THE AVENGER TO THE RESCUE.
The terrible night was over, the garrison had returned; but an agony of
fear was uppermost in the district town. What Taras had dared seemed
well-nigh incredible, and greater than the horror of what was past was
the direful apprehension of what the future might bring. He might
return any night; nay, in broad daylight even.
Thoughts like these also occupied the magistrates, who held a special
meeting the following morning at the District Board office. The captain
of the hussars, and one or two other officers had been invited to
attend, but they had no comfort to offer; it seemed nothing short of a
miracle that the raid should have succeeded, and more incomprehensible
still that the band should have made good its retreat. As to its
numbers, opinions differed greatly. The commotion raised by their
flying entrance into the town, and the rapidity with which they had
overpowered the soldiers, tended naturally to an over-estimation of
their strength. There was one witness, however, who swore that Taras
had fully a thousand men under his command. "A thousand, I tell you,
for a certainty, on the honour of a nobleman!" It was Thaddeus de
Bazanski who averred this. For having got over his fright, the
experience he had undergone appeared to him rather lucky than
otherwise. And well it might, considering the bottles of fine Moldavian
the tale would be worth, not to mention the halo of importance it cast
around him!
"A thousand men, I say, at the very least," he reiterated. "You will
believe an old officer, who for years has ridden at the head of a
regiment, and allow his fitness for estimating numbers. But concerning
this avenger, if I may judge by my own experience, I should say a manly
denunciation would suffice to cow him. If you show pluck, he knocks
under--he did so, at least, with me. 'Where is the mandatar?' he
stormed, as we met. 'Taras,' said I, undaunted, 'I am a guest under
this roof, and a nobleman born. I am not going to turn informer!' I
said this quietly, with all the sang-froid I am in the habit of
preserving in a desperate situation, and, for the matter of that, I
have known worse dangers in my time. As for him--well he bit his lip,
and, turning on his heel, said to his men, 'Comrades, it is no use to
think of intimidating an officer of such standing----'"
But the Board never learned what further the frightened Taras had to
say concerning that officer, for a loud tumult was rising in the
market-place, coming nearer and nearer. The magistrates jumped from
their seats, crowding the windows, and an unlooked-for spectacle met
their eyes below. In the centre of a moving crowd there appeared an
open car, and upon it the lost Kapronski. He seemed unhurt, and even in
good spirits, for he kept smiling to the right and to the left in
acknowledgment of the people's salutation; but he waved his hands only,
never touching his travelling cap, which was pulled low over his ears.
The excitement of the Board was such that it passed unnoticed when the
commissioner did not even bare his head on entering their presence.
They grew aware of it only when, having bowed low, he began with
somewhat uncertain accents: "I venture to crave permission of the
worshipful Board to keep my head covered. I am anxious to save your
feelings, for I--I got wounded--a bad cut."
"Wounded!" cried the old town surgeon, who served on the Board, and
unable to restrain his professional eagerness, he caught at the cap.
But the sight of Kapronski, minus his head-gear, was so tragi-comical
that, with all their anxieties, the magistrates could not but smile.
"What on earth is the meaning of this," cried the district governor.
"It is the punishment which, among the Huzuls, is reserved for
cowards," Mr. Wroblewski, the secretary of the Board, hastened to
explain.
Kapronski rewarded him with a vicious glance. "The secretary speaks the
truth," said he, putting on a bold front; "but it is not more than is
reserved for himself and all this worshipful Board if you have the
misfortune of falling into Taras's hands. He has inflicted this infamy
on me for no other reason but that I did my duty in carrying out your
orders."
The smiles had vanished. "Tell us all about it," cried the magistrates,
eagerly.
The commissioner bowed, and began with a minute description of how he
was carried to the Crystal Springs, and of what he saw there.
"How many men should you say he has with him?" interrupted the captain
of the hussars, who naturally considered this the most important point.
"Well, I should say about a thousand," replied the commissioner,
unblushingly.
"Then this seems to be a fact," murmured the captain, with evident
concern; "that looks bad!"
"I have not a doubt," Kapronski continued, "that his one reason for
waylaying me was his desire to make an example, just to show what
awaited any servant of the law who dared lift a finger against him. In
fact, he was going to hang me, and said so plainly. But, fortunately, I
had prepared an answer. 'So you may,' I said, 'if you dare, for I am
one against your thousand. But know that if you touch me your wife and
your children will rue it.'"
"Why, that was illegal," broke in the district governor. "I wonder what
paragraph of the penal code warrants this!"
