Earth and sky were lit up by the red glow, as though the last fire which was to consume the world were already blazing.
Tichon recovered consciousness in the wood, on the fresh dewy grass.
He learnt afterwards that at the last moment, when he had swooned, Cornelius and Kirucha had taken him up in their arms and rushed into the sanctuary. Under the altar was a trap-door, which led into a secret chamber and thence, following a subterranean passage, they reached the wood, a thicket where the persecutors could not find them.
Almost all the preachers of “Self-burning” acted in this way: they let the others perish, but they and their closest disciples ran away in order to continue their teaching.
Tichon had taken a long time to recover. The monk and Kirucha sprinkled him repeatedly with water; they thought he would die, though his burns were not severe.
At last he opened his eyes and asked:—
“Where is Sophia?”
The monk looked at him with his lucid, kindly eyes.
“Do not fret, my child, do not sorrow for your bride. Her soul is in heaven, together with the holy martyrs.”
And lifting his eyes to heaven he crossed himself and said with joyful accents:—