"Now only Natasha is left unenlightened, but we will get to her.

But the Lord saved me – I left the institute.

I spent another year in secondary school, prompting the guys to take a long course of sciences and not yet forgotten. Only the noble old physicist exempted me from attending his lessons, and I had to sit out the rest. But all summer long I diligently painted and painted. And in 1946 I entered the Stroganov Art Institute, where I worked for the first semester in the library.

In the Stroganov School, I found myself in a completely different type of environment. There were also girls, but mostly disabled war veterans: without a leg, without an eye, with one arm, etc. Teachers treated them with respect, as heroes. I still kept to myself, did not get close to anyone. For some reason, everyone was shy of me, shunned me. Sometimes, I would enter the studio before classes, where everyone was seated for work, go up to a group of students for a chair - they would immediately fall silent, look at each other meaningfully: "Girl! Be careful, guys." I hurry away so as not to disturb their conversation. During the working day, there is no time to talk, during the break you only have time to fold the inventory and move to another classroom. And I did not go to the evenings held in honor of the "celebrations". Once on New Year's Eve I was at the institute: music was blaring, guests appeared - the military, girls in the hall were dancing, everything around was hung with paper lanterns and other decorations, somewhere they were treating... "How good, how fun!" - my friends exulted, running past me. And I stood against the wall, as if I were a stranger, I also wanted to dance, but I did not know how, and no one invited me. Some kind of melancholy filled my heart, and it was embarrassing to pray here, because it was the Nativity Lent, the war, and I had come to have fun. The voice of conscience prevailed - I put on my coat and left. Oh, how beautiful this frosty starry dark night seemed to me! Empty, quiet streets, and I was alone. But God is with me, and it is so gratifying to pray to him. What happiness!

Father Isaiah's Prophecy

When I was eighteen years old, that is, in 1944, the Lord vouchsafed me once again to receive a blessing from Father Isaiah. The Eggert girls were still friends with us. Once they appeared in our wonderful crepe de chine blouses. We have never seen such elegant embroidery, such delicate finishing. My mother expressed a desire for me to get the same blouse. "Please," was the answer, "let Natasha go to our dressmakers herself, choose her color and style. Their cooperative is near Moscow, we will give you the address and warn the tailors about your arrival."

It was a secret spiritual community of monastic sisters united around the elder – Father Isaiah. I was then a student at the Polygraphic Institute. I was conscientious about classes, I did not want to miss them. I chose a day off for the trip - January 1, no one in 1944 celebrated the New Year. In the evening, the curfew began. Some patrols controlled the dark, empty streets, the windows of the houses were carefully draped, even a crack was not allowed. I left the house very early, the city was still asleep. Darkness, frost, deep fresh snow, not yet trampled by anyone. It's okay, the felt boots are high, you won't freeze to walk quickly. Without meeting a soul, I made my way to the station, got on the train, and went alone in the car. I count the stops. I went out, it was already dawn. I was alone again, not a soul around. But I remember the plan of the road, counting the glades, the houses. And the rooms on the fences are all covered with snow. I quickly found the right dacha, saw that the door was already opening and I was welcomed.

Wow, how nice it is to enter the cozy warmth from the cold! There is amazing order and cleanliness all around: knitted rugs, curtains, flowers on the windowsills, icons, lamps and the crackle of wood burning in Dutch stoves. Young friendly "sisters" are all in long dresses, in handkerchiefs. Everyone caresses me, takes measurements from me, offers embroideries, styles and various delicate colors of crepe de chine. I choose the color of young lettuce, that is, light green.

Then there was a service, singing, reading... Everything flashed by as if in a dream. We sat down to a meal, they treated me diligently... I was seated next to Father Isaiah, who was very attentive to me, asking me about many things. But what did I know? She never listened to the radio, did not read newspapers, had no acquaintances. In the morning, three kilometers on foot to the institute, in the evening - back. The church, the store, books and sound sleep - so days flew by. But now I was left alone with the priest. He remembers my parents, asks about my brothers.

"Kolya is killed," I say.

"No, he's alive!" I hear the answer.

I know that all pure, holy souls are alive with the Lord, that our Kolenka is among them. I do not argue.

"Do you have any young people among your friends?"