Father Leo was dismayed: "And this man our Taras suffers near him! Is he not aware that Lazarko is a murderer? Why the fellow shot the mandatar of his village!"
"He did. But only because the mandatar dishonoured the girl he loved."
"That is true. I knew the parties, Zolince being but a couple of miles from my late cure. The mandatar was a wretch, the girl honest, and the youth had borne a good name. But to commit murder is an awful thing nevertheless, and Lazarko, so far from in any way expiating his guilt, made it worse by escaping into the mountains, where he joined the band of Green Giorgi, thus becoming a brigand--a 'hajdamak.' I trust Taras was not aware of that!"
"He was," said Jemilian, "for Lazarko came to us straight from the outlaws. And since the matter has escaped me, I may as well tell your reverence the plain facts of it, for you are Taras's friend. We knew well enough, on going beyond the Red Hollow into the heart of the mountains, that we must fall in with some 'hajdamaks'; for the Carpathians are their natural haunt, and not all the Whitecoats[[4]] of the empire will be able to say a word against it. We had no fear; four of us, and carrying arms, we were a match for the devil if need be. Besides, it is well known that the hajdamaks hardly ever attack a peasant or a Jew; they are the sworn enemies of the Polish nobles only, and of the Whitecoats if driven to it. So we went ahead fearlessly, and our first encounter with one of their kind was not calculated to terrify us--a beardless milksop, half-starved and frozen. Our watch-fire brought him near, and he begged humbly for leave to stay. But Taras stepped up to him: 'Let us first see if you deserve it!' he said sternly. 'Is your mother alive?' 'She is dead.' 'Then answer me truly, as you would wish her to be at rest in her grave. I presume even a fellow like you will own the sanctity of that oath! Why did you take to the mountains?' 'Well, just because of my mother's death; my father married again, and the step-mother turned him against me. I, the heir to the farm, had to do the meanest labour, and was treated like a dog besides. So I ran away!' 'This is no reason for taking to the mountains! Why did you not try life in another village, eating your bread honestly, as the servant of some respectable peasant?' The fellow looked abashed. 'I had heard of the merry life up here,' he said at last. 'Away with you!' cried Taras, 'it is mere laziness and greed of enjoyment that made you a hajdamak! Away!' And his look was such that the fellow made the greatest haste to escape. A few days later we had a more serious encounter. We were deep in the heart of the mountains, not far from the Marmaros, resting one night in a forsaken cattlefold. Our fire was lit, when suddenly an armed band appeared, headed by a handsome young man, with a finely-twisted moustache, carrying the white bunda[[5]] carelessly on his shoulders, with the green, silver-broidered jerkin beneath...."
"Green Giorgi himself," cried the pope, crossing himself involuntarily.
"Yes, himself! Your reverence will be aware of the stories concerning him--that he has power to show himself in different places simultaneously, and that he knows men and all about them, though he has never set eyes on them before. How that should be I cannot tell, but he certainly knew us. 'I make you welcome, Taras!' he said, condescendingly. 'I intend to start a-hunting tomorrow, and rejoice to fall in with the best bear-hunter of the country!' But Taras did not accept the proffered hand. 'If you know me so well, Giorgi,' he said, 'then you must be aware, also, that I never shrink from saying the truth. We are but four of us, and you about three times the number; we have but our guns, and you, I see, carry pistols besides. If you wish to attack us, we are lost. But nevertheless, I tell you, I shall neither hunt with you to-morrow, nor suffer your company a moment longer than I can help it this night. A man like you must poison the very air I breathe,' Giorgi grew white. 'Why?' he hissed, snatching at his girdle, where a pair of silver-mounted pistols were to be seen. 'I am not bound further to explain my opinion,' replied Taras; 'to be a hajdamak is a miserable trade, yet there are reasons which may force an honest man to take to it. You have no such excuse. You are a mere deserter from the ranks of the Whitecoats. And you carry on this sad trade after a cruel and shameful fashion besides. When the peasants of Roskow, last autumn, called upon you to help them against their hard-hearted lord of the manor, you were not satisfied with plundering this Polish tyrant's property, but you committed robbery in the village besides; you not merely killed the tyrant, who deserved it, but you killed the innkeeper, a poor Jew, whose only crime consisted in having saved up a little money, which roused your cupidity. I could lay many similar charges at your door, but I daresay this will suffice.' But, so far from sufficing, it was more than the ruffian could brook. He drew his pistol, foaming with rage. But we three--Sefko, Wassilj, and I--had cocked our guns at him, his own people standing by gloomily. He would have discharged his pistol, nevertheless, had not one of his party made a dash at him, whispering something we did not understand. He gave a scowling look at his followers and turned to go. 'You coward!' cried Taras, 'an honest man's bullet is too good for you!' At daybreak we learned the reason of his yielding, and, indeed, had guessed as much--he could not rely on his men. They had joined him, believing him to be an honest hajdamak, and not a murdering brigand...."
"No hajdamak can be honest!" interrupted Father Leo, sharply.
"Well, honest, as the saying is," continued Jemilian, a little abashed. "I was going on to say that at daybreak two of his men, Lazarko and Iwan, came to us, assuring us they had thus believed in him, and entreating Taras to take them under his protection, as they were tired of the wicked life. He listened to Lazarko but not to Iwan, although the latter swore by his mother's grave that he also had intended to be an honest hajdamak...."
"Honest! honest!" broke in the pope once more. "I wish you would not thus use the word."
"Well, honest, as people take it," rejoined Jemilian. "I meant to say that Iwan had become a hajdamak only because he had shot a tax-gatherer who was unlawfully going to distrain the goods of his mother, a poor widow."