"Listen," said Taras, who had recovered himself. "I am not a highwayman, and I take you to be an honest peasant. So I will ask you to guide us. I want you--I am Taras, the avenger."

"Taras!" exclaimed the man, with a tone of the greatest surprise.

"Taras!" he repeated, leaning out from his window as far as he could.

"Is it you, indeed? Ah! it is too much almost to believe. What happiness--what honour!... Light the torch, wife, quickly, that I may see his face!... But no, you want me to come"--and he drew back his head; "I am coming--coming at once."

"No, stay. Tell me first--are you sure there is a body of hussars by the bridge?"

"Yes, certainly; some thirty of them. Are you in ignorance of their resolves against you at Colomea? I know all about it, having been to market to-day. And there is no need to hide it now, I made fifteen florins--out of my sheep, that is. And I have not told you my name--I am Stenko Worobka."

"Yes, yes, Stenko; tell me quickly."

"Ah, yes; I am an old fool! It is just this: with the early morning to-day the car returned, and the two constables safe enough, but no commissioner. The town was aghast; that is, the people said it was no great loss if Taras had a fancy for keeping Mr. Kap.r.o.nski; but it seemed certain that if he meant to carry out his threats at all he would come first to Colomea to strangle the mandatar. And so they dispatched a courier to Zablotow to call the hussars that brought such trouble to your own village, and I saw them arrive before night. But the magistrates did not approve that you and the soldiers should fight it out beneath their own eyes--dear me, that I should be able to tell you all this; what happiness! what rare good luck! What was I going to say?--yes, they resolved to catch you on the road, and so they ordered the hussars and such Whitecoats as were quartered in the city to station themselves in a half-circle between the town and the mountains, making sure thus to cut off your approach. The soldiers are all at their posts by this time; a body of hussars, as I told you, keeping the bridge yonder."

"And where are the rest of them?"

"Well, some guard the road towards Horodenka, others keeping a look-out in the direction of Cieniawa; others again are by St. Mary's Cross.

They think not a mouse could thus pa.s.s their vigilance, for they keep patrolling diligently."

"Well, we have not met a soul so far."

"I daresay--ha! ha! what a joke!--don't you see, this is just the one loophole in their net. They make sure that so long as they hold the bridge no one could cross this boisterous river."

"_Is_ it fordable?"

"Yes, to be sure--not very comfortably, but we can manage it--close by here.... So you are really bent on going to Colomea? There is no reason why you should not do so; why, they did not--ha! ha! how delightful!--they did not keep back a dozen soldiers."

Taras was revolving the situation in his mind. "We will do it," he said, after some cogitation; "it is a venture for life and death, but we will risk it. But there is not a moment to be lost."

The peasant was ready to guide them, and mounting behind one of the men, they dashed back to the others. Taras reported to them what he had just learned, "Let us venture," he said. "Yes, yes, let us try it,"

cried Julko and Nashko, in high spirits, all the others a.s.senting.

Under the peasant's guidance they forthwith set about fording the river; the current was wild and strong, the deep darkness of the night adding to the danger; but they crossed in safety. "We have managed it, thanks to you," said Taras to the peasant; "and here is your florin."

But Stenko refused, quite hurt at the offer. "Do you think I should take pay," he cried; "are you not our own avenger? Nay, I am more than rewarded, and you must let me come with you, for this night is darker than the inside of a cow--you would scarcely reach the town; besides, you will want to ford the river again as you return."

"But you have a wife and your property to think of. I must warn you,"

said Taras, "it would go ill with you if they caught you thus aiding us."

"They won't then," decided the peasant, confidently. "And don't you know that a man cannot escape his destiny? If it is my fate to come by an evil end I shall have to face it whether I guide you or not."

After which philosophical remark two of Taras's men had to be satisfied with being mounted one behind the other, leaving a horse free for the peasant who rode beside Taras at the head of the band. At a sharp pace they traversed the fields and meadows of Korolowka, and presently found themselves on the high road leading to the district town. The country appeared desolate; but close by the town they met some peasants who so late in the night had set out to return from their week's marketing.

Not that important business had detained them to this hour, but the public-house had, as might be judged by their unsteady gait. Yet the vapours of drink were at once dispelled when they found themselves suddenly surrounded and questioned by an armed band on horseback; and though trembling with fright they were able to confirm the news that all the garrison of the place as well as the hussars had been sent to waylay the Avenger, and only a handful of soldiers now were within, at the main guard-house, for the sake of sentry duty in the prisons.

They left the high road, Wa.s.silj Soklewicz now acting as guide, for he alone knew the villa where they hoped to find Hajek. It lay on the road towards St. Mary's Cross, a German colony; it was a s.p.a.cious building, but low, situated in its own grounds, which were guarded in front by a strong iron railing. Orchards stretched away at the back of it, and meadows on both sides. The nearest habitation was a quarter of a mile distant, the town fully a mile. Just as they came in sight of the place, a clear sound cut the air, the clock in the little belfry was announcing the first hour after midnight. And close upon it--already they could see the lighted windows of the house--a sharp whistle was given, followed by another....

