"Yes, indeed," exclaimed an old man, "just eight years ago Taras built us the first cattle-fold, and the gain since has been double!"

"Long live Taras!" cried Simeon, half choking with sobs.

"Yes! yes!" broke in Wa.s.silj, the butcher, "if we feed better, it is because he showed us how!"

"And it is all true concerning the plough--I ought to know!" chimed a voice like that of a little boy. It was Marko, the smith, a giant to look at, who owned this queer little voice.

"Long live Taras!" repeated Simeon; one after another joining in the cry--"Yes, Taras for ever!"

But the unhappy man stood trembling, his bosom heaved, and tears ran down his haggard face. He tried to speak, but the words would not rise to his lips, nor could he have made himself heard for the people's wild acclamation. At last he succeeded, and, holding out his folded hands to them, he cried with a voice so rent with agony that his listeners grew white with dread.

"Stop! stop! for pity's sake, stop! Let not your thanks overwhelm me, lest your reproaches presently be the harder to bear. For pure and honest as my intention was, you will come to see I have lived to be a curse to myself and my family; a curse, also, to you!..."

There was a deep silence when he had thus spoken, a solemn pause, and all the harsher sounded the spiteful voice of the corporal which broke it: "A curse? ah, you own it! but you took care it should fall lightly on yourself, you who fooled an heiress and sneaked into the judgeship!"

"Hold your tongue, you villain!" burst from a hundred voices; and when Simeon added, indignantly, "Be off, wretch that you are!" the echo went round, "Be off!" The worthy hero grew pale, continuing, however, to smile and to twist his moustache, that finest of moustaches in all Pokutia. But ere long his smile forsook him, for he beheld a little armed band that had pressed up to the speaker, endeavouring now, with cries of resentment, to make their way to him. There were six of them--Hritzko and Giorgi Pomenko, the sons of Simeon; Sefko and Jemilian, Taras's men; Wa.s.silj Soklewicz, and with him a stranger--that same Lazarko Rodakowicz, whom Taras had admitted to his own followers, although he had come to him from Green Giorgi, the outlaw. They were in a towering rage, and evidently bent on punishing the corporal.

Constantino trembled visibly, offering not the slightest resistance when two of his comrades--like him, on furlough--took hold, one of his right arm and one of his left, to drag him away towards the inn. The people made room, but the words which fell from their lips were anything but complimentary. "You cur!" cried the men, "you heartless scoundrel, how dare you insult that man in his sorrow? ... Cannot you see that he has resolved upon an awful thing, even his own death? ...

And besides this, are you not one of ourselves, you beggar? Do you not know that respect is due to the general meeting?"

The crestfallen warrior saw fit to hold his peace, making what haste he could towards the safety of the inn. Not till he had gained the threshold did he find courage to bethink himself of some witty remark, but it shrank back within his own soul on his entering the parlour; he stood still, abashed.

They had laid down the wife of Taras on one of the broad wooden benches of the deserted place. The heart-broken woman was a sight to move any man; some of the women were striving to comfort her, especially the good little popadja and a kindhearted Jewess, the innkeeper's wife.

Poor a.n.u.sia had recovered from her swoon; she lay with wide-open eyes, moving her lips, and burying her hands wildly in the black ma.s.ses of her hair, which hung about the death-like face. But her mind seemed wandering, she gazed absently; and no words--a moaning only fell from her lips, rising to a smothered cry at times, and dying away. The women who tended her felt their blood run cold with the pity of it--no impa.s.sioned speech, no flood of tears, could have moved them like that stifled cry, as of a wild creature in an agony of pain. Once only she found the power of words when the corporal had just entered the room--"Away, whitecoat!" she cried.

But the next moment she raised herself on the bench, clasping her hands and holding them out to him with piteous entreaty: "No--stop--hear me!

Make him a prisoner--don't let him go--for the merciful Christ's sake, make him a prisoner!"

She sought to gain her feet, but the women held her back gently: "She is going out of her mind!" they whispered, awe-struck, making signs to the corporal to be gone. He was only too glad to obey, quaking with horror, and retreating to the open air. Silence had fallen without, and the crowd once more prepared to listen to the haggard, grief-maddened man, who had once been the gentlest and most peace-loving of them all, and whose wife could but entreat his meanest enemy now to hold him back from lawless deeds....

"To come to the point," Taras was saying, "the most painful part of it all--how did I come to be a curse to you, to myself, to all in this place? It is the consequence of an awful mistake; yet it was not my belief itself that was at fault, nor my trust in you, but my confidence in others!

