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Maxim Berkut marched amidst the band of Tukholian youths sent to execute the folk-court’s orders. He had grown up with a feeling of deep attachment for his community and an inviolable respect for its laws. Though it was against the dictates of his innermost heart and he would have preferred not to have been chosen by the community to drive from its lands the people’s enemy, Tuhar Wolf, still he could not refuse to obey. His heart cried out in revolt against the very thought of meeting with Peace-Renown and her father as enemies, that he might have to defend himself against the boyar’s guards and perhaps even against the boyar himself, shedding human blood in the presence of the one for whom he was ready to lay down his life. True, he was firmly resolved to accomplish his purpose as inoffensively as possible without bringing about bloodshed, but who could guarantee him that the boyar, realizing he was in the wrong, would not start trouble first? This was more likely to happen than not.

“But no,” thought Maxim, “if he wants my blood, I will not defend myself. I will expose myself willingly, let him kill me! Life he will not permit me, then let him give me death! Farewell, my Tukhlia! Farewell, dear father! Farewell, my brothers and friends, you will never see Maxim again! Hearing of my death, you will grieve and say: ‘He died for the good of his people!’ But you will never guess that I wanted and purposely sought death!”

Thus thought Maxim advancing toward the group of