Kapronski bowed deeply. He had expected this objection, and, indeed,
had shaped his story so far with the one intention of bringing his
dastardly falsehood, which had caused him plenty of trouble already, in
the best possible guise to the knowledge of his superiors. "Illegal,"
he replied, humbly, "no doubt; but I venture to think I was justified
by the extremity of the situation." A murmur, not altogether of
disapproval, went round the Board, and even the district governor could
only shake his old head, grumbling to himself as the commissioner
continued.
"The words I had spoken produced an immediate effect. Taras looked
concerned. 'Stuff!' he said, pretending to be careless; 'it is no use
trying to frighten me with that sort of thing; _your_ hands are bound
by the law,' However, he gave up the idea of hanging me, saying he
would use me as his messenger instead. Two things he charged me to
bring to your knowledge, most worshipful governor of this district;
firstly, that he expects you on the spot to withdraw the soldiers from
the parishes of Zablotow and Zulawce, and to forbear instituting
against him any action whatsoever. And he wishes you to understand that
you are not to dream of stopping his intentions by military
interference."
"Well, I never!" cried the governor.
"What impudence!" echoed the Board.
"Secondly, that within four-and-twenty hours you are to deliver up the
mandatar to his men at that particular spot where the Pruth is fordable
between Zulawce and Debeslawce. He will let you know who else is to be
given up to him."
The Board sat mute with indignant consternation. "And suppose I don't?"
gasped the governor.
"In that case," returned Kapronski, with his deepest bow, "in that
case--I can hardly frame my lips to the rest of his message, but he
said: 'Tell him, if he does not comply, I shall set fire to the
district town and give it up to my men to plunder; and the magistrates,
nay, every servant of the law, shall be hanged on these trees of
ours--the governor first and foremost. I look upon them as a set of
infamous cowards, and to show them how we deal with such, I'll visit on
your head the ignominy which I consider is theirs.' And having treated
me as you see, he had me put down by the river that I might find my way
back as best I could."
A series of groans went round the room, Captain Mihaly recovering
himself first. "Well, gentlemen, it's no use to hang our heads," he
cried. "Orders for reinforcements must be despatched at once."
"Certainly," assented the burgomaster, "it is best to declare war
against this man on the spot. But," he added cautiously, "I suppose the
town itself is sufficiently protected by the garrison; you, captain, I
daresay, will guarantee its safety?"
"We shall fight to the last man if need be," replied the gallant
soldier; "but I can guarantee nothing beyond. If this bandit has really
a thousand cut-throats to do his bidding, my squadron and the handful
of infantry stationed here cannot make any stand against him."
The old man fell back in his chair white as death. "Then," he groaned,
"the mandatar must leave this town at once, even if we must get rid of
him by force; and it might be well to let it be known as widely as
possible, perhaps send a messenger to Taras."
But the brave governor by this time had recovered himself. Rising, he
put forth his hand, as if to silence the burgomaster. "This shall not
be while I live," he said earnestly. "It is indeed a terrible matter we
have to face, but let us face it like men; let us rather die than act
meanly--let no act of ours cast a slur upon the dignity of legal
justice! This Mr. Wenceslas Hajek has done nothing, so far as I am
aware, to justify us in refusing him protection; let him stay here as
long as he pleases. If he will leave us of his own accord, all the
better; but if he chooses to stay, beware of annoying him."
"Well, and will you undertake the fearful responsibility of it all?"
cried the burgomaster, excitedly.
"I will," said the governor, solemnly; "I will be answerable both to
the Emperor and to God."
"But I daresay it would need only a hint to Hajek," interposed the
captain. "I know what stuff the man is made of. If he is told that all
of us are in danger of our lives here, he'll be ready to leave us with
post-horses even."
"Well, and where is he to be found, if that is the case?" inquired the
governor, open to this reasoning.
"I can tell you," cried Dr. Starkowski, "in no less a place than the
town gaol. On my way hither I was told so by the chief constable.
Hajek, it appears, came to him at daybreak this morning, imploring him
to have him shut up, since prison was the only place of safety. He is
quite beside himself with terror, I hear--an object to behold."
"Well, the mandatar may consider his movements by and by," said the
governor. "Our chief care for the present is the question of
reinforcements, as the captain has pointed out. And considering the
urgency of the case, I will forthwith despatch letters to the nearest
military stations at Stanislaw and Czernowitz. And I will also have
matters reported to the Provincial governor--I mean I will not do so by
writing only, but will despatch one of the commissioners to Lemberg, to
add every information by word of mouth."
At which Kapronski gave a jerk, craning his neck eagerly.
"Wait till you are asked!" cried the irritated governor. "On
consideration I have hardly any choice but to send you! It will be as
well to get rid of that cropped head of yours for a while--the people
here are frightened enough already, without keeping before their eyes
such a lively reminder of Taras's visit as you present. Besides, I
daresay you will prove an interesting sight to the gentlemen at
Lemberg. I shall expect you to be ready within half-an-hour."
Kapronski bowed as deeply as before, hardly knowing how to hide his
satisfaction. He had succeeded in making his own confession of the
falsehood he had been guilty of; and had not only, as he believed,
revenged himself on Taras, but on his colleagues as well. He had paid
them out, he thought, for the slights with which they were apt to treat
him, and it delighted him to see them all afraid for their lives.
Moreover, his falsified report resulted in one thing his cowardly soul
approved of--the prospect of military reinforcement--for he could not
have foreseen his being sent away from the menaced city. But since the
governor's decision now promised to place him personally out of danger,
a really malicious thought presented itself to his dastardly mind--he
remembered what Taras actually _did_ say. "Your worship," he began, and
his voice quivered with the consciousness of his meanness. "I venture
to submit ... my own impression ... fully alive to the importance of
the case...."
"Well, and what have you to say?"
"Only just this. Would it not be well to anticipate any trouble this
bandit is likely to give; to make it impossible, and, perchance, even
force him to sue for peace? I know how easily he is cowed...."
"It would seem so," cried the burgomaster; "at least, he has thus been
described to us already."
"Yes, and by whom?" growled the governor, with a contemptuous glance at
the victor of Ostrolenka, who, after having given his evidence, had
retired to the wall, where he still stood, grinning and smirking. "What
is it you were going to say, Mr. Commissioner?"
"Only this, your worship. I have stated how I was able to save my life
from the hands of this man. Now, supposing this most honourable Board
could see its way, in consideration of the imminent danger wherewith
the town is threatened, to issue an order for the arrest of the wife
and children...."
"We might, indeed, be driven to it," said the burgomaster, half under
his breath.
"What!" roared the governor, white and trembling with passion. "Oh, the
shameful disgrace, that an official of this district dares make such a
proposal! Coward, that you are!"
Kapronski felt the withering contempt, and shrunk back. "I meant it for
the best," he stammered, "and I am sure I will not breathe a word of it
at Lemberg if it is disapproved of."
"You are likely to be sent now!" muttered the governor, pacing the room
furiously. "Is this the man to be sent in the present emergency, when
so much----" The rest was lost in an angry mumbling. The man's whole
nature seemed in an uproar. At last he subsided, and, standing still
before the frightened Kapronski, he said, "You shall go; but I shall
take care that the letter you carry be sufficiently explicit. You may
come for it in an hour."
The commissioner heaved a breath of relief, and turned to go, but not
without experiencing another shock, for the governor called after him,
"Stop a moment; if the mandatar chooses to leave you might as well
travel together. I shall allow you a couple of constables."
Kapronski stood rooted to the ground, his eyes starting with terror.
If he had been offered old Death itself as a travelling companion he
could not have trembled more at the prospect. "And what if we are
attacked?--Taras----" he groaned.
"In that case you would be lost either way;" with which comfort the
wretched man had to be satisfied. The governor now addressed himself to
Starkowski, begging him to visit Hajek in his voluntary confinement. "I
know I can trust you with this delicate business," he said; "you will
represent matters correctly to him, without exercising any pressure."
The lawyer agreed readily, and went on his errand at once. But the
abject creature lying on a couch in a private apartment in the city
gaol did not strike him as likely to come to any resolve. He was
positively delirious with fear, and the warder had not a little trouble
to keep him quiet.
So after all Mr. Kapronski started on his journey without the mandatar;
not, however, without a numerous retinue. For no sooner had it become
known that Captain Mihaly had not considered it possible to guarantee
the safety of the town, than every citizen that had a chance of horses
prepared for flight. And those who could not get away themselves were
anxious to send, at least, wife and child and the best of their
movables out of the town, which seemed doomed. The streets for some
hours presented a picture of distress and unspeakable confusion, since
the poor folk were hard driven for time if they wished to set out with
the commissioner and his escort. At noon the sorrowful procession was
ready to start, in the very centre of them all the commissioner on his
car; but instead of two constables there were twenty of the hussars,
which escort the governor had been prevailed upon to grant upon the
sore entreaties of the fugitives.
But this was the only concession he made to the craven fear that had
possessed the populace. Herr von Bauer proved in those days that,
with all his comical weaknesses, he was a man indeed. He called
together the citizens, suggesting that they should organise themselves
into a body of special constables for the safety of the town. But that
chicken-hearted population met his well-meant proposal with positive
indignation. "We are not going to be brought to ruin," they cried. "We
shall endeavour to conciliate Taras if he returns; maybe he will be
satisfied with the heads of those who have offended him." Nay, worse
than this. "We are not going to be butchered for the sake of a
blackguard land-steward; if you do not rid the town of his presence we
shall do it ourselves, and so thoroughly, we warrant, as will please
even Taras." The district governor was by himself, facing the seething
crowd; but his reply was as plucky and curt as possible. "You idiots!
you cowards!" he cried; "I can't make men of you, of course, nor force
you to defend yourselves; but be sure of this, I'll have every man of
you shot that lifts a finger against the mandatar." In the
consternation which followed he walked away quietly. But the very next
hour showed that he was likely to be as good as his word, when, amid
the beating of drums and the pealing of bells, martial law was
proclaimed in the city and district of Colomea. The citizens were
informed that they must keep within doors, that every gathering of mobs
would be treated as open rebellion, and any attempt upon life or
property punished with the gallows. The worst was thus staved off, and
disorder within was not likely to join hands with any horrors from
without.
At the same time couriers were despatched in all directions, not merely
to the neighbouring military stations, but even to some of the larger
villages of the plain, where the peasantry, eight years before, when
the great Polish insurrection threatened to spread into Galicia, had
volunteered their services for the safety of the town. And at sundown
Herr von Bauer, worn out with the day's anxiety, had at least the
comfort of knowing that he had done what was possible for the averting
of trouble; if the night passed peaceably the town was saved.
And there was no disturbance, but the morning brought one batch of
ill-news after another. The messengers came flocking back from the
plain stating that the peasantry everywhere repudiated the idea of
yielding assistance. "We are not going to turn against our own flesh
and blood," they had said, "and we advise the men of the law to make
their peace with Taras, for he is just." And more, it seemed as if the
peasants round about, not satisfied with keeping neutral, were ready to
side openly with the avenger. Every hour swelled the reports coming in
from the mandatars, landlords, and parish priests of the district, all
concurring that the peasantry were at the highest pitch of excitement;
that the success which had accompanied Taras's first deed of vengeance
had roused the spirit of opposition everywhere, and that the worst
might happen unless Government carried matters with a high hand. But
the most appalling news was this, coming in about noon, that in the
past night the avenger had dealt justice elsewhere; that he had
appeared about midnight in the village of Zadubrowce, setting free a
number of peasants who were kept in gaol because of arrears of forced
labour; that he had called upon the mandatar of the place to answer for
his doings in the presence of all the people; and that after a careful
trial he had decided to let him off a disgraced man with his head
shorn, warning him at the same time that he would forfeit his life if
he continued oppressing the people. But strangely enough--so ran the
report--he gave the peasantry a similar warning, in case they should
attempt any plundering of the manor. But if this latter piece of
information contained any comfort, there was the fact to be set against
it that the village in question was far out in the plain, bordering
upon the Bukowina. It was beyond anything to be conceived that these
outlaws had dared the distance, there was not a shadow of an
explanation how they got thither, and no one knew whither they had
vanished. It seemed but poor consolation that by the evening a troop of
dragoons arrived from Stanislaw, especially as their captain brought
the information along with him that further reinforcements must not be
expected under a week. About midnight, however, the infantry returned
from Zulawce, Captain Stanczuk having led back his men on his own
responsibility, in consequence of what appeared to him certain
information of a meditated attack upon the district town. Now this
officer was a man whose judgment might be trusted, it being known that,
having grown up among them, he understood the peasantry; and when he
also reported an ominous excitement about the country, giving it as his
opinion that the danger was not to be trifled with, it was resolved to
keep together what forces so far were available--about five hundred men
in all--for the protection of the town itself, and to deal with the
disturbed state of the country only when further reinforcements could
be obtained.
April merged into May, but there was no further attack upon the town,
although nightly expected, and the remainder of the garrison at
Kossowince arrived safely at Colomea; but there was a constant feeling
of the proximity of Taras's band, and the reports pouring in proved
that this man, for good or for evil, swayed the minds of the peasantry
throughout that part of the province. For, incredible as it seemed, it
had to be accepted as a fact that Taras, whatever might be thought of
his 'judgments,' exercised his influence in a marked degree for actual
good. The governor, with a grim smile, had entered that account of
events at Zadubrowce along with the "charges against Taras and
followers"; but almost every day since had brought fresh proof that
Taras really had forbidden the peasantry under pain of death to have
recourse to plunder, or even to seek their rights for themselves, and,
more remarkable still, that he insisted on their yielding every just
tribute. And this information did not proceed from any of his
adherents, but from the mandatars, the landlords, and the parish
priests, who hated this "avenger" as their natural enemy, and would
have been only too glad to see him taken up as a malefactor. For if the
influence of this strangest of bandits for good could not be denied,
neither was there any gainsaying that he exercised it in a terrible
degree for ill almost daily. That steward of Kossowince had found some
companions in his grief, who with the loss of their hair had been
"disgraced" and obliged to make amends to the people they had wronged;
while two landlords of the plain, not far from Horodenko, had fared
worse: Taras had ordered them to be shot, and their dwellings levelled
with the ground. But the man whom these accounts might well have
dismayed first and foremost knew nothing about them. Wenceslas Hajek,
lying in a raging fever, was mercifully saved from the shock of such
news. Taras's "judgments," indeed, were appalling, and within three
weeks no less than ten distinct cases were registered against him. And
they resembled each other closely. He arrived suddenly with his band,
cut off every retreat, took up the accused, tried him, and if he denied
the charges, called witnesses, had him convicted, and the sentence was
carried out on the spot. It was a remarkable fact that he carried out
his judgments with the bullet only, none of his victims coming by their
death by means of the rope; another feature was that any money that was
found he invariably made over to the community for whose sake the deed
was done. In short the cases were so like each other, and followed one
another so rapidly, that the district governor quite got into a routine
of filing charges against Taras.
Not till the end of May was the pressure on the minds of the
citizens somewhat relieved. A battalion of infantry had been sent
from Stanislaw, a regiment of dragoons from the Bukowina, and a
regiment of hussars besides. With these troops there arrived also a
lieutenant-general to take the entire command, and he forthwith called
a council of war, to which, besides the military chiefs, were admitted
the district governor, the burgomaster, and Dr. Starkowski as legal
adviser.
Now while this council was sitting round the green baize table of the
district court, a special messenger arrived with a letter from
Hankowce, addressed to the Governor. "From Hankowce," exclaimed Herr
von Bauer dismayed, "alas, poor Zborowski!... but no, he can't be
killed," he corrected himself, "for it is his own handwriting!"
He tore open the missive, read it, and, pushing the letter from him, he
burst from his seat with a crimson countenance, striking both his fists
on the table.
"Gentlemen," he cried, "this is beyond anything ever heard of; enough
to madden the Chief Justice himself. There, read for yourselves, and
tell me if it is not simply maddening!"
The gentlemen made haste to comply, and what they read in that letter
certainly was startling. The lord of the manor of Hankowce, Baron
Alfred Zborowski, one of the most respected noblemen of the district,
had written to his friend, the governor, with all the haste of one
reporting a most unusual occurrence, for Starkowski had some trouble in
making out the shaky handwriting. The letter ran as follows:
"We have just been saved as by a miracle from almost certain death. You
know that I have never been a hard landlord; my peasants are kindly
treated, and there has never been a point of contention between us till
within these last weeks. But after the rising of Taras my people
appeared entirely changed. They no longer touched their caps to me
refused the labour they owed me, and there was a good deal of seditious
speaking and of getting drunk at the public-house. I did what I could
to prevent worse things, yielding one point and another, but to no
purpose. They grew only the more refractory, and it ended in their
sending a deputation to me, a lot of young fellows armed with scythes
and firelocks, demanding a loan of fifty florins. I refused it. They
returned in the evening, about double the number, all more or less in
drink, and not merely young men, but a great many of the older ones as
well. There seemed nothing left but to yield, for how could I oppose
them with a handful of retainers, and I dared not risk the safety of my
wife and children. So I paid them the money. They went off brawling,
spending it in drink forthwith. The day before yesterday they returned,
some of my most trusted peasants among them, grievously drunk. 'We want
one hundred florins of the money you have stolen from us, you robber,
you tyrant,' cried their spokesman, a certain labourer of the name of
Juzef Supan, 'pay it at once, or we shall call Taras.' 'Well, call
him,' I said. 'I know him, and he knows me, for he was in my service
twelve years ago; he knows I am no unjust man.' But they had only abuse
in return, concluding, 'We don't even want Taras, we can help
ourselves. Either you give us a hundred florins here on the spot or
we'll make you rue it!' What could I do? I paid the money and off they
went.
"My poor wife and I were left to consider the horrors of the situation.
There was little doubt of how it would end--they would return with
increased demands, or, more probably, would fall to plunder. Life
itself was in jeopardy, and no help to be had. Even flight was
impossible; for how could we risk it when rebellion is up everywhere?
