"I have considered this point often," said Taras, quietly; "it is true that I have heard of far more just than unjust sentences. But what of it, what _can_ it prove?"

"Just this," rejoined Father Leo, warmly, "that an occasional miscarriage of justice is not to be explained by imputing it to the ill-will of magistrates. What else, then, is to blame? you inquire. I remind you that for one thing there is that unfortunate survival of feudal times, whereby the lord of the manor is vested with judicial authority over the peasantry on his lands; this is fully acknowledged to be an evil, not only by you and me, but by Government as well. But it cannot be done away with all of a sudden, nor by violent means, for the landlords exercise their jurisdiction in virtue of Imperial grants acquired by purchase in times long gone by. It is this deplorable state of things which is to blame chiefly, if oppression and injustice go more easily unpunished in this country than elsewhere. But do not imagine, Taras, that we are the only people who ever suffer wrong; nay, that beautiful ladder which has appeared to you in happy vision is not anywhere on earth so firmly planted, so utterly to be relied on, as you dreamed. For the guardianship of Justice in this world is not given to G.o.d's angels, but to poor sinful men like you and me. G.o.d alone is all-knowing, all-wise, and all-just, and it is man's inheritance to judge of things not as they are, but rather as they appear. I do not deny that there may be unjust judges here and there; yet it is not this fact which is to blame for the continuance of wrong upon earth, but the imperfection of human nature. For everything human falls short of its highest aim, and perfect justice is with G.o.d alone; if, therefore, you are bent on continuing your warfare, it will not be against the Emperor and his magistrates, nor against the wrong upon earth, but against human nature and human failings."

Taras had bent his eyes on the ground thoughtfully; but after a pause of silence he shook his head. "I have followed you," he said, "and I grant the truth of your points. But of one thing, the most important of all, you cannot convince me. I will never believe that a man endowed with good sense, provided he is honest, could pa.s.s an unjust sentence as it were against himself. And therefore I must continue in my sacred undertaking, for it is nothing to the point _why_ any wrong goes unpunished--whether the human weakness, or stupidity, or the ill-will of the magistrates be at fault. It is enough for me that the wrong is there and requires to be rooted out."

"This is sheer infatuation!" cried Father Leo. "And have you ever considered which is the greater wrong, either as regards your fellows or the will of G.o.d--whether some peasant is taxed with more labour than he owes, or whether you fill all the land with horror and bloodshed?

Nay, has not a harvest of wrong sprung from your very work? Have we not heard of villages rising against their lords, refusing their just claims, and threatening their lives? Have you forgotten what happened at Hankowce? and what at Zulawce? Does not the blood of many a soldier--nay, of your own men--cry for vengeance unto G.o.d?"

"I am not afraid to be answerable for this," responded Taras, "for the Right is more to be valued than any man's life. Both my conscience and my reason tell me that, for the world itself is founded on justice."

"The world founded on justice!" reiterated the pope, hotly. "And how do you know, then, that your judgment is always just? Are not you a man like others, and liable to err?"

"I follow conscience, and rely on the grace of G.o.d, which will be with him who seeks what is right. You know my deeds; do you accuse me of any injustice?"

"What of that poor man Hohenau!"

"He was one of those magistrates who used the power entrusted to them for a deed of violence, for fear of earthly punishment."

"Taras," cried the pope, with a vain attempt to speak calmly, "there is no excuse for you, or rather your only excuse is this, that you did not know the true state of things----"

"I knew all about it," rejoined Taras. "I was aware that the Board of Colomea had prayed to be dismissed the service rather than be obliged to do this deed. But what of it? You will tell me that their request was refused by their superiors, and that their oath required them to stay at their post and obey the higher authority. But I tell you no oath binds a man to iniquity--and therefore the judgment I carried out was a just one!"

Starkowski interposed: "It is quite useless to reason with you on these points, or to expect you to retract anything of the past. But tell me, what of the future? Do you really consider yourself infallible? Do you imagine that you alone will never be in danger of pa.s.sing sentence unjustly? This is awful presumption!"

"No," said Taras, solemnly; "it is an a.s.surance resting on the grace of G.o.d. He sees and probes my heart. He knows that I have undertaken this warfare for His sake alone, and He will not let me fall so grievously.

But even apart from this, I do think that an honest, right-minded, and judicious man will always be able to distinguish right from wrong."

"Then you really believe that an unjust sentence on your part is utterly impossible? Well, let this pa.s.s; but supposing the hour ever came that would convince you that you also, in striving after justice, had done wrong--what then?"

"It were the most fearful hour of my life," said Taras, hoa.r.s.ely; "and I do not speak lightly!... I have never considered what in that case I should have to do, but it is quite plain. If G.o.d ever suffers me to commit the wrong, then I shall acknowledge that He never was with me, that the blessed ladder joining earth to heaven is a dream, and I shall no longer call myself an avenger, but an evildoer who has deserved every punishment he has ever inflicted on others. If ever such terrible conviction does come to me, be very sure I shall give myself up to you on the spot. Till then, I have nothing to do with you. Take back this message to those that sent you."

Deep silence followed.

"Is this your final decision?" These words fell on the stillness with stifled sobs. It was a.n.u.sia--white as death, bending forward, hollow-eyed and shaking in every limb--who now faced her husband.

The two men were dismayed, and even Taras staggered. "a.n.u.sia," he began, "you know----"

"Nothing else; just this one answer!" She looked straight into his eyes, and continued with that same ghastly voice: "But let me tell you first what is at stake.... Hitherto I have clung to this one conviction, that all your deeds were done in obedience to the dictates of your conscience; and because I have known you as a man more n.o.ble and more just than your neighbours, I would not permit myself to doubt for one moment that you continued n.o.ble and acted justly even where I could not see it. I took it upon myself to be both father and mother to our children, to rule the farm in your absence--the loss to my heart I could not make good. But in my sorest hours I strove to encourage myself. 'Hold up thy head proudly,' a voice within me kept crying, 'for thou art wife to one who is not like common men! Thou hast loved him for it, and prided thyself on it, bear thou the deep sorrow which comes because of it. He never was like other men; he cannot be now. He has set his great heart on winning back that field for his people, for it is theirs by right, and since he was foiled when he sought to gain his end by lawful means he is now trying what force will do. Since justice is on his side, he will succeed in the end, and will come back to you, and happiness once more will return.' This was my one hope through it all, and I believed in its fulfilment and fed upon the longed-for blessing. When the governor came to tell me what message had been received from Vienna, ah! then indeed, my heart beat with the rapture of its grat.i.tude! I learned at the same time, however, that they could not let you go unpunished, and that you might very likely have to atone for your deeds with a long imprisonment; but even this my love and pride were ready to bear. 'He will not be a whit less great and n.o.ble,'

I said to myself, 'and prison cannot degrade him! And far better to know him in prison, and making up for these months, than to think of him continuing this fearful life.' For, Taras, no human tongue can tell what it means to be the avenger's wife! G.o.d knows, and I do!... And will you now crown it all--will you heap up a burden of grief and shame beneath which I and the children must break down entirely?"

"a.n.u.sia!"

"Be silent, and listen! I have borne the utmost; now let me speak. I say this, that unless you return, now that the wrong is about to be made good, and the field given back to its rightful owners, you will cease to be believed in as n.o.ble and good, not only by me, but by all upright and sensible men; you will no longer be a champion of the oppressed and an avenger for conscience' sake, but a mere common a.s.sa.s.sin, a bloodthirsty----"

"a.n.u.sia, wife, for G.o.d's sake----"

"Do not call me wife! I will not acknowledge an a.s.sa.s.sin as my husband, nor let the children call him father. Now tell me--are you willing to follow these gentlemen or not?"

"I cannot!"

"Then go your ways ... but in your dying hour you shall call me in vain ... I will not----"

She could not finish the terrible sentence, breaking down, not in unconsciousness, but overpowered with the boundless pa.s.sion of her resentment....

The unhappy man hid his face in his hands, and then slowly, with a faltering step, but not again lifting his eye to her he was leaving, he returned to his horse, and, mounting it with evident effort, he rode swiftly away towards the Black Water, nor once looked behind him.

CHAPTER XX.

THE BANNER SOILED.

The following day the district governor arrived at Zulawce. He had been careful to let the villagers have full a.s.surance beforehand that he was coming with truly peaceful intentions, but he considered it prudent, nevertheless, to provide himself with a considerable escort of hussars, since besides sifting the evidence concerning the field, there was that republic to be overthrown, and a new mandatar to be introduced. For Count George Borecki had succeeded at last in finding a man who expressed himself willing to unravel the complication left by Wenceslas Hajek, this man of enterprise fortunately being an old acquaintance of the villagers, Mr. Severin Gonta; and there was some hope of his succeeding, for he was thoroughly acquainted with local affairs and enjoyed the good will of the peasantry besides. But Herr von Bauer was not so certain that hostility was entirely out of the question, and apart from the consciousness of doing his duty in a matter of justice; he very gladly relied on the sharp sabres of his body-guard as well.

But his apprehensions happily proved unfounded. On his reaching the wooden bridge leading over the Pruth, the whole parish, to be sure, was there awaiting him, but peacefully inclined, thanks to Simeon Pomenki, who had addressed the republicans on the previous evening to this effect: "There now, you see, we get all we ever could ask for--the field which is ours, our own old mandatar, who is no fiend, and exemption from punishment for what is pa.s.sed. If we are not satisfied with this, but insist on carrying on the conflict, we had better apply for admission into the madhouse at once. But I am no fool, and prefer the chances offered me of continuing on my farm." This harangue did not miss its aim, and Simeon was able to receive the district governor in the name of the community respectfully.

Herr von Bauer was ready to be conciliated, and replied with his customary bluntness: "It is a satisfaction to see you, rascals though you are; but you are poor wretches after all, and have had to suffer for the life you have led us, so we'll forget all about it and be friends again. As for you, old Simeon, I'll not even inquire into your private feelings as King of Zulawce. You'll hand me over that crown now, and if ever you men here are going to play the fools again, send us word first, and we'll say be hanged to all the parish. So that is settled; and in the meantime we shall expect better things of you."

After which impressive statement old Gonta addressed the peasantry on behalf of the Count, and if he was less outspoken, his kindliness was quite as apparent, winning over the villagers entirely when he a.s.sured them in conclusion that he was prepared himself to plead their rights concerning that field, and that he felt sure of Count George's readiness to withdraw any claims that might have been urged in his name, without waiting to see what decision the authorities might form.

In these circ.u.mstances it was easy for the district governor to arrive at the truth concerning the field, though he experienced some difficulty in eliciting a confession from the perjured witnesses. The experienced magistrate perceived well enough--and was ready to make allowance for it--that these persons would think it hard to be excluded from the general pardon; but he went through with his duty bravely, a.s.suring them that, although the instigators could expect little mercy, those who had been led on by them might hope to be treated leniently, if a point of the law could possibly be stretched in their favour. And he succeeded at last in making out several cases in which the mandatar, either personally or by means of his under-steward, Boleslaw, had corrupted the witnesses and led them on to perjury. He had the true charity not to inquire more closely than was absolutely necessary, and allowed the crest-fallen sinners to return to their homes, the judge going bail on their behalf.

His object accomplished, he returned to Zablotow, where Dr. Starkowski and Father Leo were to await him with the results of their mission. He was fully prepared to hear of their failure, and not surprised, therefore, at their tale.

"We shall have to proceed now against the misguided man," he said, quietly. "Let him do his worst. We can breathe more freely now than we could before, for our own conscience is at ease! To be sure, all we can do for the present is to protect the lowlands against him as best we can; an expedition to the Black Water, in the hope of catching him, would be sheer madness, for the whole of the Carpathians would rise in an uproar. I know those Huzuls! But he will be brought to book somehow.

It is well he believes that G.o.d is with those who seek what is right--he will find it so sooner or later!"

September verged upon October, and though almost daily expected, no farther violence transpired, the reason being that no complaints had reached Taras which appeared to him worthy of redress. But before the month was out he received information which roused him to action. A certain n.o.bleman, Baron Stephen Zukowski, of Borsowka, in the district of Czortkow, was accused to him by Karol WyG.o.da, the piper, who had continued with Taras, and in whom the latter rested full confidence.

"Your work is but half done, hetman," the man exclaimed, "while that fiend is allowed to suck the very blood from the people of Borsowka!"

and he enumerated a whole string of iniquities to be brought home to that n.o.bleman.

Taras was indignant. "We will put an end to his doings!" he cried. "But how do you come to know of them?"

"I knew the wretch long ago; for though my own home is miles away from that village, I was in service there in my younger days, and could see for myself--indeed, his unblushing crimes were done in the light of day. Not a head of cattle was safe from his cupidity, and not a girl from his wickedness--but these are old tales, it is well nigh twenty years ago, and I believed the old sinner had gone to his account long since. But he is alive still, and carrying on his evil doings, as I learned yesterday, quite accidentally. You had given me leave, as you know, to join the merrymaking at Zabie and pick up a few coppers with my bagpipe. I met an old fiddler there who had just come from Borsowka.

Ah, hetman, the iniquity done in that place keeps crying to heaven--it is worse than any we ever heard of elsewhere! 'Why don't the injured people call upon Taras to help them?' I inquired of the fiddler.

'Indeed,' he said, 'it is strange they do not think of it, but the horrors of their existence are enough to kill even hope in their hearts.' So the fiddler said, and I can well believe it; at the same time, I agree it is well to be careful. And I propose that you should send me to Borsowka to make inquiry. I know some folk there whom I can trust, and they will tell me the truth no doubt. I feel I must do this for conscience' sake, and out of compa.s.sion for those villagers among whom I lived."

"This is good of you," said Taras. "Go, and the Almighty speed you. It is a solace to my soul that some few honest men will cleave to me, knowing the sacredness of our common duty."

These words rose from the depth of his heart! and indeed, he needed some comfort--something to cling to--lest he should break down and fail. He had informed his men on returning from the hamlet of Magura what answer he had given to the messengers of the Board; but what a wrench it had been to his dearest affections, and the sore cost of his final parting from wife and child, they never learned from his lips.

As compared with this deepest sorrow, no other trouble befalling the unhappy man might be thought to affect him, yet his burden seemed to be added to daily; and in spite of the honest desire to avoid all contention, in spite of the real friendship Hilarion entertained for him, there were constant bickerings between his own followers and the clansmen. It was Nashko especially, who, on account of his faith, appeared to be a convenient b.u.t.t for the mockery of the Huzuls. Now Taras could not allow this to continue, if only for this reason: the Jew had acquitted himself splendidly, fully justifying the confidence reported in him, and would, in any future enterprise, naturally have to retain his position of a leader; so the Huzuls must be taught to respect him, and Taras begged Hilarion to explain to his people that a man should not be derided for worshipping the Almighty in one way and not in another.

The patriarch fixed his eyes on the ground, keeping a long silence, as was his wont before answering, and when he began to speak he appeared to have forgotten the matter in hand. "Taras," he said, "have you ever ridden an ox?" and receiving a rather surprised "No" in return, he said, with a half smile, "Well, neither have I, and I don't know that any one else ever did. But why not? Might there not be found an animal among the species, well-grown and nimble enough to serve as a mount? In fact, I should say it is quite possible. At the same time, neither you nor I ever thought of trying it. And why? simply because, for a fact, G.o.d who made the ox, did not intend it for a steed, and because every man who used an ox for such a purpose against its nature would look a fine fool on its back. You will allow that?"

"I daresay, but I don't admit the simile; a Jew is as good a man as you or I."