For the Right Part 46

"We have come to tell you," the strong voice of Taras made answer. "I am the avenger."

There was a cry in response, and a sound as of breaking gla.s.s; sudden darkness enveloped the scene, for the lamp had fallen from the trembling hands. But power to attempt an escape seemed wanting. And when Taras, torch in hand, reached the upper landing, he found the aged n.o.bleman leaning against his open bedroom door, simply petrified with dismay.

Lazarko, at a sign of the captain's, pushed him back into the room. It was a s.p.a.cious chamber, but poorly furnished, and serving evidently as a library besides, for the walls all round were covered with bookshelves, and a large table in the middle was littered with volumes and papers. The whole aspect of the room seemed to deny that it was inhabited by a man of low pursuits. And so did the baron's own appearance. Taras looked at him surprised, for the man he had come to judge was bowed with age, and of a venerable countenance. But for a moment only he hesitated, his inflexible sternness returning. He knew that appearances were deceptive: did not that monster at Kossowince gaze at him like an angel of light?

"I have come to judge you," said Taras, austerely. "You have wronged your peasants with unheard-of oppression."

"I?" groaned the poor old man, sinking into a chair. "By the blessed Lord and His saints, some one must have lied to you!"

"Do not call upon the holy names!" returned Taras, with lowering brow.

"I am prepared to hear you deny the charge, but witnesses are at hand.

Is it true, or not, that you have acted like a tyrant by your people, robbing and wronging them fearfully?"

"I call G.o.d to witness that this is false!" cried Zukowski, solemnly, lifting his hand. "Ask the judge, he will tell you; his name his Hara.s.sim Perko, and his is the first house this side of the village. He can be here within an hour if you send for him."

"He is nearer than you suppose," said Taras, turning to the door; and the elder of his two guides entered. "Here he is," continued Taras, "do you call upon him as a witness?"

"This is not the judge of Borsowka," exclaimed the baron, and rose to his feet. "Why this is Dimitri Buliga, an old good-for-nothing whom no one respects here, and he left the village some time ago."

These words were spoken with such a show of simple truth and honest indignation that Taras looked at the peasant doubtfully. But the man never winced; answering the charge with a smile almost. "I must say, Baron, this beats all we ever knew of you as a liar! It is natural that you should seek for a loop-hole, but I suppose I know that I am I! This is preposterous ... After this it will seem useless, hetman, to ask this wretch another question. Let that man of yours speak for my ident.i.ty whom you sent to us, he knows me--that is one comfort."

And Karol WyG.o.da cried out: "Yes, hetman, certainly, I have known him these twenty years; his name his Hara.s.sim Perko, and he is the judge of this village."

"It is false," groaned the baron, and, stepping closer, he looked into WyG.o.da's face. "You also seem known to me ... Yes, I remember--your Christian, name is Karol, and you were in my service as a farm labourer years ago. I remember you because you are the only man I ever had to hand over to the law."

Karol listened with an unperturbed air, looking at the baron with an amused sort of wonder, as one might examine a natural curiosity; and, turning to the hetman, he said: "There now, this is as fine a proof as we could expect of this man's capacity of wronging a poor fellow. I daresay he may remember having seen me since I lived in the village; but I never set foot on his property, and still less did I give him any chance of handing me over to the law, as he says."

"Have you no fear of G.o.d, man?" broke in the baron. "I----"

"Stop," said Taras; "answer me one more question. Do you think that your own servants are likely to betray you, or tell a lie in order to have you killed?"

"G.o.d forbid!" exclaimed the baron, eagerly. "Honest old Stephen, I fear, cannot have returned, but my coachman sleeps in the house, and he can tell you that this man is not Hara.s.sim, the judge."

"Have him in," ordered Taras, and the coachman appeared; his hands had been tied on his back, he was pale as death, and shook from head to foot.

"You have nothing to fear," said Taras; "we only want you to tell the truth; but woe to you if you prevaricate. Who is this man?"

"Hara.s.sim Perko, the judge," stammered the fellow.

"Peter!" cried the baron, "you have lost your senses. Why, you know the judge as well as I do."