We could only look at one another in mute despair. Some hours passed,
when suddenly my wife started from the couch on which she had buried
her tearful face, looking at me with luminous eyes, as though she had
had an inspiration. 'Husband!' she cried, 'you call Taras!' I stared at
her, aghast, believing her demented with the agony of our fears. 'My
dear,' I said, 'you know not what you are saying! My referring to him
so confidently in the presence of these rebels was like a drowning
man's snatching at a straw--nay, not even that! True, I have not been a
hard landlord--the Almighty is my witness--but how should Taras care?
Don't you know that he is no better than a cut-throat now; up in arms
against the noble and wealthy of the land? If I called him we were
lost, if we are not so already!' 'No, we should be saved,' cried she,
warmly. 'Why, you know yourself we never had a more honest fellow in
our service. I well remember his driving me once over to Colomea. I was
struck with a peculiar sadness in his face; and on my inquiring what
ailed him, he, in the most simple, straightforward fashion, told me it
was about a girl. Now, it was just a tale of troubled love, nothing at
all particular, but a man who could thus sorrow about a girl, and speak
as he did, has a heart, I say, to pity us and our children.' I thought
she was imagining a good deal; but, as she clung to her fancy, I no
longer tried to contradict her, but set my face to the doing of a
desperate duty. I did not send for Taras--for where, indeed, could I
have looked for him?--but I gave orders to barricade the doors; and,
arming my men, I placed wife and child in the strong room of the tower,
prepared for the worst, and resolved to meet it.
"The day passed quietly, but with the approach of night we heard them
coming--a mob of several hundred--the very women among them. They
roared for admittance. 'We'll have it all back what you have robbed us
of!" they cried, and forthwith prepared to force an entrance. The
strong portal was groaning beneath the blows of their axes--it must
yield, and we are lost! At this terrible moment a thunderous noise
filled the air, the echoing hoof-treads of a body of horse bursting
upon us. 'The hussars!' cried my steward; but no, for the mob was
shrieking, 'Urrahah, the avenger!' When I heard that I knew the hour of
death had come. There was an ominous silence, when a mighty voice fell
upon my anxious ear: 'You are lying, you wretches, I know the man!' and
presently, 'Up, comrades, make sure of this murderous lot; let none
escape!' It was Taras himself. My men gave a cry of hope, but I felt
stunned. There was a knocking at the gate presently, and a voice
saying, 'Open, sir; I have come to save you!' My men let him in.
"Taras, indeed, stood before me, but I should not have known him again,
so old, so worn he looked. 'My poor master,' he said, taking my hand,
'what must you have suffered, and the dear lady and the children! But
fear nothing now, come with me and we will settle matters.' I followed
him speechless. 'Nay, stop,' he said, with the sweetest smile, 'had we
not better send word to the lady first, she will be anxious, and I
would not have her be troubled a minute longer than I can help!' I
called one of my men, sending him to her with a message, but then--I am
not ashamed of owning it, I have not shed a tear these thirty years,
but there was no fighting against it now.... 'Poor master,' he said,
'be comforted.' He spoke to me gently, as to a child, and drew me along
with him to face the peasantry. A strange sight indeed--they stood like
a flock of sheep when a storm is bursting, pressing against each other
for very fear, and surrounded by a number of Taras's men armed to the
teeth, every third man carrying a blazing torch besides. By the outer
gate I perceived a further number, motionless on their horses, and
drawn up like a body of cavalry, their leader a man in peasant garb
with marked Jewish features. 'Now,' cried Taras, looking sternly at the
mob, 'here is the man you have accused to me; let me hear, then, what
he has been guilty of to justify your murderous attack. But I will have
the truth--and woe to the man that dares a falsehood!' Upon which most
of them fell on their knees, crying for mercy; a few only remained
stubbornly on their feet, and there was but one who had the courage to
make answer--it was Juzef Supan who said: 'We did not think that you,
the people's avenger, would take the part of a Polish noble--a
landlord--is not that enough in your eyes? He did, however, oppress us,
like all of them!' 'You are not much of a witness,' said Taras, 'I
happen to remember you. Your heart is a swamp, and your words like its
poisonous exhalations. Is there any one here who can come forward with
proof of the baron's oppression?' Juzef scowled, but the peasants
cried: 'Forgive us, he led us on, saying, This is the time when poor
folk can enjoy themselves for once, and the rich men must pay! And so
we----' ... 'Turned rogues and all but assassins,' interrupted Taras,
and his eye shot fire; 'do you think these are the people that have any
claim on me? You have deserved death every one of you for thus dragging
low the sacred cause I have espoused; for making the holy right an
excuse for the doing of meanest wrong. Yes, you have forfeited your
lives; but, believing that you have been misled, and that you are
willing to repent, I will grant you forgiveness, unless the baron
himself would have you punished.' 'Surely, I forgive them heartily,' I
cried. 'In that case,' he continued, 'I have but three things to see
to. Firstly, you shall begin to-morrow with rendering whatever labour
you owe to the baron; and you will behave reverently, as he deserves at
your hands. If any of you, after this, dares offer him any slight, or
withholds any just tribute, be it but a sheaf of wheat or an hour of
your time, I shall have him shot, as sure as there is a God above us.'
'We will render our every due,' they cried. 'Secondly'--and he
turned to me--'do they owe any arrears?' 'No,' 'But they have refused
labour--for how long?' 'About three weeks.' 'That is eighteen working
days. And how much in money did they force you to give them?' 'One
hundred and fifty florins; but I acquit them of it.' 'Ah, but that is
not justice,' he exclaimed, with a look that brooked no contradiction;
and, addressing himself again to the peasantry, he called upon their
judge to step forth. But that good man was not of the rioters; only one
of the elders, Grigori Borsak, had joined the mob, and shamefacedly he
presented himself. 'The eighteen days' labour,' said Taras, 'shall be
doubled, and are due to the baron whenever he chooses to call on you
within six weeks from this day. But as for the money, or at least
its value, I'll see it paid back this very hour. You must raise
it on the spot; some of my men will go with you about the village,
and you had better not keep us waiting. And now for the third matter.'
His voice swelled like thunder, and at a sign from him Juzef was
dragged forth. 'Ah! forgive him!' I cried; but he shook his head.
Another sign--two shots--and Juzef fell a corpse at our feet. The
peasantry, horror-struck, rushed back to the village. 'Well, then, this
is settled,' said Taras, turning to me. 'I have but to wait now to see
them make amends for what they robbed you of.' But I stood mute, the
awfulness and the generosity of this man seemed overpowering. He, too,
was silent awhile, and then he said softly, almost humbly, 'I would
like to see the lady and the dear children, but I dare hardly ask it.'
'Certainly,' I cried; 'forgive my neglect. Besides, she will want to
thank you. It was she who insisted that you would save us if I would
but send for you.' 'No! did she, indeed?' he exclaimed, blushing for
very pleasure; yet he followed me bashfully, almost reluctantly.
"But my wife was coming to meet us, bathed in tears and holding our
youngest child in her arms. She flung herself on her knees before him,
but he, with a gesture of dismay, lifted her gently, and, bowing
reverently, kissed the hem of her garment. 'Dear lady,' he said, 'I am
told that you still think kindly of your former servant; and be sure he
has never forgotten either the baron or yourself. I heard of your
plight two days ago, but could not come sooner--not till I saw judgment
done upon the mandatar at Rossow,' 'Bawinski!' she cried, dismayed,
'ah, his poor wife!' 'I could not help it, his life was forfeited!'
'Terrible man,' she sobbed, 'how long shall this shedding of blood
continue?' It must continue while wrong remains unpunished,' said he,
solemnly, 'and I have the power of righting it.' I thought it best to
change the subject, inquiring after his wife and children; and my wife,
recovering herself, invited him to our sitting-room. He followed her
shyly and with the utmost respect, nor could he be prevailed upon to
take a seat, but, hat in hand, remained standing, listening
deferentially to all I told him about ourselves and the things that had
occurred since his leaving. In fact, he was just the old servant
happening to pay a visit to his former master, unconsciously falling
back into the ways of service with the humble interest of grateful
attachment. But no sooner was he told that the elder had returned with
some money and a few heads of cattle, than he was the captain of his
band again, self-confident and imperious. I endeavoured once more to
have the people excused from making amends, but he would not hear of
it, turning upon me almost fiercely: 'It is right, sir, to accept it!'
and there seemed nothing else to be done. He took his leave with
evident emotion, and burst away with his band, like a whirlwind, as he
had come. I have written this in the early glimmer of morning, hardly
myself as yet, but I longed to tell you; nay, conscience urged me not
to delay my report. I am ready to swear to this statement if required,
remaining, meanwhile,
"Ever yours,
"Zborowski."
