“Who, me?” Kalihraf feigned surprise.
“Well obviously not me.”
“It’s your imagination, Hrytsko. Archangel trumpets are singing in my soul. It is filled with peace and grace...”
“Then why are you roaring at everyone like a hungry lion?”
Kalihraf grew sullen. “Who did I roar at today?”
“The tavern-keeper...”
“Oh Lord! But he’s just a Jew!”
“He’s a human being.”
“They’re a damned tribe, extortionists!”
“And don’t you yourself hail from this tribe?”
Turning crimson, Kalihraf yelled: “I’m Orthodox Christian, do you hear! And don’t relegate me to those tormentors of Jesus!”
“I’m not. I’m simply curious,” Hryhoriy stopped him.
“Curious about what?!”
“I don’t believe that a person who has scorned his people, his faith and language, can enjoy spiritual peace...”
“Well, that’s heresy n
