The Marian Martyrs of Rosica

129 Memoir tle more energetically, even trying to go in front of me. I entered the nearest house and asked if there was a Catholic liv- ing in the village. Yes, there was, but he wasn’t there now. They advised me to go to the soltis (village headman). He had a larg- er house. It would be more convenient for a seminarian and there would be space for the horse. So that is where I went. The host was Orthodox, but he received me kindly. We took care of the horse, and then he led me into the house. We entered the room. It was very clean, the table covered with a cloth. There was an icon in a corner. I told him what had happened to me in the forest and where I had left my sledge. The good man calmed me down. At night nobody will take the sledge, he assured me, and first thing in the morning we would ride out to it. I was given dinner and then he showed me a place to sleep. I would sleep in a room with a young teacher. It was diffi- cult for us to have an extended conversation as he only spoke Russian and I only spoke Polish. But this young man was searching for the truth. His young, restless soul was looking for God, no matter that according to the Soviet constitution, there is “no God.” The people he was meeting, people from theWest, were believers. His mother used to believe, too. She prayed. There was an icon at home. He wanted to find out more. Among the weeds so generously sown at the University in Minsk, tiny plants of faith were sprouting. It was awakening in him. He wanted to arrive at eternal truth. Did he find it? Or, looking at the newmasters, their pride, hatred, and murders, did he leave the question unresolved? Very early in the morning, my host hitched the horse to his sledge, took an ax, and off we went. My sledge was not far away, with its useless shaft. A few blows on a young fir with his ax, and there was a new one. We attached the sledge and went back. Can one remain indifferent to such kindness from a stranger. I wanted to show my gratitude, but with what? I myself was as poor as a church mouse. I reached Leonpol without further obstacles. The Rev. Pastor was upset.