The legend has preserved this incident relating to the monk who had escaped from the massacre, and who had concealed himself on an island in the Petschenga River. But, according to the legend, it was not a mortal woman who came and nursed him, but an angel from heaven, who came down each night to him, and placed her hand on the monk’s eyes, until he was cured and regained his sight. When Annita returned, Ambrose’s wounds were dressed, while questions and answers were exchanged between them. As they spoke in Karelen Unnas was also able to follow them, and in that way heard much about his benefactor’s earlier life, of which he had previously known very little. ‘Your mother sends you her greeting,’ said Annita; ‘she will receive us with open arms, and give us her blessing when we return.’ ‘And my father?’ said Ambrose. ‘Your father?’ ‘Yes; will he give us his blessing, too, and forgive us?’ ‘Then you don’t know what has happened? You don’t know that your father is no more? Your father is dead.’ ‘May God have pity on his soul!’ ‘You have not heard that your father met with an accident?’ ‘No. I know nothing about things that have occurred at home since I left.’ ‘While driving with three horses which he had bought, and which he would drive himself over to one of his neighbours, the horses shied, and reared, and upset the carriage, and he injured his head so that he died the day following.’ ‘Had you returned home when it happened?’ ‘No; your mother told me of it. It is now six months since it happened. His last words, your mother says, were “Call Theodore back, and Annita; she is in a convent at——” More he could not manage to utter. I believe that he intended to forgive us when he saw death approaching.’ ‘Were you hidden in a convent?’ ‘Yes, in a little nunnery in the neighbourhood of Novgorod.’ ‘What is it called, and who took you there?’ ‘That I don’t even now know; they were strangers whom I have never seen either before or since.’ ‘How did it happen?’ ‘One winter evening I had been sent across to Theodora Petrovna, and was to drive back again with Anthony Kudst, who came to fetch me. We were set upon by three men; I was lifted out of the sledge and placed in theirs, and was driven away, night and day, till we reached the convent, where I was confined more strictly than any of the nuns, and was kept under guard, and never allowed to speak to a stranger.’ ‘And Anthony, what became of him?’ ‘Ah! what became of him nobody knows; most probably your father gave him money, and sent him back to his own country.’ ‘I hunted for you for more than two years, Annita, far and near, as well as in all the convents.’