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| Source: Michael Sazonov |
"I understand, doctor," replied Lady Ershebet serenely. "thank you for your efforts in caring for me. You can let me go now, I am ready." Turning to her grieving family, she consoled them. "I'm sorry for making you all suffer so much. I will be missing you dearly!"
"I have never seen anyone face death like this," recounted Martynov of Archangel some time later.
Lady Ershebet Yasin drew up a letter to entrust her possessions to her brother, Iskander. Then she took her walking stick, held a rag between her teeth, and headed for the hills on foot, for she intended to help ministering to the impoverished multitudes there during the eleven remaining months granted to her. The monastery between the lake and the Griadas welcomed her upon her arrival. There they named her Sister Lisbeta, after her name in the old language.
Five years later, Sister Lisbeta passed away in the Griadine House at forty years of age. Six thousand people from near and far attended her funeral mass, including those of her own family. Far from being a sombre affair, the wake was a time of festivities and joyousness, graced by musicians and storytellers as well as animated testimonies from the people whose lives were touched by the Lady in her last years.
"Now as for you, my daughter," said Iskander Yasin to his young daughter, Irannika. "You shall be the satrapess of Raikkosè."
But the girl was not listening. At this moment, the first flock of geese of May had completed their sojourn over the Siberian desert and were now arriving at the lake. There they began filling the air with their cackles, joining their voices with the ruckus on the ground. Squealing with delight, Irannika hopped off her father's lap and ran towards the fields to greet the visitors from the South.
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