For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

It so happened that Father Leo was with the governor early in the day when the decree arrived; he had come to beg for an interview with the convict, and Dr. Starkowski having been sent for, the three entered the cell together. Taras knew at once what they had come for, his face grew white, but he could stand erect, requiring no support, while the sentence was being imparted to him.

"You will be shot to-morrow morning," said the district governor. "Father Leo will go with you. Your execution shall not be a spectacle for the curious, for which reason I have fixed an early hour, and chosen a place at some distance--a quiet glen on the way to Zablotow, where a deserter was shot some time ago. None but myself and another magistrate will be present, and the fact will be kept secret to-day. Would you desire your wife to accompany you?"

"No," said Taras, "and I pray you not to tell her anything. We have settled everything, and I shall take leave of her and the children this evening just in the usual way, as though we were to meet again to-morrow. I think this will be the best course for her."

And he carried out this pious deception with a wondrous strength of purpose, passing the day in quiet intercourse with her and their children. When she had left in the evening, utterly unconscious of the final parting, he was removed to another cell, lit up and provided with altar and crucifix, to spend his last night in the customary way. Father Leo took his confession, Taras's voice being low and earnest, but he was very calm; and having received absolution and the sacrament at the hands of his friend, he passed the rest of the night in silent prayer.

At daybreak the following morning, when the town yet lay buried in sleep, three carriages drove away in the direction of Zablotow, the governor and a brother magistrate occupying the first, the condemned man, Father Leo, and a couple of soldiers the second, some more soldiers in the third bringing up the rear.

It was a perfect morning of spring. Taras drew deep breaths of the fragrant air, and his eye rested on the blossoming fruit-trees by the way. "God is kind to me," he said, turning to the pope, "letting His sun rise brightly on my dying hour."

"Yes, God is good," said the pope, "He is always kinder than men ..." The poor priest spoke his inmost feeling, but he regretted it almost immediately--was it for him to drop bitterness into the heart of the dying man?

But Taras only shook his head. "It is your grief for me which makes you unjust, Father Leo," he said, quietly. "I have thought deeply these last days, and I see there is much to be thankful for! I may be at rest, too, concerning my poor wife; and as for my children, I am certain you and Anusia will bring them up rightly, and they will live to be good."

"I will not fail in my duty by them; I shall look upon it as a holy vow," said the pope solemnly. And he kept it faithfully. The children of Taras are alive to this day, honoured and loved by their neighbours, richly blessed, too, in outward circumstances; and Wassilj Barabola would long ago have been made judge of his village had he not declined the distinction, remembering the promise he gave to his father.

"And even as regards myself!" said Taras. "All my life long I have endeavoured to farther the Right and promote justice, and if I have done grievous wrong myself, yet I have not failed entirely. But for this strife of mine, oppression would be more rampant than it is now; my own parish would not have received back the field of which we were defrauded, and the wicked mandatar would not have been replaced by a man who means well by the peasants. So you see, dear friend, the grace of God has been with me after all! I have not lived in vain; as for my evil deeds, I now pay the penalty, as is right and meet. Why should I complain!"