"To this day it is my deepest, holiest conviction, and I will maintain it with my dying breath, that this world is founded on justice. To each of us, I hold, G.o.d has given a duty to perform, but we have our rights also, which others must not infringe. This indeed is the staff which the Almighty has given us to enable us to bear up under our load. For a burden each one has to carry. And for this reason no one shall dare to touch his neighbour's staff, or to add unrighteously to his load. For He that dwelleth above has ordered all things wisely, adjusting the burden of each man, and weighing it in the scales of His equity. The man who dares to interfere with this highest justice, sins against G.o.d's rule upon earth, and he shall not do so with impunity. But the Almighty does not visit every deed of wrong with His own arm; for He will not have us look upon justice, or atonement for its violation, as on something supernatural, but as on a thing essential to this life of ours, like the air we breathe. For this reason He has portioned out the earth into countries, calling a man to the rulership of each, to be judge in His stead, to protect the well-doer and to punish the evil-doer. This G.o.d-appointed man--it is the Emperor with us--has a great burden laid on him by the Almighty, but also a stronger staff to uphold him than any of ours, the Imperial power. Yet the most powerful man is but human, and even an emperor has but two eyes to see; and, like the poorest of his subjects, he can only be in one place at a time. So he, again, follows the divine example, portioning out his great empire into districts, appointing a man in each to be judge in his stead, and investing him for that purpose with some of his power--for since he is to bear part of the Emperor's burden, it is but fair he should have part of the Emperor's staff to strengthen him.

These men are the magistrates; and in their turn they follow out the example of their master, the Emperor, and the higher example of Him above--they see that every parish is administered by its own judge, yielding to him part of their power to guard the right. In like manner every village judge behaves to the heads of families. I look upon it as a glorious ladder, replete with comfort, uniting earth with heaven, and bringing us poor sinful men nearer to Him who made us. I say it is glorious, because the proudest intellect could not add anything to its perfect goodness; and I say it is replete with comfort, because the very lowest step of this ladder is under the same law as the highest.

For no matter whether I be a shepherd or a king, he who wrongs me is committing equal sin, and it is the duty of those to whom G.o.d has entrusted the power to protect the shepherd as though he were a king.

My duty is to do what is right, and not suffer any wrong silently, but to report it to those whom G.o.d has appointed to protect me. All further responsibility must rest with them!

"Such being to this day my holiest conviction, I am unable to swerve from my former opinion concerning you. You appeared to me like wild beasts, your love of avenging yourselves filled me with horror until I perceived whence it came; it was because you had not yet been taught to wean yourselves from the ways of your ancestors, who, descending from the mountains, settled here. They did well to look upon their firelocks as the best argument in maintaining their rights. For G.o.d will have the right respected, and the ladder I have spoken of is subservient to it; but where the influence of that ladder cannot make itself felt, as in the far-off mountain districts, the power of watching over his own right must return to the individual man. G.o.d Himself must have so willed it, otherwise He would not have peopled those outlying haunts.

But you, who are within reach of the law, continued to act as though G.o.d had never made the provision I have spoken of! It filled me with horror unspeakable; and if your lesser shortcomings had power to rouse that pride of mine, how much more so this offence!...

"Many of you will remember my wedding-day, and how I was laughed at for being so serious; but I was not sad, only full of thought. I knew that I was about to enter upon an entirely new life, a life beset with the most difficult duties. For when I stood before the altar I not only married the girl I loved, but, if I may so express it, I married this village; and not only to her, but to you also, ay, and to Justice herself, I promised with a sacred oath to be faithful unto death. No words of mine could ever express what I felt on that day, how my thoughts from my own newly-granted happiness would roam away to a solemn future. For I knew that all my life in this place would be a falsehood if I did not strive with might and main to bring you to accept that will of G.o.d for yourselves also.... On my wedding-day! such a terrible taskmaster was that pride of mine!...

"I set about it. I soon perceived that I could do little unless I had power vested in me--unless I were elected to the eldership. But I scorned the idea of bringing about that end by despicable means. I could only leave it with G.o.d--whose kingdom I strove to uphold--to guide your minds. And when I had been chosen, I directed my every effort to the furthering of the glorious end I had in view.

"That same end was still my desire when the new mandatar arrived four years ago. You there and then turned against him; I spoke for him.

