His friends opposed him, none more eagerly than Simeon himself. But Taras was not to be moved, and since his enemies failed not to second him, the resolution was carried, Simeon being chosen by a majority of votes. He accepted the office, declaring that he would hold it until his friend returned.
A few days later Taras again stood in Starkowski's chambers. The lawyer gave him the memorial to the Emperor, and a private letter addressed to a friend of his. "Go by this man's advice in everything," he said; "he is a man of high standing at Vienna, and will counsel you well, being himself of this country."
"Very well," said Taras; "I will do as you wish me; otherwise I should have gone straight to the Emperor's. No doubt every child at Vienna could show me his house."
"But you don't expect the children at Vienna to understand your Ruthenese!" cried the lawyer; adding, with a sigh, "God knows what will become of you!"
"I have no fear," said Taras, solemnly. "How should a man fail to gain his end who tries to do what is right?"
CHAPTER VII.
[PUT NOT YOUR TRUST IN PRINCES.]
This had happened early in April. Taras had taken leave of his wife with the promise of letting her hear as often as possible, and he kept his word faithfully during the first stages of his absence. As early as the third week a letter arrived, dated from Lemberg, and written for Taras by a fellow-villager, a certain Constantino Turenko, who, as a soldier, had had the rare luck, in the estimation of the Zulawce folk, of rising to the dignity of a corporal. "Since my friend Taras is unable to send you a letter of his own contriving," this military genius wrote, "and since I am as clever at it as the colonel of the regiment himself, I send you word that he hopes you are well, as this leaves him at present. I have shown him all over the place; he never saw such a town in his life. You had better tell my people and Kasia, who used to be sweet on me, that they may expect me home in the summer on furlough. I shall bring my regimentals--won't they just be proud of me! Everybody says I am a fine soldier." Poor Anusia was thankful for even that much of news of her husband. In May another letter arrived from Cracow, indited by a musical hero of some church choir, also stating that Taras was well, but adding he was running short of money, and that he desired a remittance under his, the singer's, address. Father Leo, however, knew better than to carry out this injunction. It was the last news of the absent traveller which reached the village.
They waited, but the summer came and not a word of Taras. "It is a long day's journey to Vienna," the pope would say to Anusia, "and he might not easily come across a man there who understands the Ruthenese, and is not too grand to write a letter for him, so we must not be anxious."
But when even the harvest was over without bringing a sign of life, Father Leo himself grew uneasy, and was less confident in calming Anusia. And the poor thing, besides her waking fears, was harassed by nightly dreams of the most vivid apprehension, the least appalling of her visions being those in which she beheld her Taras captivated by some pretty Hungarian, but alive at least; but more often she would see him dragging along the weary roads utterly starving, and sometimes her dreams showed him dead in a ditch. With these tales of woe she came to the manse almost daily, and Father Leo did his best to console her. The pretty Hungarian he found it easiest to dispose of, assuring the distracted wife that Taras's way did not lead him through Hungary at all; and, as for the starving, he believed it unlikely, considering the two hundred florins the traveller had taken with him, but death certainly was a contingency against which no hapless mortal was proof. And when this latter vision mournfully overbore the previous ones, the poor woman lost all her youthful energy, fading away with her grief, and Father Leo, for very pity of her, wrote to Dr. Starkowski, imploring him to procure some news. The good-natured man readily promised to make inquiries at Vienna, but week after week passed and nothing was heard, nor did the lost one himself return.