whoIs leading us over the roadway of gold,
Let's only remember that we're brightly striving
To reach for the diferent, the new and the strong,
And to reach for the evil, in our dreams of gold.
Let's always address our prayers to the unearthly
In all of our earthly desires!
A heart's ignited by the sun. The sun so quickly to eternity is driving. The sun is an eternal window To the golden blinding.
* * *
A pauper heart is flled with evil,
Burnt and ground up.
But our souls are mirrors:
All refecting gold.
Part I
The Turbulent Years
Chapter 1: Return to the Poltava Region
«Is this truly the end? Is it an eternal farewell?» The enchanting dark-haired girl couldn't tear her gaze away from the window. For the first time in her life, the journey felt like a tragedy.
The renowned Kiev hills, adorned with golden-domed inclusions, vanished around the bend, already obscured by a gentle green haze. Farewell, Khreschatyk Street, with your cozy pastry shops and bookstores! Farewell, student debates and concerts featuring transient celebrities! Farewell to dreams and aspirations…
For some reason, memories of riding the funicular along her favorite Route 15, tracing the slope of Saint Volodymyr Hill, came flooding back. And then, how the electric carriage offered a breathtaking view of the picturesque slopes and the sprawling Podil below, nestled by the buildings of St. Michael's Golden-Domed Monastery.
A mundane rural existence awaited the girl. Was this truly what young Olga had envisioned when she entered the Higher Institute of Public Education, which was the amalgamation of the former Imperial University of St. Vladimir and the Higher Education Courses For Women!
Having escaped to the metropolis from the countryside, she immediately felt at home in Kiev. Despite the city's lingering echoes of the turbulent events of the past decade, it had sprung back to life. Vibrant and dynamic, filled with literary associations, theater and dance studios, cinema and circus – all, of course, brimming with innovation and experimentation. It seemed as if the city was inundated with young people, eager to transform the world, purging it of all the sordidness and darkness left by the tumultuous and dreadful post-revolutionary years. Suffering, uncertainty, and famine – what did those matters signify? A new life and a brilliant future lay ahead!
Seventeen-year-old Olga, replete with hope, journeyed towards her coveted Kiev, oblivious to the thorny path to knowledge that lay before her. Yet, in essence, nothing truly terrible had befallen her; such was the nature of time, casting its hardships upon all.
And then, out of the blue – expulsion! It was suddenly discovered that her older brother, Ivan Gurko, was a Yunker (the rank for a volunteer at military service in the Imperial Russian Army in 19th and 20th centuries) at the Grand Duke's Konstantin Konstantinovich Kiev Infantry Military School – an institution that had also graduated the notorious White Guard General A. Denikin. Ivan had enlisted in the Volunteer Army, defending Perekop from the assaults of the Red Cavalry, but beyond that, his fate remained unknown to his kin.
How did this information surface at the institute? Olga herself had never dabbled in politics. However, she had witnessed a great deal: the ever-changing flags at the small station, seeking refuge in the cellar from shelling and the intoxicated adherents of successive «authorities,» and her own mother, a resolute Cossack, succumbing to typhus within a matter of days.
The whirlwind of parties, ideologies, wars, and revolutions left her bewildered. Such were the thoughts of the girl. Yet, it turned out that these matters were of significance, even decisive, to others. The institutes had special commissions that identified students with unsuitable family backgrounds or socially-alien views. «Socially alien! I wonder if they themselves ever experienced hunger?»
At least she managed to secure a job referral. Her «appropriate» worker-peasant background aided her in that regard!
And there she was – almost back in her homeland. The Poltava Governorate, Lubensky Uyezd (District), and the quaint village of Lazirky. As Olga arrived at the small station, a cascade of childhood memories flashed before her eyes…
Now she found herself in an ancient Cossack village perched on the lofty banks of the Sliporid River. The school consisted of merely two clay houses, modest mud huts for the younger and older pupils. The principal, a genial and elderly figure, greeted her warmly, saying, «Make yourself at home, my daughter. Get comfortable.» At first, the locals looked upon her with a hint of wariness (as is often the case in villages towards strangers), but overall, they were friendly, awaiting the arrival of an elementary school teacher for quite some time…
Olga prepared herself for the inevitable scrutiny and gossip, maintaining a poised and affable demeanor, with a touch of dignity. Judging by the welcoming glances, the community embraced the newcomer.
One young lad, with a short and sturdy physique, in particular, exhibited special favor. Olga had not paid much attention to the local boys upon her arrival, but this one seemed to appear near the school far too frequently. So often, in fact, that one day, when she encountered him at the gate, the teacher could not resist asking:
«Isn't it a little late for a first-grader?»
«I actually graduated school, Mrs. Gurko,» the boy replied nonchalantly.
«And what do you do now?» Olga pondered to herself, «Impressive, he even speaks well.»
«My father owns the mill, and that's where I work,» he answered.
The heir to the «flour-milling dynasty» was named Anton. When he escorted Olga home, he hesitated at the gate, bid her farewell, but then mustered the courage to say:
«We have dancing on Saturdays. You should come to our club.»
Olga was taken aback; this was unexpected. «You are quite bold,» she thought.
«You're always alone. You've been here for three months now, and you only go to and from school, to the store, and to the river,» he observed.
«Are you stalking me?!» Olga inquired cautiously, as she cherished her moments of solace by the river, indulging in girlish reveries. Witnessing eyes were not needed.
«No, I just happen to see you,» he responded, entirely unashamed.
«He certainly has a nerve,» Olga mused.
«So, I'll come by the day after tomorrow?»
«Please do, you're welcome.»
Olga was surprised by how readily she accepted the invitation. It was about time she embraced this new life. The evenings had been rather lackluster… «Well, perhaps I shall become a 'beautiful miller'…» she chuckled sadly, feeling that Kiev seemed more distant and unattainable than ever before.
Not even a month later, the situation began to take on more clarity. Olga was
