‘We talked for some time together, but I could not make out anything respecting her relatives. This much only was evident, that her parents had been ordinary farm-people, but apparently well-to-do folk, for the child was well dressed, well brought up, and, moreover, intelligent for her age. ‘She slept in my tent at night, and could not be prevailed upon to leave me, so afraid was she of my rough men. So I came to the conclusion to take the little orphan home with me to my parents in Russia. I explained, therefore, on the next day to my men that for the future I should consider Annita as my child, and threatened with death the man who should do her any harm. ‘As there was now not much probability that the Swedish Finns would soon make a fresh attack on Karelen, I returned to my home on the border of Lake Ladoga, close to Olonet, not far from Finland, where my father owned an estate and several hundreds of serfs. My parents were very much surprised at my bringing home, as a trophy from the battlefield, a little girl, but when they heard further particulars they considered that I had done right, and they received the child kindly. Annita was both a pretty and an amiable child, and she soon became a favourite. ‘At the end of a year she had learnt to speak Russian, only with me she preferred to speak Karelsk, her mother tongue, which I could also speak fairly fluently. It was natural that the child clung to me, and was not quite satisfied unless I was somewhere near. I had rescued her. She looked on me as another father. She could be merry, and happy, and boisterous, like other children, when we went about together, but if I were from home she used to be silent and quiet. Other people might praise her, pet her, or scold her, but she did not seem to care much about it. Only when the praise or blame came from me was she pleased or sorry. She was educated at my home, and in every respect brought up like a daughter of the house. Sometimes I used to teach her myself, and she then was always most diligent. ‘In this way several years passed by. Annita grew up, and by degrees she began to look upon me as an elder brother. I was, moreover, ten years her senior. When she was fifteen years old she was sent to a convent, where she remained for two years. At the same time I was stationed at Moscow, in Ivan Wasilievitsch’s service, and came to know personally both him and his son, the pious Theodore, as well as many other persons who were great and powerful at Ivan’s Court. ‘I remember well that Annita had no wish whatever to go to the convent. I had to start first, and the day before my departure, when it was bedtime, I laid my hand on her little head, and said: ‘“Good-bye, Annita; God bless you!” ‘But she only clung to me, and exclaimed: ‘“Take me with you! Can’t you take me with you?” ‘She was simple enough to think that she could travel to Moscow with me, and that she could there keep house for me.