Events have since shown that you were right in your antipathy, for he is a wicked man; but you were wrong nevertheless, hating him only because he was the mandatar. This dislike of yours came to be the test of my influence with you; for those of you whom I could convince that it was wrong to hate him because it was his business to claim the labour we owed to his master, could learn to understand also about that will of G.o.d. I did succeed with many of you, and the day was at hand that should prove it; for when the mandatar came down upon as with his demand, expecting us to render the tribute of our live stock to the very day, you accepted my view of the question. It was the same in the more difficult matter concerning the forest labour. I shall never forget what I felt after those meetings. 'Thou G.o.d of Justice'

my heart kept crying, 'these people are learning to accept Thy will!'

Old Stephen turned from me--a real grief--but it could not lessen the holy joy I felt. Indeed, that same joy would have been mine if those meetings had cost me"--he said it slowly, and with marked emphasis--"the love of my wife, or the welfare of my children! The rupture between me and him was irretrievable; there could be no agreement between the village as it had been and the village as it should be according to my hopes, and, therefore, none between Stephen and me. Even his dying words, greatly as they touched me, offered abundant proof that his thoughts and mine concerning the most sacred things in life had ever been widely apart. I did not understand him when he said to me, 'It cannot but end ill when the judge is of another caste than the people he is called to rule.' ... I believed, on the contrary, that it would be an ill thing for Zulawce if the judge, like the rest of the people, were given to violence. Now if there had been among you a man of a like mind with myself, and better than I, I would have thought it wrong to seek the judgeship; but as it was, my very conscience laid it upon me to do so. I was chosen unanimously, as never a judge before me or since. I was glad for myself, and more glad for your sakes. There was little danger now, I thought, that you should ever fail in your duty to the Count, or try to right yourselves by force of arms. That the new mandatar was a miserable scoundrel I knew soon enough; it caused me vexation and disgust--the kind of disgust one feels in touching a toad--but I never for a moment considered it a cause of alarm. How should the righteous come to suffer in a country where justice prevails? So I never even threatened him; ay, more than this----"

He paused as though he had to brace himself up for p.r.o.nouncing the words that must follow. But presently he added, "I have to say that which hitherto has been utterly unknown to you. Let your wrath be upon me, for it furnished the root whence all this trouble has sprung. Yet I could not have acted differently. It was myself who a.s.sured the rascal, on his hypocritical inquiry, that we should never meet violence with violence; and it was this a.s.surance of mine that gave him the courage to wrong us, coward that he is!"

A cry of rage, not unmixed with surprise, burst from the a.s.sembled men, followed once more by a deep silence, when nothing was heard but their excited breathing; they were anxious to hear more, and he continued: "You have a right to be angry! But I also was right in thus speaking to him. And the proud confidence whence those words of mine had sprung did not forsake me when he dared violence. I was more deeply roused than any of you, because I loved the right more deeply. But we had need to keep our hands pure, both for our own sakes and for the dear sake of justice, for the guilt of it all must be left with him entirely; therefore, I staked my very life to prevent your having recourse to violence on your side. I thanked G.o.d that I succeeded; and for the rest of it, it no longer was concern of ours, but of the imperial law court.

I waited for the verdict as never before did human soul wait and hunger for the word of man! and when at last it was given--well, if you will take into account my life and the man I am, you will understand that no human tongue can describe the indignation which possessed me. I was utterly broken, yet not with impotent rage, nor yet with my just resentment against those miserable weaklings that should have righted us--but only with an utter pity for myself. For at the very moment when that hunchback creature of a clerk made known to us their decision, the conviction darted through me: 'Poor Taras! if right and justice are not to be trampled under foot, you will have to become a law-breaker in the sight of men!'--I, the happy husband and father, the good, peace-loving judge--a _law-breaker_! ... _That_ was what smote me down, making me swoon like a woman, and for _this_ reason I cried and moaned like a child when I returned to consciousness. Still, it was at that time only a thought, brooking no gainsaying it is true, but there was no resolve about it, still less any planning. My mind was overshadowed with the thunder-cloud that hung heavy on the inward horizon. I had not yet come to consider the ruin that lurked in its blackness, and as yet I gazed upon it with horror and dismay as upon a thing within the range of vision only, but outside the circle of my soul. And once again confidence lifted her head. What though the court of the district had failed to do right, there were other steps of the ladder beyond! I carried our complaint to the court of appeal at Lemberg, hoping and waiting yet again. But not with the strong hope of the former waiting!

The mind yet clung to it, but my heart had lost its a.s.surance. And the cloud remained. It spread more and more, forcing me to consider how it would break. And then,"--his voice sank to a hoa.r.s.e whisper--"and then I felt an inward compulsion to go hunting in the mountains ... it was there I came to see how it would end....

