For the Right. Karl Emil Franzos
And moreover, the clerk continued, it was a fact that among those who had given their oath in favour of the manorial claim had been several heads of families of the village, men, therefore, who tendered witness against their own interest. Such evidence could not easily be set aside. Considering all these points, therefore, the case was dismissed, the plaintiffs to bear the costs, as was meet and just.
"Just!" echoed the men in savage scorn, Taras alone keeping silence. His hand went to his heart suddenly, he staggered and fell heavily, as a man struck by lightning.
For hours he lay in a swoon. They had carried him into his house; but neither the lamentations of his wife, nor their united endeavours to restore animation seemed to penetrate the dead darkness that had fallen on his soul. And when at last he opened his eyes his words appeared to them so utterly strange that they were more frightened still. "The very foundations are giving," he kept crying, "the holiest is being dragged low!" And he, in whose eyes no one ever had seen a tear, was seized with a paroxysm of weeping. He bemoaned his terrible fate, and between his sobs he called for his children, to take leave of them, he said. And he repeated this request so urgently that they could but humour him. It was a pitiful scene, and one after another the neighbours went away shudderingly, Simeon Pomenko only watching through the night by the sufferer's couch. But in the village the news spread that the judge, for sorrow, had gone out of his mind.
Not till the following morning did this piece of information come to the ears of the mandatar, Mr. Hajek having spent the night at Zablotow, playing at cards with the officers of the hussars. His under-steward, Boleslaw, impatiently lay in wait against his return, never doubting but that the news would fall on delighted ears, and he was not a little surprised at the mandatar's evident dismay, Nor was this put on; for the Count, still enlarging his acquaintances at Paris, had, through his friends the usurers, got introduced to their solicitors, and Hajek knew he must send him the wherewithal to stem the scandal of a prosecution, whatever he might wish to keep back for himself. So money, more than ever, was the need of the moment; and having succeeded in one villainous trick, he might hope to develop his talents for the further fleecing of the peasantry, and it was highly important, therefore, that the community should be represented by a judge who, at the risk of whatever loss to himself, was bent on keeping the people from offering violence.
"Gone out of his mind? Dear me, I am sorry," he said, honestly too. "But I daresay report has exaggerated the fact. He may have had a blow, but I do not believe he is the man to go mad. Go to his wife and tell her, with my compliments, that I shall be pleased to send for the best doctor at Colomea at my own expense."
The man hung back. "I am no coward," he said presently, "and I think I could face any dozen of the peasants, if you wished it. But as for this woman--sir, do you know she is a regular Huzul, quite a spitfire of a temper--and a man after all has only one pair of eyes to lose!"
The mandatar did not care what risk these optics might run; the man had to carry his message. He was relieved, however, on entering the judge's house. The two elders, Simeon and Alexa were with the sufferer, and he appeared to be listening to their words. The storm had not yet subsided which tore his soul, and threatened to change the very drift of his being. He who his life long had stood like a rock against the surges of trouble, who had won happiness and prosperity through steadfast endurance, was sobbing and wailing like a child, and his friends could not but tremble for his reason as they heard his pitiful plaints. "I have striven to pass my life in honour," he would moan, "and now it must end in shame! And what of my poor children, since I have no choice but to follow the dictate of my heart?"
He saw the under-steward enter cautiously, and his pale face grew crimson at the sight. Simeon rose hastily to send away the unwelcome visitor, but Taras interfered. "Glad to see you, friend Boleslaw!" he cried, cuttingly. "What good news has brought you hither?"
The giant delivered his errand, stammeringly.
"Send for a doctor--indeed--at his own expense!" repeated Taras. "Well, I did not require this proof to tell me that the mandatar is an honest man!" And therewith he closed his eyes, lying still like a sleeping babe.
Boleslaw paused. "Shall I----" he began presently, addressing the elders. But at the sound Taras opened his eyes. "Leave this house!" he cried, with a voice of thunder, and the powerful man quaked, making good his escape.
Taras watched his retreat, smiling strangely. "This message is something to be thankful for! You, my friends, could not help me, but this insult brings me back to myself. I shall fight against my ghastly destiny while yet I may!"
"What destiny?" said Simeon, soothingly. "Do look at it calmly. You have, in a just cause, done your utmost to see us righted; and you have failed honourably. What else could there be said?"
"What else?" reiterated Taras. "And since it is a just cause--but what use in talking! … I daresay you thought I had lost my reason, because I have cried and wailed like a woman--did you?" His friends endeavoured to look unconcerned. "But, I tell you," he continued, with trembling voice, "it will be well if you never have occasion to find out that, though reeling, my mind was terribly clear! … I will try to spare you the discovery. I want to see that clerk again."
"He has left," returned Simeon; "he thrust his papers into my hand when you had fainted, and turning his horses' heads he made the utmost speed to leave us. The poor creature was really quite frightened; never in his life again would he carry a verdict to savages, he said."
Taras could not help smiling. "Then I must ask the pope to read me that letter," he said. "Leave the room, I shall be ready to join you in a few minutes."
"Do not exert yourself just yet," entreated Simeon.
But Taras looked up sternly. "Do not hinder me, man," he cried, "cannot you see that my very fate is at stake!"
The men left him misgivingly.
"What do you think of it?" said Alexa, as they stood waiting in the yard.
"God knows!" replied Simeon, troubled. "But I cannot forget how he refused to uncover when the verdict was being read."
The voice of Anusia was heard, who would not let her husband go from the house. "You will be fainting again!" she lamented. But Taras, though white as death, stepped forth, treading firmly.
The three men walked away to call on Father Martin; but on entering the manse his housekeeper, Praxenia, met them with a tearful face. She was an elderly spinster from the village who had presided over his domestic concerns since the popadja had departed this life, leaving the pope a widower.
"God o' mercy," she sobbed, looking at Taras, "it's a blessing that you, at least, have got back your wits. They said in the village that you had lost them. But you are all right, I see--would I could say as much for the poor little father. He is quite off his head, I assure you; regular mad if ever man was!"
"He will come round again, no doubt," said Taras. "I daresay he has had a glass too much."
"Ah, no," wept the good spinster; "that were nothing since we are used to it! He has not had a drop since yesterday, poor old man, who never could do without his tipple; it is that which frightens me! He is lying quite still now, staring blankly, and talking a heap of nonsense between whiles."
"Humph," grunted Simeon, "that certainly looks alarming. I have known him these twenty years, he never showed such symptoms."
"Didn't I say so--a very bad sign, surely! And all on account of that sermon, would you believe it? But let me tell you how it happened. I had gone to his room quite early yesterday morning--would I had bitten my tongue off first! though my going in was quite innocent-like. 'Little Father,' I said, 'there's a thaw setting in, and the parish is just beside itself with joy.' 'Beside itself? dear! dear!' he said, 'I must go and see,' and off he trotted. But very soon he came back again, his eyes positively shining. 'Naughty, naughty, little father,' I said, 'you have gone and been at Avrumko's--very naughty, so early in the day, and before reading mass!' But he insisted that he had not been near the inn, and that nothing but the common delight had so excited him. 'Ah! Praxenia,' he said, 'what a day to have seen--all the village is praising the