly beheld how he went straight to the finished image of the most Holy Virgin and having fallen on his knees was fervently praying. When, however, the prayer being over, the Tsarevitch rose, Martin ran up to him and quickly whispered in his ear:
“This great day the Tsar, my master, will not refuse thee anything.”
But the Tsarevitch, persuaded that he alone was in the church, was evidently and most visibly struck and moved by this unexpected witness of his all hearty and sincere prayer. He did not recognize Martin, did not remember even his words, but hastened with all his might to go out of the church, while Martin thought that his own affairs were taking an unusually pleasant turn and greatly rejoiced. A few days went by, on the large square of the city a glashatai (kind of herald) made his appearance with a number of trumpeters, and having called together the people, they formally announced to them the coming marriage of the Tsarevitch-successor Mirdat to Sagdoukta, the daughter of the Persian satrappe (probably district governor) Barzabode.
A slight noise was heard, and a moment thereafter a cry which was sharp enough to tear one’s soul to pieces and which attracted general attention. On the ground lay Poullkheria, not showing any signs of life. A thin, pale colored rivulet of young boiling blood was slowly coming out of her mouth. Kneeling before her was Martin, who, indeed, was giving himself every possible trouble to stop the abundant flow of blood. Somebody out of the crowd was desirous of running to help her, but he looked back with a really terrified glance, and like a regular madman, having seized her in his vigorous arms, rushed off with her to Stephen Tsminda. Here he placed her at the foot of that wonderful picture for the execution of which she had served as a model and completely lost his senses. And, nay!—he actually saw how the cupola moved and opened itself, and how two angels gradually approached Poullkheria. In their hands there was just as grand a kind of a white transparent, indescribably magnificent garment as the one which dazzled their eyes.
Instantly they took off the costly robe and clothed her in the attire which they had brought along. Poullkheria came back to life and looked around with the greatest astonishment as the rays of the sun, one after another, reflected upon the opening of the cupola, and approaching slowly, the angels came down, who quickly and intelligently drew out two wings from them, quite as beaming with light as their own, and made them grow on to Poullkheria, and having manœuvred with them several times, the new angel without the least trouble raised herself from the earth and joyfully did the angels of the Almighty God sing a marvellously, nay extraordinarily, sweet greeting song to their dear new companion in arms, inviting her to fly off with them to the Throne of God.
The new angel departed from the house of worship with a last, tender parting glance and having beheld her father, she began to implore the angels to also take him with them into the World of Life Eternal. The angelic song now stopped, their faces were darkened with sorrow, and painfully they announced that willingly they would have prepared for him at first a more desirable spot in the all glorious and all wonderful domains of Heaven, but that he threw away his splendid chance by wicked and useless vanity. The tears ran down in floods from the eyes of the former Poullkheria, and these tears of hers, as clean and fresh as the morning dew, dropped down unto the face of him who had died and brought him again to life and this time to a happier one.
Martin jumped up, being fully aware of and perfectly ready to acknowledge his sinfulness. Abundant tears of remorse came out of his eyes and two more angels appeared on earth.
They gathered these tears and washed out with them the wicked, sinful soul of Martin and the dark, dark spots of vanity on this most precious of diamonds grew quite white. When, however, the diamond again acquired its former harmless and utterly immaculate look, they radiantly bore him up to the throne of God, where he is shining and enlightens with a marvellous talent and adroitness those artists who are working for the glory of God, but Poullkheria guards their shining, clean souls from any sinful or irreligious infection.