The lawyer had read the letter aloud, but with a voice growing husky
and tremulous, and having finished he sat down silent. Nor could any
one else find speech, except the governor, who once again struck his
fists on the table, exclaiming with a quaint petulance:--
"Perhaps you will tell me now, sirs, what I am to think of this? I say
it is maddening, it is distracting, if even the law cannot decide
whether a man is a wicked scoundrel or a noble-hearted, valorous
defender of his kind. Now without this Taras, my good friend Zborowski
were a corpse by this time, every manor in the district, but for him,
were in rains, and rebellion stalking the land! It is so, indeed. I
have little chance of upholding martial law though I proclaimed it, but
every word of his is regarded like an edict of the crown. But what do I
say?--why, without him we had never seen this confusion, and the wretch
has men shot like sparrows! Do _you_ understand him? then do help me to
see straight!"
"He is a remarkable outlaw, that much I perceive," said the general,
drily.
"It does not seem so baffling after all," broke in the burgomaster, "it
is just this, methinks--an honest law-abiding man, as he was
originally, has been worsted in a lawsuit--wronged, he thinks--and it
has driven him to seek for himself the right which he fancies is denied
him. He wants to destroy the man who has thus ill-used him, and he
thinks he must punish the unjust judges; that is, he seeks to kill
Hajek, and to--to--I beg your pardon, but the unjust judges in his
opinion are evidently the magistrates of this district. All his
enemies, then, are enjoying the shelter of this town, and this is why I
always urged making special provision for its safety."
"Supposing it is so, then why does he hold his 'judgments' all over the
country? returned the general.
"By way of practice, I should say," rejoined the burgomaster. "So far
he has not seen his way to attack us, because of the reinforcements,
which I am thankful to say are sufficiently large now; yet he must do
something to keep together his band. Besides, such men require
diversion!"
"Diversion!" broke in the governor, wrathfully, flourishing the baron's
letter in the burgomaster's face. "Do you dare maintain that such a man
kills his neighbours by way of a pastime?"
"Gently--gently, sirs," interrupted the general, amused at the
governor's fury; and turning to Starkowski, he said: "Now you have had
some opportunity of knowing this man, doctor; are you also of opinion
that this town is in danger of an attack?"
"Yes, certainly, so long as Hajek is within its gates. But Colomea is
in exactly the same position to him as any manor, any place whatever
sheltering an evil-doer. Taras's doings do not proceed from any
personal sense of injury; in short, they are not dictated by revenge.
There have been such instances in the history of the law, but his
motive, so far as I know, is unprecedented. Hajek has not robbed him of
anything, not wronged him in any way; the very lawsuit, which he
carried on with a pertinacity quite unexampled, was never any fighting
for _his_ right, but for the right of others--in fact, for _the_ right
pure and simple, for the 'holiest thing on earth,' as he once
designated it to me. He failed in fighting for it with peaceful means,
so he continues his battle by force of arms. He does not hate the
mandatar--or, rather, he hates him as he would hate any wrong-doer; his
fighting is a fight for the right--for the right, as such, against
wrong. Therefore I say he would not now be satisfied if you delivered
up the mandatar into his hands--you have heard what answer he made to
the baroness! And, therefore, what I should counsel is this: Protect
this city by all means, but do what you can to withdraw the district
from his power."
Captain Stanczuk fully concurred in this view, and a resolution was
passed to commence active operations against Taras immediately. The
town should be held, as hitherto, by its own garrison, while the rest
of the troops, as flying columns, should scour the country, the hussars
acting as scouts between them.
The mode of action settled, and everything arranged, the council was
breaking up, when the governor requested a further hearing. "Sirs," he
said, producing a writ, to which a large seal was appended, "I am
extremely sorry to have to detain you with this--one moment, I pray
you. It is not for me to question any of the Provincial Governor's
orders--but--humph! it is a pity sometimes---- However, I can but make
it known to you that, by this writ, I am instructed, firstly, to place
a price of five hundred florins upon Taras's head. Now, leaving all
other considerations out of the question, I should say this measure is
utterly useless, and will only enrage the peasantry. And I am
instructed, secondly--but no!..." Herr von Bauer was heaving with
passion, and his face was purple.
"Well, secondly?" inquired the general.
"I think, perhaps, on the whole, I had better keep this point to
myself--for the present, at least, till I hear what the Provincial
Governor may think of my urgent appeal to reconsider the matter. And
I'll just see," he added, with rising anger, "if there is any coward to
be found, any mean----" The rest was lost in his own furious growl.
However, he recovered sufficiently to say, "I wish you good evening,
gentlemen! I have the honour to wish you a very good evening. As for
me, if I had never known it before, I know it now, that it is
desperately pleasant work in one's old age to reach the dignity of a
district governor in Galicia...."