For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

The people, who were in a good frame of mind, after church gathered in groups outside. There was the weather to be talked about, and the sermon, and the lawsuit; concerning the latter, some of those even who bore Taras the deepest grudge were heard to say, "Who can tell but that it may end well after all."

And the most cheerful was Taras himself. He moved about from group to group, kindly words passing to and fro. "Let us trust God," he kept saying; "He has dispelled the fearful cold; at His touch the wrong, too, will vanish. My heart tells me so! The verdict cannot be delayed much longer, we may even hear of it before the day is out."

These words had scarcely fallen from his lips, when that happened which, however frequent in fiction, is rare enough in actual life--his expectation was realised there and then. Up the road from the river a sledge was seen advancing, driven by a peasant and carrying, it appeared, a large bundle of fur-rugs. No human occupant was visible when the vehicle stopped amid the staring peasantry, but the rug-bundle began to move, throwing off its outer covering, a bear-skin; a good-sized sheep-skin peeling off next, revealing as its kernel a funny little hunchbacked figure, an elderly townsman rather shabbily clad. He rose to his feet, inquiring, with a great deal of condescension: "My good people, is the judge of this village anywhere among you?"

The stalwart peasants laughed at the puny creature, and even Taras, moving up to the sledge, could not repress a smile. "And what do you want with him?"

The stranger pursed his mouth; his hand dived into his pocket and produced an alarming pair of spectacles, which he put upon his shrivelled nose, plainly desirous of adding dignity to that feature, and then he said slowly, almost solemnly, "A man like you should say 'your worship' to me! I am Mr. Michael Stupka, head clerk of Dr. Eugene Starkowski."

Taras shook from head to foot, and clutching the man, he stammered, "You have come to tell as the verdict! you have got a letter for me!"

And all the peasants pressed round them. "Ah!" they cried, "we have got the field back, no doubt!... Long live Taras, the judge; he was right after all.... But do read us your letter."

The terrified clerk all this time endeavoured to free himself from the iron grasp that held him as in a vice. "Stand off!" he groaned. "I have brought you the verdict--yes; but ..." He faltered.

Taras grew white. Hardly knowing what he did, he, with his strong arm, lifted the little man right out of the sledge, putting him down on the ground before him. "No," he said hoarsely, "it cannot be! The verdict surely is in our favour?"

"Why, dear me, can I help it?" wailed the dwarfish creature. "Are you savages here, or what! Ah, you are strangling me ... it is not my fault, I am only a clerk and of no consequence whatever ... I assure you! And Dr. Starkowski tried his best. Moreover, the matter need not rest here; don't you know that there is such a thing as an appeal?"