But if his cogitations were misery, what then must be said of that other one who deprecated Taras's act of surrender, Mr. Wenceslas Hajek, the ex-mandatar of Zulawce? This gentleman quite lately, at the invitation of two constables, had exchanged his princely residence at the castle of Drinkowce for the more modest abode of a prison cell, and this quite in spite of--or, in fact, rather because of--his sudden desire for a change of air in distant parts. It had transpired that he was quietly on to Paris. He had been admitted to bail, when proceedings were commenced against him on account of the discovered perjury, and the constables caught him in the very act of strapping his travelling bag. He was naturally annoyed at being thus overreached; but the virtuous Wanda, who had not intended to accompany him on his travels, most heroically witnessed his discomfiture, watching his being carried off with truly stoical calmness--she might even have been a Spartan matron! "Good riddance," she said quietly, "if they would but keep you in prison; it's the one place for you!" Whereupon he, gathering together the shreds of masculine courage, retorted: "Hell itself would be delightful if I had a chance of going thither without you!" from which amiable passage of arms the reader may infer that this marriage, founded on a love just about equalled by the mutual respect of the contracting couple, had turned out as happily as might have been foreseen, the actual result being that Herr Bogdan von Antoniewicz even now was taking measures to bring his daughter's case into the divorce court. But Mr. Hajek, who, it will be remembered, had prepared against such a contingency, felt no sorrows on this head; and indeed a husband blessed with a wife of the Countess Wanda's description might be tolerably certain that any inquiry into her character would bring to light ample mitigation of any blots in his. But if his domestic concerns sat easy on him, all the greater was his anxiety concerning that other trial, since there was no saying where a close inquiry might not land him, especially as his under-steward, Boleslaw Stipinski, had been so very foolish as to allow himself to be caught. Still, while Boleslaw had a tongue left wherewith to deny all charges as unblushingly as Hajek himself, the mandatar need not give himself up for lost--not while the only man who could witness to most of his crimes was far away, and not likely to be got hold of. What, then, must have been the feelings of the brazen-faced prisoner that evening when a call from the echoing corridor resounded in his cell, and he understood the words: "Look sharp, boys, they are bringing the avenger!" It was the chief warder calling upon his fellow gaolers. There was a running to and fro and a confusion of voices, followed presently by the usual silence of the place. And when the death-like stillness had again settled down the wretched man tried to persuade himself that he had been dreaming; but the early morning dispelled this delusion, his inquiry eliciting a gruff reply from the warder going his rounds. "Taras? Yes, he is on this very floor, more's the pity you cannot communicate with him," said the surly attendant, never perceiving the irony of his speech.

Early in the forenoon the new prisoner was brought to his preliminary examination, Herr von Bauer conducting it in person; and in accordance with his stated intention Taras yielded the fullest information concerning himself and his late doings, but refused persistently whatever might tend to incriminate his followers. He readily mentioned those who had led him into the murder at Borsowka; but not a fact, not a name besides, was to be got out of him. Nor could he be brought to give the slightest clue towards inculpating such of the peasants as had assisted his work by their contributions for the maintenance of his men. "They have aided and abetted a criminal course," he said; "but they did it with the best of intentions for the love of their suffering neighbours, and believing it to be the will of God."

"It might be better for you to give their names," said the governor, not unkindly, "for if you do not, how is it to be proved that you are speaking the truth? These contributions might be a myth, and you be taken for a common bandit after all, who committed murder for the sake of gain. Are you prepared to face this?"

"If the Almighty will thus punish me, I shall bear it," said he, sadly. "He knows I have spoken the truth."

The trial concluded with those questions laid as a duty upon the judge, even with the worst of criminals, ever since the great Empress left her womanly influence upon the Austrian law. "Do you desire spiritual assistance?" inquired the governor.

"Not now," said Taras; "I need no one to come between me and the Almighty. When death is at hand I will thankfully receive the holy sacrament, and I would ask you then to send for the parish priest of Zulawce, Father Leo, who on Palm Sunday gave me his promise to come to me whenever I should need him. He will do so."

"And have you any message to be transmitted to your wife?"

The extreme pallor of his face yielded to a flush which rose to the very roots of his hair. "No," he said faintly. "My wife was right in saying I had forfeited my claims on her and the children. It were sheer goodness and mercy on her part to remember me now. But since it is so, I must not ask for it; I can only wait."

But waiting for the prompting of her love seemed vain. Throughout the dreary tune of the legal proceedings, which lasted nearly four months, neither the pope nor Anusia visited the prisoner. The only human being who during all this sad time requested permission for occasional intercourse with the accused was Dr. Starkowski, who could not visit him in his capacity as legal defender till after the protracted inquiry, but prayed to be admitted as a friend. And he was allowed to see the prisoner occasionally in the presence of the chief warder, finding the unhappy man, for whom he had a truehearted sympathy, strangely quiet. "I have nothing to complain of," Taras would say; "I could not have expected anything else. And, calling to mind the terrible hour when that girl in her agony of remorse confessed to me how I had been deceived, this present time seems happiness in comparison. I am bearing the just punishment for my deeds even on this side of the grave--it is all I must ask for at the hand of man."

"All?" repeated the lawyer, with a peculiar stress on the word, and it seemed to him a very duty of Christian charity to offer to the unhappy man his willingness to plead with Anusia. "It will be no trouble," he added, rather awkwardly; "I have business at Zulawce, and might as well go and see her."