For the Right Part 45

"Certainly," said Hilarion. "The ox and the horse are equally useful, only in different ways; and a Jew is as good a man as ourselves, but differently endowed. Say what you like, but a Jew is ill-fitted for the bearing of arms, or to lead men in warfare; they are considered to be cowardly and servile, and no doubt are so."

"Nashko is a brave man, and has acquitted himself like a hero."

"I am sure he has," rejoined the old man, "but I maintain we do not ride an ox, even though we should know of one exceptionally well fitted to carry us. And we do not do so for the one reason that oxen as a rule are not considered to be first-rate steeds. And if a man insists on making the experiment, though it should turn out to his own satisfaction, he must not quarrel with his neighbours for laughing at him, nor scold his horses if they toss their heads at the queer creature he is stabling along with them. No, Taras," he added more seriously, "it is never satisfactory to fight established opinion, and you seem determined to run that head of yours right through the thickest walls; and not content with overthrowing injustice wherever you see it, you would actually have the world make friends with the Jews. Taras, have you considered that sometimes it is not the walls which go to pieces, but----"

"The head may dash out its brains against them, I know that," said Taras, quietly, "and it does not deter me for one moment. I entreat you to lay it upon your people not to sin against the laws of hospitality with regard to Nashko. He who offends him offends me."

"I am sorry for that," replied Hilarion, "but I cannot help it. He who receives hospitality must consider the ways of his hosts."

So the conversation served not to heal the jar, as Taras had hoped, but rather widened it, and the Huzuls annoyed Nashko even more than before.

Taras was grievously disappointed, and resolved to avoid further altercation, but something happened which forced him against his will to appeal a second time to the patriarch's sense of justice. It concerned Tatiana.

The poor maiden once more had reason to bewail her bewitching beauty.

Hilarion had offered her the shelter of his house, and she had gratefully accepted it, endeavouring to repay her benefactors by faithful service. She could not have lived many days among the tribe to whom her strange fate had brought her without perceiving that their moral sense was of the bluntest; but she endeavoured to keep out of harm's way by attending to her work, and to nothing else. The impudent youths, moreover, soon discovered that the youngest son of the house, the Royal Eagle, was not inclined to have her molested; and, indeed, he interfered with any intended liberty of theirs so effectually, that they dared not offer it, for even the boldest of them could ill stand his ground against that young hero. The girl was glad of his protection, her natural light-heartedness returning, till one day, when gone a-milking to a distant pasture, she grew aware, to her intense dismay, that Julko had defended her for no very lofty motive. She broke away from her ungenerous admirer, and like a hunted deer fled to Taras's camp, falling on her knees before him with the bitter cry: "If you cannot save me from shame, it had been better for me to die on the gallows!"

Taras endeavoured to calm her, and was going to set out immediately for Hilarion's dwelling. But Nashko laid hold of his arm, excitedly. The Jew, who had kept his composure so admirably through all the petty insults offered to himself, was shaking with rage, and his eyes flashed fire.

"Do not humble yourself in vain!" he cried. "You are going to ask these men for manly generosity--_these_ men, Taras! Why, they will never even understand your meaning; and if they did they are too savage, too low, to grant it!"

"You smart at the recollection of their insults," said Taras; "but this is unjust."

"I do not!" cried the Jew, pa.s.sionately.

"What is it, then, that moves you like this?"

Nashko grew white, and again the crimson glow flushed his clear-cut face. "Go," he murmured, "and judge for yourself."

Taras went, and was hardly able to believe his ears, for Hilarion's reply was of the shortest and driest. "There is no help for it," he said.

"What?" cried Taras, utterly amazed. "Do you mean to say that we have saved the girl from her ignominious fate only to hand her over as a plaything to that son of yours? For shame!"

"Moderate your feelings," returned the aged man, quietly. "If the Royal Eagle has cast his eye on a maiden, and would have her, she has every reason to be proud of it."

"In honourable wedlock, then?"

"Oh dear, no! he is promised in marriage to the only granddaughter of my cousin Stanko, on the other side of the Czernahora, and she will be his wife as soon as she attains her sixteenth year. Stanko and myself arranged this more than ten years ago, for she is his heiress and must marry into the family."

"Then I was right in concluding that he desires the girl for his pleasure merely?"

"Yes, certainly; and why should he not? she is fair enough to behold.

Why on earth do you look as if he meant to eat her? You cannot expect him to consider her more unattainable than any of our own girls. I give you leave to ask any Huzul maiden you please whether she would not feel honoured by his attentions."

"That is nothing to me," cried Taras. "Tatiana considers it shame, and I call it vilest disgrace! I entreat you to hold her safe from your son."

"I cannot interfere; I said so before," said the old man; "and there would be little use endeavouring. If the maiden indeed is so coy as you tell me, I can only advise her to leave the settlement."

Furiously indignant, Taras went back to the camp. Karol WyG.o.da had returned in his absence, bringing with him two peasants from Borsowka.

But Taras waved them aside; he was going to consult with Nashko first, who rushed out to meet him anxiously.

"You were right," said Taras, grinding his teeth, "and I know not where we can hope to protect her."

