“They are still very small,” he answered. “Your record is against you. You do not deny being a friend of Kornilov. Your strict discipline in the Battalion and your fighting the Germans at a time when the whole front was fraternizing, are known here. Besides, the death penalty has become so customary here that it would be very unusual for one to escape it. Only the other day a physician and his wife, on their way to Kislovodsk to the springs, somehow arrived in Zverevo. They were arrested, attached to a party about to be shot, and executed without any investigation. Afterwards papers from their local Soviet were found in their clothes, certifying that they were actually ill, the physician suffering from a cancer, and requesting that they should be allowed to proceed to Kislovodsk.” Petrukhin kissed my hand, and left, warning me: “Wait here till I return. Nobody will harm you in my absence.” He locked the door behind him. I took out the little bottle of holy water, given to me by my youngest sister, Nadia, and drank it. On my knees before the little icon, I prayed long and devoutly to God, Jesus, and the Holy Mother. My ears caught a noise outside the car: it came from several menacing soldiers who wanted to get in and kill me on the spot. I prayed with greater fervour than before, pleading for my life in the name of my mother, my father and my little sister. My heart was heavy with sorrow and despair. As I was hugging the little icon, tears streaming from my eyes, I suddenly heard a voice, a very tender voice, say to me: “Your life will be saved.” I was alone in the compartment. I realize that it is a daring statement to make. I do not seek to make any one believe it. It may be accepted or not. But I am satisfied that I did hear the voice of a divine messenger. It was soothing, elevating. Suddenly I felt happy and calm. I thanked the Almighty for His boundless grace and vowed to have a public prayer offered at the Moscow Cathedral of Christ the Saviour at the first opportunity, in commemoration of His miraculous message to me. Then I fell asleep, and rested calmly till the arrival of Petrukhin. His face was wreathed in smiles, he clasped my hand joyfully, saying: “Thank God! Thank God! You are at least saved from the mob. Sablin has ordered you to be sent to Moscow. The necessary papers are being prepared now.” At this point Peter came in, followed by some members of the investigation committee. All were happy. It was a wonderful moment. How an act of humanity transforms men’s countenances! Peter and his comrades congratulated me, and I was too overcome to express all the gratefulness that I felt toward these men. Petrukhin then narrated how he had dealt with the infuriated soldiers, who had clamoured for my life. He told them that I was being led away to Moscow in the hope that I would there deliver up several counter-revolutionary Generals, associated with Kornilov. “Will she be shot afterwards?” they inquired.