Following the rule of recorded divine omens In the maxim Saint Augustine "tolle et lege" (take a book and read what is the same as brother take your stretcher and walk) I have removed the day of the Dormition from the cellar of my books, I have a great library. Fruit of my visits to the Rastro and Moyano, the most exquisite must. And punctual about how times are running It is a novel by Henri Troyat "The Muscovite" referring to the great connection between the French émigrés of the Robespierre revolution and the defeat of the Napoleonic Grande Armeé. I recommend it to those who suffer from the stigma of Russophobia, conventionalism, the manipulation of information against that great country of the tsars. Contradictory. Tender and violent. Resigned and fierce dejected that suddenly resurfaces. This has a diabolical nature for me: Zelenski is an Iscariot under the orders of the Sanhedrin headed by that Biden with Dracula's fangs. It is the hour of the Beast. The wind from Sacamantecas is blowing through the roads of Europe. Russia is there crucified on Golgotha, trying to understand her enemies, possessed of an incoercible obstinacy. Something difficult to understand. Father, forgive them because they dont know what they are doing. After the ominous afternoon of Good Friday will come the joyous morning of Glory Saturday. Death and resurrection. When it seems that it is bent and surrounded by the enemy, Russia resurrects. It is the hour of the Beast. I already said it in a book entitled 666. Prolegomena of the antichrist? I do not believe too much in the Book of Revelation, a dark book that has as a reference the Jewish mentality of predominance of the elect after a tremendous time. The theme of Troyat's novel is to tell how and why the Napoleonic empire succumbed in the steppe. The protagonist of it is Armando, the son of a marquis, a valid member of Louis XVI who, fleeing from the guillotine, travels to Petersburg. The protagonist has two souls, two consciences, France and Russia, two loves Natalia Ivanovna and Paulina. The one is platonic, the Russian, unrequited because his lover was an undine, a russalka floating on the waters of the Neva. The other a passion according to the flesh that has its zenith and its nadir because Paulina is a light-headed actress who ends up abandoned to Armand de Croue who dies in the steppe when Napoleonic troops try to find the Estonian border. This is the scaffolding, the structure of a “roman fleuve” (river novel) that flows with the parsimony and magnificence of the waters of the Volga or the Dnieper. A paragraph in chapter XIII shocks me and it is the similarity observed by a cavalry non-commissioned officer, a camper, who trots or walks with his squadron through the requisitioned villages to alleviate the hunger of the Muscovites. Ragged servants of the gleba leave the isbas mujiks. A barin appears with a smaller arm, a hero from other homeland wars. He does not understand how those sanculotes refuse to donate food to the invader and respect the one-armed veteran as a god. They worship him like a god ─ U menia ni esti karowa u menia ni esti maleko we don't have cows we don't have milk. The invalid was the representative of the tsar, of divinity on earth. Moscow had been burned by the Russians themselves. The scene in which the protagonist's father refuses to receive extreme rites from a priest is moving, preferring to receive oil paintings from a Catholic priest, Mr. Crué. In line with this a mysterious observation. Orthodox believers described the Vatican as an evil sect. Is this not happening today in the Ukraine with the confiscation initiated by the iniquitous Zelensky, imprisoning or martyring the laura monks of Kiev who refuse to accept the schismatic rites that oppose the patriarchate of Moscow? The Ukrainian war shows how terrible religious wars are. It is a war between Jews and Christians. Putin who does not accept the new Zionist North American order stands up as a defender of the Faith: A Catholic by confession, Armand attended the Orthodox Church on Sundays and holydays more willingly, he preferred the solemn and barbaric liturgy of this religion that was not his own to the formal liturgy of the religion in which he had been born. He had ended up knowing his prayers better in Slavonic than in Latin. Furthermore, there was such a fervor of multitudes of worshipers before the iconostasis, the perfume of the incense acting pleasantly on his brain! He expresses a dichotomy. The protagonist's soul is split into two halves. He loves Russia but is unable to forget his Gallic origins. Politics passes and nations persevere. Russia, like France, are eternal. There are beings who, born in a land, like trees, shade the neighbor's fence. The double homeland in his heart overlaps. He hates Napoleon in his irreligiousness. During the invasion of the Grande Armée the churches in Spain as in Moscow are transformed into

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