The angel swayed high above the condemned; but as he traveled back and forth, to find the one whom he sought, they all rushed after him, so that it looked as though they had been swept on by a whirlwind. At last the angel caught sight of the one he was to take with him. He folded his wings over his back and shot down like a streak of lightning, and the astonished Saint Peter gave a cry of joy when he saw the angel place an arm around his mother and lift her up. “Blessed be thou that bringest my mother to me!” said he. Our Lord laid His hand gently on Saint Peter’s shoulder, as if He would warn him not to abandon himself to joy too soon. But Saint Peter was ready to weep for joy, because his mother was saved. He could not understand that anything further would have the power to part them. And his joy increased when he saw that, quick as the angel had been when he had lifted her up, still several of the lost souls had succeeded in attaching themselves to her who was to be saved, in order that they, too, might be borne to Paradise with her. There must have been a dozen who clung to the old woman, and Saint Peter thought it was a great honor for his mother to help so many poor unfortunate beings out of perdition. Nor did the angel do aught to hinder them. He seemed not at all troubled with his burden, but rose and rose, and moved his wings with no more effort than if he were carrying a little dead birdling to heaven. But then Saint Peter saw that his mother began to free herself from the lost souls that had clung to her. She gripped their hands and loosened their hold, so that one after another tumbled down into hell. Saint Peter could hear how they begged and implored her; but the old woman did not desire that any one but herself should be saved. She freed herself from more and more of them, and let them fall down into misery. And as they fell, all space was filled with their lamentations and curses. Then Saint Peter begged and implored his mother to show some compassion, but she would not listen, and kept right on as before. And Saint Peter saw how the angel flew slower and slower, the lighter his burden became. Such fear took hold of Saint Peter that his legs shook, and he was forced to drop on his knees. Finally, there was only one condemned soul who still clung to St. Peter’s mother. This was a young woman who hung on her neck and begged and cried in her ear that she would let her go along with her to the blessed Paradise. The angel with his burden had already come so far that Saint Peter stretched out his arms to receive his mother. He thought that the angel had to make only two or three wing-strokes more to reach the mountain. Then, all of a sudden, the angel held his wings perfectly still, and his countenance became dark as night.