For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

Taras also was straining his eyes, and grew white with apprehension, having recognised his young servant, Halko. "There is trouble at home!" he cried, rushing to meet the messenger.

But in spite of the headlong career to which the bold rider forced his helpless steed, he reached the rocky entrance of the valley safely, and then, just at the last reckless plunge, the poor animal rolled over, the young man, in a flying leap, coming to the ground. A cry of horror burst from the expectant band, but the horse only lay gasping; the youth jumping up from his fall like a wild-cat, hastened onward with quickening steps, stopping in front of Taras.

"The chestnut is done for," he panted, "but I have kept my promise, to reach you by noon. This is the mistress's message!" And he reported how the commissioner had threatened Anusia. All the band had assembled round him, listening eagerly. "The cowards!" they cried when he had done, "being afraid of us, they are going to wage war upon women!"

Taras alone seemed calm. "It is well," he said to the youth; "did you not say the commissioner intends to return in the evening? We will have a word with him, then. Julko, I will ask you to bring him hither, not harming him, but blindfolding his eyes.... You, Halko, go back to my wife, and tell her to be of good cheer."

The Royal Eagle forthwith led off his men in the direction of the Pruth, Taras quietly setting himself to inspect the preparations of the others, seeing to the needful ammunition, the necessary rations, and holding everything in readiness for the night's expedition. Watching him thus calmly engaged, one would scarcely have guessed that such a message had just reached him, and that he was expecting a meeting that must stir his troubled heart to its depth. At dusk all was in readiness, the men standing by their horses, listening impatiently for any sign of Julko's return. But the last glimmer of daylight faded, the stars shone forth, and night spread her mantle over the mountains; not a sound yet, save the murmuring whispers in the tall firs and, far off, the hooting of an owl.

"The bird of ill omen!" said the men, with bated breath; "who can tell what may have happened to Julko?"

But Taras heeded them not, lost in thought. The bird's dismal cry had wakened another voice within him; or, rather, it appeared like an echo of his own inner consciousness, which, rising from the depths of his being, quivered through him in awful agony. And then it seemed as though the bird kept crying: "You are about to shed the blood of man--you! you!"

Jemilian went up to him. "They keep us waiting here rather long!" he said anxiously. Taras shivered and stared at him. The man had to repeat his remark.

"Never mind," he now made answer, his voice rising as though to silence that other voice within; and he drew himself up. "Julko may have had to wait before catching him, and the way up the ravine is difficult even in daylight.... But is it that you are afraid of the dark, children that you are! Well, then, light a fire; it will serve at the same time to show off that coward of a commissioner when he does arrive."

The captain's words acted like magic, freeing the souls of these men as from a nightmare; and when, a few minutes later, a great pile of firwood sent up shoots of ruddy flame, spreading light and warmth, their spirits rose mightily. They formed a circle round the welcome fire, and one of their number produced a bagpipe, to the plaintive droning of which they fell to dancing that strangest of reels known throughout the Carpathians, and which, executed by these men and in such circumstances, once more assumed what was, no doubt, its original character--that of a war-dance.