"But I do," cried the Jew, eagerly. "She dare not leave the mountains, because prison still awaits her in the lowlands; but we must place her where Julko's power is not acknowledged. I have thought it might be best to take her to Zabie; I have acquaintances there, an old Jewish innkeeper and his wife, who I doubt not will give her shelter. They have no children of their own, and I know they can be trusted. I mentioned the girl's sad history there the other day, and the good wife shed tears, a.s.suring me she would love to show kindness to one in such trouble."

"But if Julko should follow me thither?" interposed the girl, anxiously.

"Even if he should, he will not dare to use violence," said the Jew.

"But I do not think him capable of that. He is not a scoundrel, but only a lawless youth whose nature at times is too strong for him, and who never learned to keep it under. Moreover, it is true Huzul fashion--out of sight, out of mind. You will be safe there, I think."

"Let us hope so," said Taras, deciding for this plan; "for, indeed, we have no other choice. Make ready, poor girl, to ride with us!"

And turning to Karol now, he required his report.

"Captain, it is just fearful!" a.s.serted this man, "If that priest at Kossowince was a fiend, this baron is one double-dyed." And therewith he proceeded to give instances of his atrocious cruelty and oppression.

"Have the people appealed to the law?" inquired Taras.

"Indeed, they have; but he is not only the greatest scoundrel, but the vilest liar under the sun. He has given the lie to every accusation, and the magistrates have believed the n.o.bleman rather than the poor, ignorant peasants. Ah! captain, you should have seen their grateful tears when I told them I was one of your men, and that you had sent me.

They are waiting and hoping for you now, as for their only saviour; but hear their own messengers."

And his companions came nearer--a poorly-clad elderly man of dignified bearing, who introduced himself as Hara.s.sim Perko, the judge of Borsowka, and a younger peasant wearing a fine sheepskin. He called himself Wa.s.silj Bertulak, and his voice was husky, as with suppressed tears, in giving his tale of woe; indeed, he could hardly speak.

"Our people have sent me because the monster's most recent crime has laid low the pride of my life. Ah! my poor daughter!" and he turned away, overcome with sobs. But all the more minute was the judge's account, and it did not require his final entreaty to confirm Taras's resolve that he must start on the spot for Borsowka.

The a.s.sistance of the Huzuls was not needed in the present instance, for although Taras's men numbered less than a score now, they would suffice for overpowering the baron, who, with a few old servants, lived in the quiet manor house of Borsowka. Taras therefore returned to Hilarion only to take his leave.

"The Almighty speed you," said Hilarion. "Let us part friends. You are a welcome guest here whenever you please to return, and the flower of the clan is ever at your service. I have partaken of your blood and you of mine; this is a tie which can never be severed. Remember it always."

"I shall remember it," said Taras, bending over the old man's hand.

He mounted with his men, and the little troop followed the Czeremosz till they reached Zabie. There he handed over Tatiana to the old Jewish couple, requiring their solemn a.s.surance that they would watch over her as though she were a child of their own, and after the fashion of their race they gave the promise with many oaths. This settled, the band dashed away towards the plain, the two men of Borsowka in their midst.

Early on the fourth day, riding under cover of the night only, they reached the chalky cliffs on the left bank of the Dniester. There they rested for the last time, being within a few miles of the quiet manor house they were about to enter. Late in the afternoon a pale faced girl, looking troubled and shy, appeared in the glen where they halted.

Wa.s.silj Bertulak going to meet her, greeted her with a father's affection, and taking her by the hand brought her to Taras. "My poor girl," he said, "she has come to see the scoundrel meet with his reward."

"Oh! no! no!" cried the girl, alarmed.

"Yes, yes, it is necessary," urged the father, "for he might deny it all."

Taras looked compa.s.sionately at the troubled girl. "Stay with us," he said, tenderly. "Poor child! I daresay it is a sore effort to you to tell of your grievous sorrow in the presence of so many strange men.

But let the thought comfort you that you do it in order to save others from similar harm."

And then he made his disposition for the night. The manor house was in a lonely place, inhabited only by the baron, his old body-servant, Stephen, and Peter, the coachman; the steward and the rest of the men sleeping in the farm-buildings near the village. Resistance, therefore, need not be expected, and Taras satisfied himself with appointing Nashko and the greater part of his men to guard the grounds, whilst he, with the others, would bring the accused n.o.bleman to his doom.

About eleven they started, reaching the modest building soon after midnight. The outer door was not even locked. "No doubt that coachman has attractions in the village," whispered the judge, who was of Taras's party. But when they entered the bas.e.m.e.nt, in order to make sure of Stephen, that conjecture proved to be erroneous. They found but one man, the coachman, who started aghast and prayed for his life pitifully. "I am no a.s.sa.s.sin," said Taras, and inquired about Stephen.

"His dying sister sent for him this morning," stammered the terrified Peter; "and the baron gave him leave to go."

Taras thereupon ordered Sefko to guard the man; he, with the others, mounting the stairs. The baron seemed to have been roused, for a door opened, a streak of light appearing, a voice weak with age calling out, "Peter, what is the matter?"