One night in June, not far from the settlement, on a steep rock overhanging the river, a fire was burning. The flames lit up the lower branches of a pine to whose trunk an old Raskolnik’s brass icon was nailed. Two persons were sitting near the fire; the young girl-novice Sophia, and the lay brother Tichon. Sophia had been in the wood searching for a young calf which had strayed; Tichon was returning from a distant hermitage, whither Cornelius had sent him with a letter. They had met by chance at the crossing of the two paths, late at night, when the gates of the monastery were closed; and they decided to await the dawn together near the fire. Sophia watching the flames was singing in a low voice:—
Christ Himself, the blessed King of Heaven,
Speaks to us His children, thus:
“Let not yourselves be conquered
By the seven-headed snake, the Evil One.
Rather flee and hide in caves and mountains,
Where build up large piles of faggots—
Pour burning sulphur over them—
And burn thereon your earthly bodies
For your glorious faith in Me!