Joy filled her—Forgotten lay the haunting fear of other days—the gloom cast by Prison walls—which had seemed ever to draw in upon her.
To live—to let live—to send up Hymns of joy.
It was on the steps of Saint Isaac's Cathedral.
Dared she advance—dared she go in to the splendor of the Altars—to pray—
And ever the Fifth Symphony like a guiding spirit seemed to whisper at her ear—
Triumphant over Defeat
Light out of gloom—
Dasha filled her days with joy. The joy of being alive, of being freed from herself—
She saw the sky and heard the laughter of children in the street—