“Fear God, father,” Riaby interjected. “What about the Vasylkiv church!”
Everyone began to talk at once.
“The bookshop in the Lavra!”
“And the kitchen.”
“The bell towers!”
“The monks’ cells.”
“And the Klovsky Palace!”
“The iconostasis in the Church of the Saviour at Berestove...!”
“Rubbish!” The master stopped them menacingly. “All this is a niggardly part of what I might have built with you, lads...”
“There’s still time!”
“No. A falcon with tied wings cannot soar, he can only run. Like a rooster, a drake, or a gander. Without freedom, my friends, there is no life, no soaring, no creativity!”
A silence set in. The intoxication disappeared in a flash. With heads bowed, the masons sat completely sober, suffering, like the martyrs who had risen from the dead on the walls of their c