"On returning--it was about this season last year--I found the superior court's verdict. The plea was declared to be groundless. I did not burst into a rage, I did not even lament; but I saw that the cloud must break. It was due, however, not only to me and mine, but even to humanity, once again to consult my legal adviser. He mentioned the Emperor; it was only by way of saying something, for the poor man, himself helpless in the matter, pitied my distress. But that remark lit up my night, comforting me greatly; it sent its radiance across the dreary wild in which the straying wanderer had vainly been seeking his home. The darkness, the terrors were forgotten, for the light of his own hearth had shone forth to guide him. I had forgotten that there was one on earth whom the matter concerned even more than myself, because G.o.d had laid it upon him as a great and holy duty; and I knew now it was my duty to go to that man--to appeal to the Emperor. I went to Vienna, upborne by a boundless hope! it gave me courage to face the strange country, to face every difficulty in my way to reach the ear of Majesty....

"But when I had seen him--it required no word of his--I knew that my hope was vain. Now, I will not have it said of me that I speak unjustly of any man; let me say, therefore, I do not look upon the Emperor of Austria as on one who loves wickedness or unrighteousness. He is a poor, sickly creature, fond of his lathe they say, and he seemed very anxious to know about my boots and breeches. That is all; for he is my enemy now, whom I shall have to oppose as long as there is breath in this body, and it behoves a man to speak more generously of his enemy than of his dearest friend....

"I returned home as a man who knows what is before him, and, recognising his duty, determines that the inevitable shall not find him unprepared. I acted accordingly with a sadness unspeakable, abiding the imperial decision. Not that I was foolish enough to hope it might turn out favourably; but what I meditated grew to be right only when the Emperor's refusal had reached me. It would have been sin before! But the time of waiting must not be lost.... Once again I retired into the mountains, endeavouring to make myself at home there more and more....

"Last night Father Leo transmitted to me the final decision. It is unfavourable. I have it much at heart that you should understand it is the denial in itself and nothing else in the writ that has ripened my intention. Some foolish clerk has clothed the refusal in unkind words, talking of prison unless I submitted. But I know better than to imagine that he did so by order of that harmless man, the Emperor, who is too good-natured to think of hurting a fly. It is not that which moves me.

Nay, if he had penned it with his own hand I would not care a straw about it, any more than I should be influenced to the contrary if he were to write: 'My dear Taras, it grieves me sorely to deny your request; but I am anxious to reward your honest zeal by sending you the golden cross with which I decorate great heroes.' I should send back his cross, and would proceed with the duty which is before me."

As these words were falling from his lips his armed companions--Sefko and Jemilian, Wa.s.silj Soklewicz and Lazarko Rodakowicz--had approached him more closely, standing quite near to him now. Their faces were white and quivering with emotion, most of all Jemilian's, who could not restrain his tears as he turned to his master, handing him his gun.

"Not yet," said Taras gently; but he took the weapon, leaning upon it as he continued, distinctly, slowly, and solemnly: "Now listen to me, ye men, and all that have come to hear me! Listen attentively, that you may be able to repeat my words to any that should ask you. A fearful wrong has been committed in this village--there has been robbery and perjury. I have used every means provided by the law to undo it. It has been of no avail. The perjured witnesses remain unpunished, and the wrongdoer enjoys the benefit of his robbery. Nay more--not only have I vainly appealed to the const.i.tuted authorities, the guardians of our right, but I have done so to your hurt and mine. I have been a curse to the village, because I strove for justice. He who loves the right must suffer, and the evildoer flourishes!

"It is incredible, and how should one understand it? Is that fair faith of mine falsehood and deception? Is it not true that G.o.d has put an Emperor over the land, giving him much power, that he should see to the right? Is there no such ladder as I have spoken of binding earth to the high courts of heaven?

"Yes--yes, and yes again! It is so, it must be so everywhere where men would dwell in safety; but it is not so with us. In this unhappy place the arbitrariness, the unfitness, the carelessness of men has counteracted the holy will of G.o.d, making the wrong victorious!

"What, then, is the consequence for every right-seeking man? I have shown that wherever the divine inst.i.tution is powerless, as for instance in distant mountain haunts, it is not incompatible with the will of G.o.d that every man should be the guardian of his own right. And how should it be otherwise in an unhappy place, where the wicked man's violence is left to trample down the right with impunity? In such a place also the power of protecting his life and goods must return to the individual man. If there is no Emperor to help me, I must help myself!

"Hear, then, these three things. Let them he repeated from mouth to mouth, that all men shall know them who dwell in this unhappy land in which justice is not to be found!

