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Here the Varegers, my forefathers, ruled, In lengthened line, for thirty generations; I am the last of all their lineage, snatched From murder by God's special providence. A Russian village. An open square before a church. The tocsin is heard. GLEB, ILIA, and TIMOSKA rush in, armed with hatchets. Why are they running? Who has tolled the bell. TIMOSKA. Neighbors, come forth!
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