Page:Zakhar Berkut(1944).djvu/163

 soul and his great love for freedom, did not anger the boyar but pleased him very much. He felt as if an iceberg had enclosed his heart and was now melting away. Upon the charred remains of free Tukhlia, he began to understand that the Tukholians had acted both wisely and equitably and his heart though blinded by greed for power, was not entirely deaf to the voice of his conscience which recognized their rights. The boyar had ruminated upon all this today and already looked with a different attitude upon the prone, half-dead, miserable form of Maxim crouching upon the ground within his tent.

He approached him, took him by the hand intending to raise him up to a sitting position on a bench.

“Maxim!” he said kindly. “What has happened to you?”

“Let me alone!” Maxim groaned, “And let me die in peace!”

“Maxim! Boy! Why should you think of death? I’m trying to find a way of making you free and here you talk of death! Get up and sit here on the bench. Pull yourself together, I have something to discuss with you.”

Though Maxim only half understood and only half-believed the words and sudden compassion of the boyar still his primitive needs, his weakness, hunger and fatigue were too strongly demanding for him to be able to refuse the boyar’s hospitality.

A mug of fiery wine refreshed him immediately, resurrecting his former vitality to renewed life; a piece of roast meat quieted the pangs of hunger. While he ate, the boyar sat opposite him inspiring in him with kindly words the desire and courage to live.

“Foolish youth,” he said, “fellows like you need to live and not die! Life is a precious thing and for no riches in the world can you purchase it.”