"Not the mistress or the children," said Jemilian; "but blood has flowed." He was already on his way back when the tumult arose, and, returning cautiously, he learned what had happened, and that the smith had received his death-wound.
"Do not take it to heart so much, dear master," said the man, interrupting his report, for Taras was groaning pitifully. "The blood which has been shed lies neither at your door nor at your wife's. She did manage to have the people warned through Father Leo."
"At my door!" cried Taras, wildly. But, checking himself, he requested to be left alone. It was some time before he showed himself to his men, and then, with a silent nod only to their greeting, he departed into the lonely wood.
The rough men were at a loss to understand him. "Why, this is excellent news," they said. "Such butchery would rouse the most law-abiding people in the land!" The Jew alone guessed what moved the captain's heart, and took courage to go after him. He found him lying beneath a fir-tree, with a gloomy face and evidently suffering.
"Taras!" he said, taking his hand, "I understand your grief; but the comfort remains that you did your best to avert this trouble."
But the captain shook his head. "A man must reap what he sows," he said.
"Do you repent of the step you have taken?"
"No!" he cried, vehemently. "Oh! how little you understand me! If I had not done so already, I would this day declare war against those that are in power. I have but done what I must do. But what that means--all the fearful scope of my undertaking--has only now grown plain to me.... And more," he added, hoarsely ... "there is another thing! I used to think at times that possibly I might come to an evil end through this work of mine. Now I know it; I see now that my end can not, must not, be a good one...."
"What has come to you, Taras?" cried the Jew, alarmed.
"I cannot explain it," said the captain, with a wistful look; "it is a voice within me, not of the mind, but of the heart. I know it now!"