"But what is it?" said the pope; "I am at a loss to know."
"Why, what should it be but this cursed lawsuit," sobbed the passionate woman, clenching her fists. "Would I could strangle the mandatar and all the tribe of lawyers along with him!"
The pope rebuked her, nor did her explanation satisfy him. "It cannot be the lawsuit that so weighs on him," he said; "for he speaks about it calmly, hoping for a favourable verdict from the court of appeal. I do not see what can thus oppress him, unless it be his troubled relations both with the mandatar and with the people, which are improving daily though, for I am doing my best to heal the breach," he added, with some complacency.
The honest man had not the faintest idea that, however successful he might be, he was only lessening his friend's outward burden, that which lay on his shoulders so to speak, and which he had strength enough to bear, whereas there was a burden crushing his heart and leaving him utterly helpless in his silent despair; for Taras kept his deep trouble hidden even from the eyes of the priest, his spiritual guide, feeling, perhaps, that the fundamental difference of their natures must keep them apart on the soul's deepest issues. "I should only sadden him," he said, "and make him angry; but I could never convince him, nor could he talk me out of it. No one could, for the matter of that, not the Almighty Himself, I fear; for if He can look on quietly when wrong is being done here below, I do not see that even He could do away with the consequences!"
Matters had come to an ill pass with Taras even then. He had grown calm outwardly, but the fearful thought which had overpowered him so utterly on his first learning that the court's decision had gone against the parish had not left him. If it was not added to in these months of weary waiting, while the verdict was being reconsidered, neither did it lessen. And as he went on with his duties day after day, waiting for an answer from the court of appeal, he was like some traveller traversing an endless desert beneath an angry sky. The air is heavy, and the thunderous clouds sink lower, he hastening onward through the friendless waste; onward, though the storm will break and the flashes of heaven are charged with death. No shelter for him anywhere; on, on, he hastens, though his doom await him--no hope, unless a strong wind from the healthy east be sent to drive the dark clouds asunder ... But how should he hope for such kindly blast while the hot air is heavy about him, and cloud draws cloud athwart the heavens? He can but bear up and continue, a weary traveller, utterly hopeless, and conscious of great trouble ahead!
CHAPTER VI.
[APPEALING UNTO CÆSAR.]
Autumn had come; again the season was cold and gloomy. Taras had waited patiently, but he had not the courage to face the long, dull twilight of winter if he must pass it nursing the one desperate thought. So he went to the pope and begged him to indite an inquiry to the lawyer.
Father Leo looked him in the face anxiously. The man appeared calm. "You are thinking too much of the law-suit!" he said, nevertheless.
"Not more than need be," replied Taras. "I have long settled in my mind all concerning that question."