Near its banks whispered large caps of foam, forming themselves into heaped-up necklaces of glistening pearls. Amid large and small sharply pointed rocks sticking up from its visible bottom wriggled gleaming pearly white and red-speckled trout. In the center, at the base of the cataract, thundered a silvery column of cascade, reflecting from the sun all the prismatic colors of the spectrum.
“What a marvelous sight!” exclaimed Peace-Renown, admiring the shimmering, colorful waterful catapulting along its rocky path, set off by an overhanging ledge of dark green spruce trees in contrast.
“This is our Tukhlia, our paradise!” replied Maxim, sweeping his eyes over the valley, mountain range and waterfall with a visible expression of such pride as few kings seldom bestow upon their own kingdoms.
“Only for me you are poisoning life within this paradise,” retorted Tuhar resentfully.
No reply was made to this remark. All three kept walking along wordlessly. They were nearing the village of Tukhlia where neat, wooden-shingled houses nestled in closely related groups, their yards hedged by mountain-ash, willow and wide-limbed pear trees. The people were all out, working in the fields. Only the stately, silver-haired, old grandfathers moved about the yards whittling something, making nets for fish or animals[1] and here and there gathered in groups to discuss the affairs of their community. Maxim nodded to them or shouted cheery greetings.
After a time Peace-Renown also greeted the ancients of Tukhlia whom they passed on the road. Only Tuhar Wolf walked along frowning morosely, without so much as a glance at the “smerdi”[2] who dared to rebel against the will of his king.
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