For the Right. Karl Emil Franzos

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СКАЧАТЬ if he must pass it nursing the one desperate thought. So he went to the pope and begged him to indite an inquiry to the lawyer.

      Father Leo looked him in the face anxiously. The man appeared calm. "You are thinking too much of the law-suit!" he said, nevertheless.

      "Not more than need be," replied Taras. "I have long settled in my mind all concerning that question."

      The pope wrote the desired letter. The reply came at the end of a week. He had done what he could, said the lawyer, to urge the case forward, praying especially for a re-examination of the witnesses; but he had received no answer so far.

      Taras heaved a sigh when the pope had communicated this letter to him. "It will go hard with me in the winter," he said sadly.

      But the pope could not know the full import of these words. "You have done your duty," he said, "and that will comfort you."

      "There is no comfort in that," said Taras, "though it may help one to be strong. A man who has laid his hand on the plough of any duty must go on till the work is done."

      The winter proved hard, indeed, for the waiting man, but the heavier the burden weighed on his soul the more anxious he seemed to hide it.

      "He has ceased groaning as he used to do," Anusia said to her friend, the warm-hearted, fat little popadja; "and he seems to take pleasure in a pastime, rather unusual with him; he has become a hunter for hunting's sake."

      Taras, in that winter, would be absent for weeks at a time, pursuing the bear. But his three companions, who were devotedly attached to him--Hritzko and Giorgi Pomenko, the two sons of his friend Simeon, and the young man, Wassilj Soklewicz, whose brother had been shot on the contested field--could tell little of the judge's cheer. "He is even more silent in the forest than at home," they said; "and if he takes any delight in the hunt it is only because he is such a good shot. He cares nothing for the happy freedom of life up yonder, nothing for the excitement of driving the bear; but his face will always light up when he has well-lodged his bullet."

      The winter was not yet over, and Taras was again absent hunting, when one day--it was in March, 1838--the pope received a large letter from the district town. The lawyer had addressed the decision of the upper court to him, giving as his reason that he had understood from Father Leo's inquiry in the autumn, that he also sympathised with the judge, Barabola. "I pray you, reverend sir," wrote the lawyer, "to make known to him the enclosed verdict as best you can; for I am afraid the poor man will be crushed and not easily lift up his head again. The legal means are exhausted, the lawyer can do nothing more; let the pastor, then, come in and heal the wound."

      The good pope was troubled, his apprehension nowise lessening on hearing how the first verdict had overpowered his friend. "Poor man," he said; "poor dear child! how will he take it?"

      With not a little trepidation, therefore, he went to see Taras upon his return from the mountains, endeavouring to prepare him for the bad news by a rather lengthy and well-considered speech. Taras however, behaved otherwise than the pope had anticipated. He grew white, and the deep furrow between his brows appeared more threatening, but his voice was firm as he asked, "Then the upper court has upheld the first verdict?"

      "Yes," said Father Leo, gently. "But you must not take it too much to heart, you have tried honestly."

      "Let me know what they say," interrupted Taras, as calm as before, but it might have been noticed that he leant heavily on the table beside which he was standing.

      The pope produced the writ, reading and explaining. The court dismissed the appeal, seeing no reason why the trial should be repeated, it being fully evident that the former examination had satisfied the demands of justice. The lower court's verdict, therefore, must be upheld.

      Taras had listened to the end with the same rigid mien. "Thank you," he said, when Father Leo had done. "But now leave me alone. You too, Anusia; I must think it over."

      "What use in farther troubling?" demurred the pope. "Dr. Starkowski says especially that the legal means are exhausted; which means that there is nothing further to be done. You must submit to the will of God."

      "We will come back to that presently," said Taras, with a ghastly smile, which quite frightened the pope. "You shall not be cheated out of your sermon, but not now … not now!" He repeated the words almost passionately.

      Father Leo still hesitated; but Anusia interfered. She had been sitting in a corner, weeping; but now she rose. "Stay, pope," she entreated, taking hold of Taras's hand. "Husband," she cried, shrilly, "fly into whatever rage you like, thrash the rascal at the manor house till he cannot move a limb, if it will ease you; but do not hide your wrath within yourself. Do not look so stony; it kills me, husband. I am maddened with fear! I know why you would have us leave you--you are going to lay hands on yourself!"

      "No!" cried Taras, solemnly. "God knows, I have no such thought." But again the smile played about his mouth. "Be at peace, wife," he added; "I have never stood in more grievous need of health and life than now. Leave me."

      They saw they must obey, but they remained standing outside the closed door, listening anxiously. They hoped the terrible tension of his heart might be lessened now by the pouring forth of his sorrow, but they heard nothing save his measured step. It ceased at length, and all was still.

      "Come!" said the poor wife, dragging the pope to a small window which gave them a peep into the room. They saw Taras, sitting still, resting his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. He sat motionless.

      "We had better leave him to fight it out," said Father Leo, "his is a strong heart, and he will get over it."

      But Anusia could not conquer her fears. "I must watch him," she moaned, the hot tears trickling down her face. "It is more than you think! Why, he is like a child at other times, never hiding the thoughts that move him; and now he cannot even speak to me or you!"

      The pope endeavoured to comfort her, but it was ill trying when he was anxious enough himself. He left her presently to visit a sick parishioner who was waiting for him, returning in about an hour.

      Anusia had not stirred from the little window. "He only moved once," she whispered, hoarsely, "and it was awful to behold. I watched him, hardly daring to breathe, and saw him rise slowly and lift the fingers of his right hand to heaven. His face was stony, never a muscle he moved, but his eyes could not hold back the tears, and they ran heavily down his death-like cheeks--ah, Father Leo, it must have been an awful oath he swore to himself--and now he sits rigid as before, staring hopelessly."

      "That won't do," murmured the pope, opening the door rather noisily and entering. He was resolved not to leave the room again, even if Taras should dismiss him peremptorily. But there was no fear of that.

      The judge rose, and met him quietly, almost serenely. "You are right, Father Leo," he said, "it is no use to keep on troubling! I have well-nigh worn out my brains, and am not a bit further than before! … There is just one thing though I want to know: you told me the lawyer had written that all the legal means were now exhausted--are you sure? are these his very words?"

      "Yes; it is quite plain."

      "But I am not certain. For I remember that our own judge, at Ridowa, when I was a boy, had a protracted law-suit with a cousin of his about some will that was questioned. The district court decided in his favour; but the cousin appealed, and the court at Lemberg was on his side. The judge thereupon took the case to a supreme court at Vienna, and there he obtained his right. So you see there must be judges at Vienna, СКАЧАТЬ