The assistance 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 assurance 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. Wassilj 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 compassionately 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 nobleman 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 basement, 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 assassin," 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."