"This is sufficient," said Taras. "Be silent now, till I require you to speak. Say, judge, has this man taken unlawful possession of part of the common field?"

"He has," replied the man, adding a minute statement.

"What have you to say to this, Baron?" inquired Taras, of the n.o.bleman, when the accuser had finished.

"It is false," reiterated Zukowski--"a whole web of falsehood. I have told you that this man is not the judge, but that good-for-nothing Dimitri. If you, indeed, are bent on justice, Taras, I pray you send to the village for the real judge. Do not soil your hands with innocent blood."

"It is you that are bent on lying," said Taras, scornfully. "Other scoundrels have endeavoured to deceive me, and to stay me in the performance of my sacred duty; but a man of such brazen face I have never yet set eyes upon. It is a pity that you seem willing to die as you have lived.... But we have yet other witnesses--bring them in."

The peasant Wa.s.silj entered, followed by the reluctant girl; her father had almost to drag her in.

"Do you know these two?" said Taras.

"The man is a stranger to me," replied the baron, unhesitatingly; "I have never set eyes on him. But that girl was in my house this morning, with a message from my poor Stephen's dying sister, entreating him to come.... Taras!" he added, excitedly; "now I see all this wretched plot. They have made up this tale of the dying sister to decoy my good old Stephen away, who would rather have died than betray me, and I suppose they have bribed my coachman. They are deceiving you, so that you should order me to be murdered!"

"This is cleverly put together," said Taras, coldly, "it is lamentable, indeed, that, gifted as you seem to be, you did not make better use of your life; it might have saved you from this hour. Answer me, Marinia, as in the presence of G.o.d Almighty. Is it true that you were in this house this morning for the first time in your life?"

"No!" she faltered.

"But you were here three weeks ago when this wretch wronged you?"

"Yes!"

"How dare you!" cried the baron, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "Oh, G.o.d! how should I--look at my grey hairs, man!"

"Silence!" returned Taras. "What have you to say, Peter--does this girl speak the truth?"

"She does--old Stephen told me."

"The Lord have mercy on me!" groaned the doomed man. "Taras, have pity on my age. I have but little money in the house, but what there is, take it all--only spare me!"

"I am not a robber, but an instrument of G.o.d's justice," replied Taras, solemnly. "It is very evident that you have deserved death amply. If you would recommend your soul to the Judge above, I will give you ten minutes."

"Spare me, for mercy's sake! Call any of the peasants, there is not a man in the village but would stand by me."

"We have had sufficient witness. Say your prayers."

"a.s.sa.s.sin!" cried the aged baron, and with the strength of despair he flew at Taras. But a bullet from Lazarko's pistol laid him dead at their feet.

The girl shrieked and fainted, her father carrying her from the room.

The others remained till they had found the cash-box. It contained, as the baron had said, but a moderate sum.

Taras avoided touching the money. "Take it," he said to the judge, "and divide it justly among those that have suffered most."

Before the day broke the manor house of Borsowka lay wrapped in silence as before, and utterly lonely, for Peter the coachman had gone off with the two villagers, Taras and his little band speeding back to the mountains.

The following day, after a sharp ride, they reached the low-lying, water-intersected waste between Kotzman and Zastawna, where they resolved to halt till the evening. The place being within easy distance of Karol WyG.o.da's home, the latter begged to be allowed to look up his relations. "I have no objection," said Taras, "only be careful not to fall in with any traitors. I shall expect you back by sundown."

Karol promised and went.

But he did not return. Taras, growing anxious, kept waiting for him, gazing into the deepening night, but not a sound broke on the stillness.

"We had better start without him," said Nashko, at last. "Either he has been caught, and in that case it were folly for us to tarry; or else he has made up his mind to remain with his own people, in which case we cannot force him to come back to us."

"I cannot believe that," said Taras; "for he has ever proved himself a trustworthy man; he would certainly have told me if he had any idea of leaving us. And I cannot bear to think that the faithful soul has come to grief. Some accident may have detained him; indeed, I feel sure he will return. Let us wait till midnight, at least."

But midnight came and no Karol. With a troubled heart Taras at last gave orders to mount.