'In sleepless nights I felt her hand touching my head, her kiss and the hot tears with which she took her last leave of me, conscious perhaps that our separation would be eternal. I do not know even now whether the longing for my mother or for my native land was the stronger. But it was a hard pilgrimage this time. I could not walk fast because of the wounds on my feet which kept breaking open. I often had to hide for days in the woods like a wild animal.
'Vultures and crows[1]—ill omens of the end—circled over my head, scenting their prey. Worn out with hunger I broke down from time to time, and…fool that I was, I always prayed. I implored the Almighty God, the merciful God, the just God, the God of the poor, the God of the forsaken:
[Footnote 1: Siberian fugitives look upon them with superstition.]
'"Help me, have mercy on me! Gracious Father! send me death, I ask for no other mercy than death! I will give it to myself, but only there…."
'Two years passed before I reached the province of Perm. I had never before got so far. My heart began to beat joyously, in my head there was only one thought: "I shall see my beloved native soil, and I shall die at my beloved mother's grave." When I left the Ural behind me I definitely believed in my salvation, I threw myself down upon the ground, and for a long, long time I lay there, sobbing and thanking God for His grace and His mercy. But He, the Merciful, was only preparing His last blow, and that same day…. Then they took me as far as Yakutsk!…
'Why did I live on so long in this misery?
'Why did I wait here for such an end as this?
'Because I wanted to see what God intended to do to me. 'Now see what He has made of a human being who trusted Him like a child, who has never known what happiness in this world meant, nor demanded it, who has never received love from anyone but his mother and, although maimed and crippled, has worked hard until the end, never stretched out his hands for alms, never stolen or coveted his neighbours' possessions, who has ever given away the half of what he had… see what He has made of me!…
'That is why I hate Him, no longer trust in Him….I don't believe in His Saints or His Judgment or His Justice; hear me, brothers, I call you to witness in the hour of my death, so that you should know it and can testify to it before Him when you die.'
He raised himself with an effort, stretched out his hands towards the sun and called with a loud voice: