For the Right Part 22

That had been on the Thursday. a.n.u.sia appeared to take no notice that things were seen to by friends and neighbours, and she continued the whole of Good Friday in the same dull stupor. But when the popadja entered the sick-chamber early on the Sat.u.r.day a happy change, evidently, had taken place. The bed was vacated, and a servant-girl came running in explaining: "The mistress is looking after the dairy, she is scolding poor Hritzko grievously because he brought over his father's new churn."

And, indeed, the startled popadja even now could hear the so-called scolding. "I know you meant kindly, Hritzko," a.n.u.sia was saying, in a voice both firm and clear; "but just take your things home with you, I can manage my own business." And the priest's lady herself presently received a similar greeting. "It is most kind of you"--a.n.u.sia made haste to address her friend as soon as she beheld her--"I am pleased to see you any time; but leave me now. And this kerchief must be yours, I think; I found my Tereska wearing it. But my children are no poor orphans, thank G.o.d, requiring friends to clothe them."

The good lady was only too willing to be reproved. "Say what you like,"

she cried, "I am happy to find you up again!"

"Yes," said a.n.u.sia, with perfect composure, "I know you all thought I had gone mad. But my mind was right enough; only, you see, I had to satisfy my own judgment that my husband had done well. I had always looked upon him as the most perfect man on earth, so that the need was great to find an answer to my questioning, and everything besides had to give way."

"Then you arrived at the conclusion that nothing else was left for him?" broke in Hritzko, vehemently.

"I have," she a.s.sented. "I saw it was his heart that laid it upon him to act as he has done, and he is a man that cannot go against the behest of his own heart. I know that, and it must be enough for me. As to whether he is otherwise in the right or not, I, a woman, am unable to decide. My mind says 'Yes,' but the heart keeps crying 'No.' I can but wait and see. If he is in the right the Almighty will own him and let him be a helper to many. But if he is on the path of wrong, G.o.d will turn from him, and his end will be the gallows. Be that as it may; he is lost to us, my children are fatherless, and henceforth I must be to them father and mother in one."

"And we all will help you!" cried the popadja, warmly.

"As far as I may need your help," returned a.n.u.sia, "I shall accept it gratefully." And therewith she resumed issuing orders to the servants about the place.

Father Leo did not learn the good news till about noon, when he returned from the parish, and, not waiting to eat his dinner, he hastened to the farm to see with his own eyes that a.n.u.sia indeed had recovered. He found her very quiet and self-possessed, and there was nothing to make him doubt the soundness of her mind, save the occupation he found her engaged upon. She had had the great barn cleared and the floor was being spread with straw. "What for?" he inquired, wonderingly.

"To sleep the soldiers," she replied, with a bitter smile.

"The soldiers! What soldiers?"

"I am surprised your reverence should require me to explain," she said.

"Is it unknown to you that he who but lately was master here has declared war against his Emperor, and that the wife and children of that man are here unprotected? Will it not be the most natural thing to take possession of this farm in order to make it impossible for him to visit his family secretly? And, moreover, it might be supposed that his wife could be so questioned that from her his whereabouts could be learned; at any rate, it might be useful to make sure of her and her children as hostages, in case ..."

"No, no!" cried Leo, "this latter, most certainly not. The Emperor will never wage war upon women and children."

"Well, we shall see," she continued; "thus much is certain, that we shall have the Whitecoats quartered here before long; that coward of a mandatar will take care we shall, if no one else will. Did not Taras inform him plainly that with him the beginning should be made? I am only sorry for the village. It is hard that the neighbours should suffer, and it will turn them against us. It will be but natural if they do, and I cannot help it."

"They shall not, if I can prevent it," cried the pope, eagerly. "Now I know what to preach about to-morrow!"

"Well, I shall be grateful to you, whether you succeed or not, but one thing you must promise me"--she held out her hand, drawing herself up proudly. "You shall not ask them to pity me or my children. We do not need it, please G.o.d, while I have health and am able to keep house and home together."

He gave her his word, and kept it as far as his own compa.s.sion would let him. But his wife, in her own heart, was proudly happy, for never had she heard him preach with a fervour more tender and soul-stirring; not noticing in her wifely gladness that this sermon of his differed somewhat from his usual discourses, inasmuch as he never mentioned either the wisdom or the justice of the Almighty, being taken up entirely with the one message to his hearers, the one exhortation of "loving our neighbour as ourselves!" And as he strove in his simple, yet impressive way to make it plain that an act of true love to one's neighbours, mistaken, even, though it might be, was none the less worthy of grateful acknowledgment, and that at all events it could never deserve the ill-will of those for whose sake it had been done, even though they might have to suffer in consequence--they all knew whom and what he meant, and felt moved accordingly. And emotion deepened when he spoke of the common sorrow making all men as brethren, since none was fully happy here below, and that there was no surer salvation from our own misery than being loving and good to other sufferers, especially to the weak and forsaken, the widows and orphans about us. And taking up an example to hand, he spoke of the sad lot of a poor woman, named Josephka, whose husband they had lately buried. "Do not let us imagine," he cried, "that we are doing more than our bounden duty if we remember her trouble, aiding her with our alms, which she hath need of sorely. Yet, poor as Josephka is, it is not she that is the most sorrow-stricken widow among us; there being a balm to her grief in the blessed thought that the husband she mourns has gained that rest to which we ourselves are journeying, that he has attained beyond the sorrow which remains with us still. There is another one among us, widowed, I say, and more grief-bowed than she, to whom this consolation is denied, and our most sacred duty is to her! Our alms then to Josephka, for she has need of them, but give ye your tenderest love, your most helpful sympathy, to that other most sorrowful widow in this village, whose children in their father's lifetime are as orphans in our midst!"

There was a great sobbing among the women, and a stirring among the men. One only in all that congregation sat unmoved, even shaking her head in disapproval--a.n.u.sia herself; and when the service was ended she quitted the building composedly. They all made room, and none dared address her, the popadja only joined her in silence and saw her home.

And when the men had gathered in groups without, the one topic was Taras, as, indeed, was the case all over the country that morning. Some had heard that already more than a hundred men had joined his banner; others had been told that his native parish of Ridowa had sent him word how, one and all, they were ready to rise in rebellion at his command; others again had certain information that the district governor at Colomea had fainted right away on hearing of Taras's now famous declaration of war ... all of which tidings were believed in as faithfully as though the pope himself had announced them as gospel truth from the pulpit. And not a soul present doubted but that Taras would swoop down on the arch-villain in their midst to judge him.

What difference of opinion there was concerned the time only when the avenger might be expected.

"I say he will come to-night," said Wa.s.silj, the butcher; "for to-day he unfurls his banner, and he told us it would be his first deed."

But others opposed this opinion. "Taras is a G.o.d-fearing man," said the s.e.xton, "I'll never believe he will thus spend the blessed Easter."

"Nor should I think he would act foolishly," added Red Schymko; "why the mandatar is safe away at Zablotow, hiding with the military. I know it for certain."

"You know it for a falsehood then," retorted Giorgi Pomenko, "the coward is hiding in the iron closet he has had built for himself at the manor house. I rather think, therefore, we shall hear of Taras this very night."

"So do I," chimed in Marko the smith, the giant with the infant voice; "what should he be waiting for? Has he not men enough with the hundred about him, being sure also of every honest, brave one among us?"

"Ho! ho!" rejoined Wa.s.silj, the butcher, "am I not honest, or as brave as any? yet, would I lend a hand to the deed? I doubt if many will a.s.sist him!"

"Do you?" snarled the corporal. "Can it be a matter of doubt, indeed, when it is a question of aiding your own great hero?"

"Hold your wicked tongue," burst in the sons of Pomenko. "The time is gone when Taras could be insulted with impunity. Whoever would do so is a scoundrel--and a scoundrel is every one that will not stand by him against the mandatar!"

At which Jewgeni, the judge, grew alarmed. "Hear me," he cried.

"A scoundrel?" interrupted the butcher. "You had better hold your tongues, youngsters; this axe of mine has silenced many a bullock!"

"Hear me," pleaded Jewgeni "A hajdamak----" and there he stopped.

