For the Right Part 38

Kap.r.o.nski 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. Kap.r.o.nski 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sistance. "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, pus.h.i.+ng 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 n.o.blemen 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 pa.s.sed, 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 n.o.ble 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 pa.s.sed 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 n.o.ble--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 a.s.sa.s.sins,' 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 G.o.d 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, blus.h.i.+ng 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 n.o.ble-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, flouris.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sed to commence active operations against Taras immediately. The town should be held, as. .h.i.therto, 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 pa.s.sion, 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...."

CHAPTER XVII.

SIGNS OF FAILURE.

About the very time when the authorities at Colomea were holding their war council, a remarkable occurrence took place at Zulawce. It was Ascension Day, and a general meeting had been called.

The men of Zulawce were in a difficulty of their own; for, while all the rest of the parishes within the disturbed district were at least free to side either with the Government or with the avenger, as seemed best to suit their temper or their interests, the people of Zulawce could do neither. They considered they had done with Taras; for had he not insulted them beyond forgiveness by refusing to rid them of the soldiers? But no less implacable was their resentment against the authorities who had inflicted the soldiers upon them; and even after the company had withdrawn its hateful presence, they continued in a high state of ill-humour and uncertainty of mind, which rendered them unfit for any united action. It was this very want of decision, however, which proved helpful to Father Leo in his strenuous efforts to prevent any deed of violence; for though there were few among them that would not have loved to see the manor plundered or set on fire, now that it was left at their mercy, none quite dared to a.s.sume the responsibility of taking the lead in such an act. Still, this, or any similar outrage, might any day be looked for; and since the helpless Jewgeni did nothing for the maintenance of order, Father Leo, a.s.sisted by some of the more steady-going of his paris.h.i.+oners, succeeded in bringing together a sort of committee, which was to take in hand the settlement of affairs in the distracted village. The six men, however, upon whom this office devolved did not at first seem more likely to arrive at a united opinion with whom to cast in their sympathy than the parish at large had been; but they managed by degrees to sink differences in a sort of compromise of a peculiar kind, and quite unprecedented even in the history of that remarkable people. The resolution arrived at ran as follows:--

"This is to give notice that since Taras has left us in the lurch, and the men of the law have wronged us, we repudiate them both now and evermore! It is their fault if we men of Zulawce, in this time of trouble, have come to the conclusion that we had better in future be our own administrators, recognising no one in authority over us, save the judge of our own choosing. We intend henceforth to pay neither tax nor tribute to any outsider, and we shall render forced labour to no man; but we will live justly and peaceably, wronging none either in life or property. We insist on taking back the field which belongs to us; but we will guard the manor as carefully as though it were left to the parish in trust by one of ourselves absent for a time." So then the committee of affairs at Zulawce, after this fas.h.i.+on, and quite ignorant of its cla.s.sical prototypes, had arrived at the idea of the republic, proposing Simeon Pomenko as the fittest man to preside as "free judge"

over the parish interests.

The announcement was received enthusiastically, and on the day in question all the community once more had gathered beneath the linden, where the new order of things was to be promulgated. The place was as crowded as on the Palm Sunday when Taras had made his memorable speech.

Two only were absent--Father Leo, who of course could not officially acknowledge this change of government, although he would not deny that for the present it seemed the likeliest arrangement for arriving at anything like order in the parish; and she whom he had termed the most unhappy widow of the place, poor a.n.u.sia, who since that service on Easter Sunday had left the house only when her presence was absolutely necessary about the farm. She continued an object of interest, and was talked about daily; but, with natural tact, the villagers forebore troubling her with calls, and pa.s.sed her in silence when they met on the rare occasions of her being about the fields; for even the roughest of them felt that her sorrow, and the silent dignity with which she bore it, commanded their reverence. And it redounds not a little to the honour of that wild community, that even on the day when their fury ran highest, when Wa.s.silj and Hritzko had returned with Taras's answer, none had thought of casting it up to the widow, or of offering her any insult whatever.

The bearing of the a.s.sembly was grave and even solemn. "Men and brothers," said Simeon, "it would be a disgrace if we could not rule ourselves and re-establish order in this village of ours! The country is full of uproar and sedition; let peace and honest labour have their place here--so be it!" On account of the intended independence of the community, and because of the pressure of the times, there would naturally be an increase of parish business; and it was resolved therefore that three elders henceforth would be required, and they were nominated. Alexa Sembrow was to act as "home minister,"--the common field and the fair distribution of its produce should be his especial care; while Wa.s.silj, the butcher, should see to the external safety of the place; Wilko Sembratowicz, the third of the number, serving as treasurer.