“‘You are well aware,’ she said, ‘that I worship you.’
“‘Would that I were as well aware of it,’ he returned, ‘as that I am nothing to be worshiped.’ Then after a pause he added: ‘If you do love me, why not release this poor bird? See how wretchedly it huddles. Its eyes are becoming dull. It will surely die. How can we Serbs talk of freedom for ourselves, yet hold this wild creature prisoner? And of all birds, a kos—the bird of Kossovo! Permit me to open the door of the cage, Maro. Let us celebrate the Serbian holiday by liberating the poor kos. Shvabe cannot prevent that, with all their edicts.’
“Mara looked black.
“‘The holiday is not yet here!’ said she.
“‘When the day comes,’ he answered, ‘the kos will be dead.’
“‘I wish it were already dead!’ she exclaimed petulantly. ‘I wish I had never seen the accursed thing. It has brought me only sorrow!’
“‘Then,’ I interjected, ‘why not let it fly away?’
“‘I have told you both,’ she answered angrily. ‘This means more to me than the life or death of a bird. It is a symbol. I have the feeling that if it were to fly away all my will power would fly with it.’
“‘And to me also,’ returned the boy solemnly, ‘this means more than the life or death of a bird. And likewise to me the kos is a symbol. It should be so to every Serb. Think of Kossovo! This is a bird linked with our racial aspirations. If we free this one, we may, perhaps, ourselves deserve freedom. Otherwise, what do we deserve? Do we merit more than we ourselves give?’
“Having witnessed Mara’s agitation when she first told me of their differences over the bird, I would now have stopped Gavrilo could I have signaled him, but he was engaged in putting some green leaves through the door of the cage. As he finished speaking, Mara rose, dropped her sewing upon the ground, and bursting into tears ran into the house.