"Nay, hear _me_," broke in Red Schymko; "I know what is best to do. I make no promises either way, but shall just wait and see! If the mandatar offers resistance, to the shedding of blood even, I were a fool to risk life in opposing him. Is it my quarrel? Have I prevented the parish from getting back the field by force? It was Taras's doing.

Have I lost the law suit? No, but Taras has. Have I turned outlaw, calling myself an avenger, and having my praises sung by all the land?

No, not I; but Taras. Then, I say, let him bear the brunt. But when the mandatar and his men are worsted, and there is a chance of repaying ourselves, let us not be such fools as to stand by and look on. As he robbed us, so let us rob him--that is what I think..."

"For shame!" cried Giorgi Pomenko; and Wa.s.silj, the butcher, added: "Yes, for shame! Are you addressing a parcel of thieves?"

"Well, hear me then--a hajdamak--and I your judge----" But Jewgeni again stopped short, the butcher being bent on a further hearing.

"Listen to me, you men, and I will show you that I am no scoundrel," he cried, lifting up his powerful voice, "I am all for Taras, and whoever speaks ill of him shall answer for it to me. He is a grand hero, and far from being a hajdamak. He has undertaken the sacred duty of being an avenger, of righting the wrong. But in this great work we may not help him, because we have wife and child to consider. If he has risen above any such consideration it is in virtue of his own magnanimity.

For my part, I am unable to equal it. Whoever joins Taras openly has to choose between going to prison or taking refuge in the mountains. I shall keep the peace, therefore, and so will every conscientious man here, for the sake of his family."

"Yes! yes!" cried the men, one after another, "Wa.s.silj has said well, Taras has our best wishes. More is the pity that we cannot openly join him."

"Pity!" sneered the corporal; "but you may look on, at a safe distance!"

"Yes, indeed, and we will," was the unanimous retort. "It is you and Schymko that disgrace the village. No honest man will go to sleep to-night."

And therewith the consultation ended.

Not long after, Halko, the servant lad of a.n.u.sia's farm, rushed into his mistress's presence. "Is it true"--he cried, "it is being spoken of all over the village--that Taras, with a hundred men, will attack the manor to-night? The people mean to watch for it, but will not join him for fear of the law. Is it true?"

a.n.u.sia stood trembling violently, a burning glow and a death-like pallor succeeding one another rapidly in her face.

"How should I know?" she said presently, with a stony look. "I and my family belong to the village, and have nothing to do with the 'avenger.' And just because he has been the master of this house there is henceforth no communion between him and us! Let the others watch for him; we shall retire as usual. Let no one dare to disregard my orders!"

CHAPTER XII.

FLOURISHING LIKE A BAY-TREE.

"While the inhabitants of Zulawce thus excitedly waited for the events of the coming night, their busy imagination beguiling the slow hours with various visions of the hapless mandatar, beholding him either hanged, or shot, or burnt alive, this gentleman himself was similarly engaged. That is to say, he also was waiting excitedly for the night, endeavouring to shorten the agony of delay by picturing to himself the approaching crisis. But the images he had in view were of a vastly different nature. For he was nowise hiding in an iron closet at Zulawce, which, even if he had desired it, would have been impossible, for the simple reason that there was no such stronghold; but he was at that moment comfortably established in the snug little smoking-room of his chambers at Colomea--his refuge, both for his pleasures and, perchance now, in trouble. He had just returned from a dinner which the district governor at this season was in the habit of giving to the officials of the place; and between the blue circles ascending from his expensive cheroot he now beheld visions--imagining the impending scenes at an evening party to which the richest man of the neighbourhood, Herr Bogdan von Antoniewicz, an Armenian, had invited a small but select company. These scenes presumably would be of a pleasant nature, for Mr.

Hajek kept smiling--nay, he even skipped about his room the while he puffed his fragrant cloudlets with a sort of irrepressible delight. But if he was expecting some happy event it appeared to be a critical one also, to judge from the nervous action with which he kept pulling out his watch, and there was even an occasional shadow of seriousness gliding over his finely-cut but dissipated features. But this was like a noonday cloud, only darkening for a moment the brilliant sky, and the mandatar returned to his smiles.