“It is the oldest of all laws,” she said. “It was born perfect. It is yours if you accept it. And this law is the Law of Love.”
A peasant muttered: “One gives where one loves.”
The girl turned swiftly: “That is the soul of the Law!” she cried, “to give! Is there any other happiness, Tavarishi? Is there any other peace? Is there need of any other law?
“I tell you that the Law of Love slays greed! And when greed dies, war dies. And hunger, and misery die, too!
“Of what use is any government and its lesser laws and customs, unless it is itself governed by that paramount Law?
“Of what avail are your religions, your churches, xxxix your priests, your saints, relics, ikons––all your candles and observances––unless dominated by that Law?
“Of what use is your God unless that Law of Love also governs Him?”
She stood gazing at the firelit faces, the virginal half-smile on her lips.
A peasant broke the silence: “Is she a new saint, then?” he said distinctly.
A Cossack nodded to her, grinning respectfully: