"Taras!" exclaimed the lawyer, and the governor, bursting from his seat, stood still a moment, paralysed with the discovery; but then he flew to the window, flinging open the sash, and sent one terrified cry after another into the street below.

Taras never moved. "Do not be frightened," he said, sadly. "Look here, I am quite unarmed, and have come with peaceful intentions."

But the sentry outside and some of the clerks yet at work had heard the alarm; a.s.sistance already was pressing in at the door.

"Bind him!" cried the governor. And, nothing loth, the men clutched the prisoner.

But Starkowski interfered. "Stop!" he said. "You are five against one, and you see he offers no resistance." He walked up to Taras and looked him in the face. "You have not come with any evil intention?"

"No, sir."

Starkowski seemed quite satisfied; turning to the governor, "Leave your men in the room," he said, "but there is no need to bind him, I'll go bail."

But the poor governor was not so easily quieted, and his voice positively shook when he addressed the man of whom all the district had stood in mortal fear these months past. "Step closer," he said, "we are ready to hear you."

And Taras came nearer, looking pale and wan, a stricken figure, resting his worn frame against the table. "I have come to give myself up," he said, "and I pray to be dealt with according to my deserts."

"And where are your people?"

"I have disbanded them; there is no fear of their committing further violence."

"_Where_ are they?"

"They have gone different ways; but I have not come to betray them, and shall not do so. Concerning myself I will answer any question, and that must suffice. But before interrogating me, please have a clerk here to write it all down, for I should like those at Vienna to have the truth in my own words. I would especially wish the Emperor to know it, and his kind uncle, Ludwig."

The governor was going to retort sharply, but he restrained himself; the man after all had not desired anything improper. But the shock had been too great to enable him to open proceedings on the spot. "You will be interrogated to-morrow morning," he said, "and, whatever your misdeeds, it shall be set over against them that you have given yourself up of your own free will. I will not have you put in irons, and no one shall dare to insult you; but I shall have you well guarded."

"Do whatever the law requires," replied Taras. "But there is no fear of my escaping again, even if never a door were locked upon me. It is my conscience which brought me hither, and it will keep me here. Indeed, if any one attempted to set me free against my will, I should oppose him as an enemy."

The governor had nothing more to say, beyond ordering the prisoner's removal to the city gaol. But Taras looked at him. "There is yet one thing," and his voice quivered; "may I speak to this gentleman--it is something I have deeply at heart."

The governor nodded a.s.sent, and Starkowski went up to the prisoner.

"Ah, sir," said Taras, "I pray you not to believe that after all I turned a robber and murderer! I daresay you heard that I have had Zukowski killed, the poor old baron at Borsowka. I have; but I have been grievously deceived by evil men, on whose honesty I relied. I was fully persuaded I had judged righteously in this case also. I appeal to you--you know that I never yet told a lie--will you believe me?"

"I will--I do," said the lawyer, holding out his hand.

But Taras did not take it, there was a strange agitation in his face, he shook, and before the lawyer could prevent it, he had fallen on his knees, covering Starkowski's hand with kisses and tears. "Ah, sir," he sobbed, "this is the most merciful word you have spoken in your life!"

He rose and followed his keepers.

An hour later special messengers were speeding in all directions to announce to the magistrates and military authorities that the great trouble was at an end, that the avenger was in safe keeping of his own free will. At Colomea itself the news was flying from house to house, being received everywhere with exultant satisfaction. Two men only, whose interest in Taras's fate, because a personal one, was of the liveliest, were rather aghast at the news, calling their mortal enemy a fool for his pains, because he had put his head into the noose.

One of these worthies was Mr. Ladislas Kap.r.o.nski, who had been obliged after all to return from Lemberg, not of his own choice, but because of the importunity of his immediate superiors, which left but two ways open to him, either to accept their pressing invitation or to quit the service. So he had arrived, hoping to escape with a sharp reproof; but the very first meeting of the Board showed he was not likely to be dealt with in a spirit of leniency, the district governor being especially vicious in the virtuous Kap.r.o.nski's opinion. Nevertheless, he clang to his hope, giving the lie unblushingly to all accusations, since the one witness to be dreaded, even Taras, could not so easily be confronted with him; and who else should know whether he had perverted his message or not? So he carried his head high, and his collapse was sad to behold when, at a late hour that evening, the news reached him, "Taras is in safe keeping!" He jumped from his seat as though an adder had stung him; but, alas! there was no use in his rushing abroad to inquire whether it could really be true, since the strange rudeness--or, perhaps, deafness only--of his closer acquaintances had appeared of late to affect most people at Colomea, and now Kap.r.o.nski in addressing any honest citizen could never be sure of a hearing! So he did not go forth from his chamber, but fell to chewing the bitter cud of retribution, listening intently for what terrible affirmation might come flying in to him through his open windows from the excited streets. The news plainly was a fact!

But if his cogitations were misery, what then must be said of that other one who deprecated Taras's act of surrender, Mr. Wenceslas Hajek, the ex-mandatar of Zulawce? This gentleman quite lately, at the invitation of two constables, had exchanged his princely residence at the castle of Drinkowce for the more modest abode of a prison cell, and this quite in spite of--or, in fact, rather because of--his sudden desire for a change of air in distant parts. It had transpired that he was quietly on to Paris. He had been admitted to bail, when proceedings were commenced against him on account of the discovered perjury, and the constables caught him in the very act of strapping his travelling bag. He was naturally annoyed at being thus overreached; but the virtuous Wanda, who had not intended to accompany him on his travels, most heroically witnessed his discomfiture, watching his being carried off with truly stoical calmness--she might even have been a Spartan matron! "Good riddance," she said quietly, "if they would but keep you in prison; it's the one place for you!" Whereupon he, gathering together the shreds of masculine courage, retorted: "h.e.l.l itself would be delightful if I had a chance of going thither without you!" from which amiable pa.s.sage of arms the reader may infer that this marriage, founded on a love just about equalled by the mutual respect of the contracting couple, had turned out as happily as might have been foreseen, the actual result being that Herr Bogdan von Antoniewicz even now was taking measures to bring his daughter's case into the divorce court. But Mr. Hajek, who, it will be remembered, had prepared against such a contingency, felt no sorrows on this head; and indeed a husband blessed with a wife of the Countess Wanda's description might be tolerably certain that any inquiry into her character would bring to light ample mitigation of any blots in his. But if his domestic concerns sat easy on him, all the greater was his anxiety concerning that other trial, since there was no saying where a close inquiry might not land him, especially as his under-steward, Boleslaw Stipinski, had been so very foolish as to allow himself to be caught. Still, while Boleslaw had a tongue left wherewith to deny all charges as unblushingly as Hajek himself, the mandatar need not give himself up for lost--not while the only man who could witness to most of his crimes was far away, and not likely to be got hold of. What, then, must have been the feelings of the brazen-faced prisoner that evening when a call from the echoing corridor resounded in his cell, and he understood the words: "Look sharp, boys, they are bringing the avenger!"

It was the chief warder calling upon his fellow gaolers. There was a running to and fro and a confusion of voices, followed presently by the usual silence of the place. And when the death-like stillness had again settled down the wretched man tried to persuade himself that he had been dreaming; but the early morning dispelled this delusion, his inquiry eliciting a gruff reply from the warder going his rounds.

"Taras? Yes, he is on this very floor, more's the pity you cannot communicate with him," said the surly attendant, never perceiving the irony of his speech.

Early in the forenoon the new prisoner was brought to his preliminary examination, Herr von Bauer conducting it in person; and in accordance with his stated intention Taras yielded the fullest information concerning himself and his late doings, but refused persistently whatever might tend to incriminate his followers. He readily mentioned those who had led him into the murder at Borsowka; but not a fact, not a name besides, was to be got out of him. Nor could he be brought to give the slightest clue towards inculpating such of the peasants as had a.s.sisted his work by their contributions for the maintenance of his men. "They have aided and abetted a criminal course," he said; "but they did it with the best of intentions for the love of their suffering neighbours, and believing it to be the will of G.o.d."

"It might be better for you to give their names," said the governor, not unkindly, "for if you do not, how is it to be proved that you are speaking the truth? These contributions might be a myth, and you be taken for a common bandit after all, who committed murder for the sake of gain. Are you prepared to face this?"

"If the Almighty will thus punish me, I shall bear it," said he, sadly.

"He knows I have spoken the truth."

The trial concluded with those questions laid as a duty upon the judge, even with the worst of criminals, ever since the great Empress left her womanly influence upon the Austrian law. "Do you desire spiritual a.s.sistance?" inquired the governor.

"Not now," said Taras; "I need no one to come between me and the Almighty. When death is at hand I will thankfully receive the holy sacrament, and I would ask you then to send for the parish priest of Zulawce, Father Leo, who on Palm Sunday gave me his promise to come to me whenever I should need him. He will do so."

"And have you any message to be transmitted to your wife?"

The extreme pallor of his face yielded to a flush which rose to the very roots of his hair. "No," he said faintly. "My wife was right in saying I had forfeited my claims on her and the children. It were sheer goodness and mercy on her part to remember me now. But since it is so, I must not ask for it; I can only wait."

But waiting for the prompting of her love seemed vain. Throughout the dreary tune of the legal proceedings, which lasted nearly four months, neither the pope nor a.n.u.sia visited the prisoner. The only human being who during all this sad time requested permission for occasional intercourse with the accused was Dr. Starkowski, who could not visit him in his capacity as legal defender till after the protracted inquiry, but prayed to be admitted as a friend. And he was allowed to see the prisoner occasionally in the presence of the chief warder, finding the unhappy man, for whom he had a truehearted sympathy, strangely quiet. "I have nothing to complain of," Taras would say; "I could not have expected anything else. And, calling to mind the terrible hour when that girl in her agony of remorse confessed to me how I had been deceived, this present time seems happiness in comparison. I am bearing the just punishment for my deeds even on this side of the grave--it is all I must ask for at the hand of man."

"All?" repeated the lawyer, with a peculiar stress on the word, and it seemed to him a very duty of Christian charity to offer to the unhappy man his willingness to plead with a.n.u.sia. "It will be no trouble," he added, rather awkwardly; "I have business at Zulawce, and might as well go and see her."

"I pray you not to do so," said Taras, earnestly. "It would be a bitter trial to her to have to speak about me to a stranger, and I have brought on her so much suffering already that it is not for me to add to it."

Starkowski nevertheless endeavoured to mediate, but in vain. Father Leo himself dissuaded him from his well-meant purpose. "Believe me, sir,"

said the honest priest, sadly, "there is nothing to be done. If human pleading availed anything, my entreaty would have done so! But no prayer and no exhortation will bend the iron purpose of that woman.

This is the reason why I have refrained hitherto from going to Colomea: I have not the heart to meet him with no better news than this."

"Well, perhaps a stranger may be more successful," said Starkowski, and went over to Taras's farm. But he was met in the yard by Halko, with a message from his mistress. She did not desire to see him, the young man said wistfully, unless he were sent on business of the trial.

Towards the close of January, 1840, the inquiry was concluded; but, after all, not much more had come to light than had been known with more or less of exactness before. And if, on the one hand, it was beyond a doubt that Taras was guilty of the death of a great number of men, having brought loss and suffering to others, so also it proved a matter of certainty that in every case he had granted to the victim a kind of judicial inquiry, punishing them upon conviction. Also there was a considerable amount of actual evidence in his favour, Baron Zborowski, of Hankowce, especially doing his utmost in his behalf. On the whole a fairly just estimate of the man's activity during those seven months of the reign of terror in the land had been arrived at, but not a clue had been obtained concerning his fellows and helpers, who appeared simply to have vanished. One of his late followers only was caught--Karol WyG.o.da, whose whereabouts Taras himself had suggested. This wretch denied the charge persistently, until confronted with his former hetman, a look of whose eye sufficed to crush the man, whereupon he made a full confession, including the crime he had instigated at Borsowka.

But not only in this case was it apparent that Taras had in no wise lost his strange power over men; none of the perjured witnesses of Zulawce could hold out against him at the bar. But the most flagrant proof of the awe he still inspired, perhaps, was this, that Mr. Hajek, on the mere announcement of the governor's "I shall confront you with Taras to-morrow," fainted outright, and upon recovering his senses declared himself ready to confess on the spot. No doubt he acted from the consciousness that conviction was unavoidable, and that it would be useless to hara.s.s his feelings by so painful an interview.

Kap.r.o.nski, on the contrary, felt that all his future career depended on the ordeal of a meeting with Taras, and, fortifying his flunkey spirit with this consideration, he tried hard to strike terror into the soul of the convicted bandit; but he collapsed woefully, and blow upon blow the righteous wrath of Taras came down upon his head. It was a strange sight these two--the one covered with the blood of his fellows, the other legally guilty at worst of a breach of discipline--but no one could doubt for a moment which of them was the n.o.bler and better man.

On the last day of the inquiry the governor put the question to Taras who should be his advocate.

"Ah!" said Taras, "am I permitted to choose? I would have Dr.

Starkowski in that case, for he will do his best for me."

"Certainly," replied the governor, continuing with some surprise; "have not you a.s.sured me again and again you had done with life? Yet you seem to rest confidence in the success of your advocate."

"Oh," returned Taras, "I never doubted the justice of my having to die; that is settled, and I would not have him or any one else endeavour to get me off. But there is another important matter in which I sorely need counsel."

What this might be Starkowski learned on his first professional visit to the prisoner. "They will not believe me," said Taras sadly; "they doubt the truth of my having maintained the band honestly, partly out of my own means, partly with the freewill contributions of well-meaning folks. And yet I cannot name any of those who helped me, for fear of their having to suffer for it. Is there no help, but that the suspicion most rest on me and mine, that I committed murder for vulgar gain's sake?"

The lawyer endeavoured to comfort him, saying he hoped to dispel this charge, proving it at variance with the character of his client, which was plainly apparent in the evidence. "But let us speak of something else now," he added, "which is more important--your own fate."

"Why, that is settled," replied Taras, quietly; "I have shed blood and must atone for it with my own. Please do not try to overthrow that!"

"Now, listen to me," said the lawyer, "there is such a thing as common sense. You have given yourself up of your own free will to satisfy justice; this is enough for your conscience, and it would be simply wicked in you to clamour to be hanged. Try to judge calmly in this respect. Looking at facts, of course I cannot doubt that the jury will find you guilty, because the law must have its course, but I have hopes that the Emperor may pardon you. There are strong reasons for a recommendation to mercy. Moreover, it is plain that the old Archduke Ludwig is interested in you, and he will not fail to plead in your favour."