The men started. "An ambush!" they cried. "Fall back!"

"No; forward," ordered Taras, spurring his horse. "The wretch has set spies to be warned of our approach.... He is here! There, look!..."

He was pointing towards the house, the lighted windows of which one after another were darkening rapidly. The gate, just as they reached it, closed with a bang, and retreating footsteps were heard.

"Try your axes!" cried Taras; and some of the men, jumping from their horses, belaboured the gate with powerful blows. The strong bars were bending, and some already giving way.

But suddenly the door of the villa opened, and between two torchbearers an aged man came forth, bareheaded, and carrying a key--it was Herr von Antoniewicz.

"My good people," he began, "why are you ruining my gate like this? Was there no better way of asking for admittance? There is no reason why you should not come in, if you tell me who you are and what brings you hither at this late hour."

"You know that well enough!" cried Taras; "the wretch is in hiding here."

"Yes," said the old man, continuing slowly and distinctly, "I am afraid we know that he cannot escape you, and I am ready to let you in, on your word of honour that you will harm no one else, and that you will not kill him here, but take him away with you. You see I am anxious to spare my daughter's feelings, who was going to be his wife."

"He seems to have found a worthy father-in-law, anyhow," said Taras, scornfully. "However, you have my word; now open on the spot."

The Armenian did so unhesitatingly. Julko and Nashko with the main body taking up their position by the gate, while Taras and some dozen of the men entered the grounds. About half of them were ordered to watch the exits of the house, the others following their captain inside.

"Where is the mandatar?" inquired Taras of Antoniewicz.

"Somewhere about the sitting-rooms," replied that worthy man, as quietly as though he were directing a casual visitor to his guest. "At least I left him there. He fell in a dead faint when I explained to him that I had no intention, nor indeed the power, to save him from your hands. I daresay he has recovered by this time, and is hiding in some corner."

Taras traversed the ante-hall, where Frau von Antoniewicz and the Countess Wanda awaited him kneeling. They were in floods of tears, trembling with emotion as they caught hold of his feet to stop his progress. "Mercy!" they moaned. "For pity's sake forgive him!" Taras endeavoured to free himself from their grasp, but they clung to him, and he was too much of a man to use force with women.

"Let me go," he said; "it is quite useless to waste a word about him."

But they clung all the faster, "What, shall I have to see it with my own eyes?" cried the amiable Wanda with dishevelled locks and rolling her eyes--a very picture of despair.

"You need not--you are free to leave the house. I have nothing to do with women."

"Alas!" whined the mother, "how should we, helpless women, venture to face all your men?"

"They won't harm you. Moreover, your husband is welcome to go with you.

Of course you will keep in the grounds for the present."

He sent an order to this effect to the men keeping the front door, and thereupon, with Jemilian, Sefko, Wa.s.silj, and one or two others of his most trustworthy followers, he set himself to search the rooms. Their torches flared brightly, but the s.p.a.cious apartments appeared untenanted. They looked into every chimney, beneath every couch, and behind the hangings with rising impatience, making such careful examination that not a kitten could have escaped, far less a man. But not a creature did they find. They had reached the last room on this floor--the dining room.

It was locked. "Ah!" said Taras, with a sigh of relief. The door soon yielded. The table showed the remains of dessert, empty champagne bottles and gla.s.ses half filled. There appeared to have been five covers.

"Who may have been the fifth at this feast?" said Jemilian, wondering.

"Caught him!" cried Wa.s.silj at this moment from the further corner of the room. "Here he is!" And sure enough something like a man it seemed, but in the strangest hiding place. The large fuel basket had been turned upside down, and emptied of its contents of firewood, and some one had squeezed himself in as best he might. But success was not equal to the effort, a pair of coattails showing treacherously; on Wa.s.silj giving the basket a kick it capsized, but the man inside stuck fast, yelling, however, vociferously.

"That is not Hajek's voice!" cried Taras, Wa.s.silj and Sefko dragging its owner from the basket. And, indeed, it was not the mandatar, but only the fifth at the late banquet, the ere-while champion of Poland's honour--Mr. Thaddeus de Bazanski. But how little he that was half-brother of Nicolas I. at this moment showed worthy of his august descent! His head and shoulders covered with wood chips, his garments torn, his knees trembling, and his face so white with terror that the nose itself had only the faintest flush left of its usual redness. Thus he stood before them, clutching the immortal confederatka to his bosom, and so overpowered with fear that he could only shiver and quake in speechless agony.

"Who on earth are you?" inquired Taras, peremptorily.

"I ... oh!... a visitor ... mercy! I could not help it!"

"Where is the mandatar?"

"He got away--made his escape while old Bogdan kept you talking ..."