"No!" she faltered.
"But you were here three weeks ago when this wretch wronged you?"
"Yes!"
"How dare you!" cried the baron, with flashing eyes. "Oh, God! how should I--look at my grey hairs, man!"
"Silence!" returned Taras. "What have you to say, Peter--does this girl speak the truth?"
"She does--old Stephen told me."
"The Lord have mercy on me!" groaned the doomed man. "Taras, have pity on my age. I have but little money in the house, but what there is, take it all--only spare me!"
"I am not a robber, but an instrument of God's justice," replied Taras, solemnly. "It is very evident that you have deserved death amply. If you would recommend your soul to the Judge above, I will give you ten minutes."
"Spare me, for mercy's sake! Call any of the peasants, there is not a man in the village but would stand by me."
"We have had sufficient witness. Say your prayers."