to fight with the evil Morsanna for the protection of the Tukholian inhabitants. Her heart filled with tenderness towards Maxim. How warmly and whole-heartedly she loved him at that moment!
Although Tuhar Wolf listened to Maxim’s story, it was easy to see that he was not greatly impressed by it. Turning once more to gaze up at the Sentinel of Tukhlia, he curled his lips in a disdainful smile as if he thought, “What silly fools these peasants, to put all their faith and hope in such ridiculous superstitions!”
They passed beyond the narrowest section of the stream and were once more in open daylight. Suddenly before their eyes appeared the long expanse of the Opir valley which, hemmed in by the winding, undulating crests of mountain ranges, stretched far out to meet the valley of Strey. The sun was setting, dipping its hot purplish-red rays in the wide, oscillating waves of the Opir river. The Tukholian stream roared and foamed madly downward to bathe itself in the Opir, whose waters, reflecting the last rays of the sun, resembled blood flowing from a deep wound. All around them rose the murmuring of the wind in the murky forests.
They stopped a moment, drinking in the unforgettable glory of the scene. Maxim seemed to be swayed by a strong emotion which was forcing him to give it utterance. Finally he took courage, moved nearer to Tuhar Wolf, trembling and blushing and began: “Father Boyarin!” in an abashed and unnaturally mild tone.
“What is it?”
“I want to become your most devoted servant . . .”
“Servant? Oh, of course! Come with your father tomorrow and be hired, if you’ve a mind to really work for me.”
“No, Boyarin, you misunderstand me. What I mean is . . . I want to be your son . . .”
“My son! But you have a father and from what I hear of
37
