“Eternal remembrance be to God’s servants, who of their own accord sought death by flames. Rest, beloved, until the day of Resurrection, and pray for us; we too will drink the cup when our time comes. It has not come yet, we must go on labouring for Christ. You too, my son, have passed through the test of fire,” he continued, turning to Tichon, “you are dead to the world, and have risen in Christ. Endeavour then to live this second life not for yourself, but for God. Put on the armour of light, rise and walk, be a soldier of Christ, a preacher of the Red Death.”
And he added with cheerfulness:—
“We will go to the Ocean, to the border land: there also we will kindle fires, but we will be bold, we will burn innumerable brethren. God will bless our zeal and the whole of Russia will blaze up, and after Russia the whole world.”
Tichon said nothing, he had closed his eyes. The monk thinking he had again fallen asleep, went to the hut to prepare herbs for curing burns. Then Tichon, left to himself, turned away from the still bloody sky, and pressed his face against the ground.
The moist earth eased his pain, and he felt that the Earth had heard his prayer, that she had saved him from the Red Death, and that he was coming forth from her womb anew, like a babe, like a dead man resuscitated. And he flung his arms over her, kissed her as though she were alive, praying:—
Wonderful Queen, Mother of God!
Earth, thou fertile Mother of all.
A few days later, when the monk was preparing to leave, Tichon escaped from him. He now understood that the church of the “Old Believers” was no better than the church of the Orthodox. He had decided to return into the world, there to seek the true faith until he found it.