"Firstly! Since the Emperor is not doing his duty towards me, I am not bound by my duty towards him. And therefore I, Taras Barabola, declare before Almighty G.o.d and these human witnesses that I can no longer honour and obey this Emperor Ferdinand of Austria. His will in future is nothing to me, I disown and disregard it; and in all things in which hitherto I have acted according to his laws I shall henceforth be guided by my own conscience solely. Should he cause me to be summoned I shall pay no heed; should he despatch his soldiers to catch me, I shall defend myself. And since his magistrates abuse their power to the furtherance of wrong, and he takes no steps to prevent it, I shall strive to lessen that power as much as possible, waging war upon it wherever I can! I shall do this anywhere, everywhere, while I can lift a hand! Yes, I, Taras Barabola, in the name of Almighty G.o.d, herewith declare war against the Emperor of Austria!--War!--War!"

A shriek rose from the people, surprise, horror, approval and disgust blending together in a single cry, which died away as suddenly and completely as though it had been wrung from these hundreds of listeners--an involuntary outburst of their mute dismay.

"Secondly! Because justice is withheld from us, I shall take it by force. I shall oblige the mandatar to indemnify the village. Yet this will not be the extent of my duty, but only a beginning. If the name of Almighty G.o.d is not to be dishonoured in this country, there is need of a judge, of an avenger, before whom the evil-doer shall tremble and whom all good men can trust. And since there appears to be no one else for this holy office, I shall undertake it, looking upon it as a sacred duty while life shall last. I will be a protector to the oppressed in the Emperor's stead, since he is not. And because his power is with the wrong-doer, I shall require a strong arm to oppose it. I shall unfurl my banner up yonder in the mountains; let each and all come to me that will serve the right. The wild forest which hitherto has been the haunt of lawbreakers only, must now be a gathering-place for those that honour the law, but to whom justice is dearer. There I shall dwell, beyond the reach of any of their hirelings. I shall swoop down upon the dwellings of men whenever the high calling I have accepted requires me to do so, and I shall return thither having avenged the wrong."

"A hajdamak!" cried Simeon, despairingly. "Our Taras a hajdamak!"

"Taras a hajdamak!" echoed the people, some scornfully, some in utter dismay, according to the hatred or pity that rose uppermost.

"No!" cried Taras, a deep flush overspreading the pallor of his face.

"G.o.d forgive you for insulting me at this time. A hajdamak is a brigand, but I shall be the leader of a band of avengers, and we shall fight against every evil-doer--against those scoundrels also who go by that name. Let me add, now, what in the third and last place I have to say. Within a week from this, by Easter Sunday, my banner will be unfurled up yonder. Whoever can come to me with pure hands, either to inform me of a wrong committed, or to join my band, will be able to learn my whereabouts from any honest herdsman or bear-hunter of the forest. But let him consider it well before he becomes a follower of mine. If he seek pleasure or lawlessness let him not come near me, for our living will be of the poorest, and I shall maintain the strictest discipline. If he hope for booty let him keep away; for no plundering will be allowed, and with my own hand shall shoot the man who, while following my banner, shall dare to touch any man's goods. Let none come to me who can testify to being happy, for he that follows me must know that there is no returning, that he has separated himself for ever from all men dwelling in peace; he must be ready to meet death any day, either in open combat, which is a death to be courted, or on the gallows, as though he were an evil-doer indeed. It would not be thus if men were different, if generosity and self-denial were not so rare in the world; for then my banner could be that of open insurrection, enlisting all good men against the common foe--the wrong to be put down. But this cannot be; I must be satisfied with the possible.

"And now I pray you to make this known, not forgetting to add that Taras Barabola will continue this war until he has gained the great end he strives for, until that glorious, divine inst.i.tution is visibly established in this land. If I can but succeed, let happen to me what may, and though I should have to pay for it with my own life, I should meet even the felon's death a victor indeed."

He paused, his breast heaving, and then he added, with faltering voice:--

"And now ... fare ye well! Accept my best wishes, individually and as a community .... I am grateful to those who ever did me a kindness, and forgive those who have done me any wrong ... Be good to my unhappy wife, to my poor little children.... I leave them here--ah, forsaken indeed.... Pity them, don't pity me.... If you will but believe I am not wantonly becoming an outlaw that is all I look for.... It may be the last time you see me.... May your life be happier than mine....

Farewell!"

These broken words fell upon so deep a silence that they were heard plainly by all that crowd of listeners, although his voice had sunk to a whisper, quivering with tears. And none dared break the silence when he had finished, until, with a sudden leap from the table, and surrounded by his companions, he strove to make a way for himself towards the church.