"Yes, I am Waldemar Nordeck, and immediately upon my return to my estates I am arrested as a villain. This is a very agreeable welcome!"
He glanced over at the sofa where the assessor sat, stiff and motionless as a statue. His mouth was wide open, his arms hung powerless at his side, and he stared at the young landlord as if bereft of his senses.
"This is a very unpleasant misunderstanding," said the superintendent, in extreme embarrassment. "It grieves me deeply, Herr Nordeck, that it should occur in my house. The assessor will regret infinitely--"
The poor assessor! He was so completely overwhelmed that strength was not left him to apologize. He had threatened to put into irons and transport as a criminal to L---- the lord and master of Villica, the millionnaire, the man whom the governor had charged him to treat with peculiar respect if he should happen to return!
Fortunately, Waldemar seemed to have forgotten that the assessor still existed. He introduced his companion to the superintendent and his daughter.
"This is Doctor Fabian, my friend and tutor. We saw the castle illuminated, and heard that a large party was in progress there. As I have no acquaintance with my mother's guests, and as my sudden arrival might interrupt the festivities, I preferred to call here and await the breaking up of the company. And, besides, I wished to speak with you, Herr Frank, in regard to your letter, which reached me only a few days ago. I was travelling, and it was sent after me from place to place. Can we be alone for half an hour?"
Frank opened the study-door, and invited his landlord to enter.
Waldemar turned at the threshold, and said, "Please wait for me, Doctor Fabian; I shall soon return." Then bowing to Margaret, but ignoring the assessor, he entered the study with the superintendent.
"Herr Assessor," said Margaret, in a low voice, approaching the unfortunate representative of the public police, "I congratulate you upon your success; it must pave the way to your appointment as government counsellor."
"O, Fräulein Frank!" groaned the assessor.
"You will doubtless report to his Excellency, the Governor, the result of your investigations?"
"How can you be so cruel, Fräulein Margaret?"
"It is very true I have not the sagacity of an official detective," continued the young girl, unmercifully; "and besides, who but an expert could have seen at a glance that our landlord has a face which clearly stamps him as a conspirator?"
The assessor could endure no more. Derision from these lips was harder than all else he had to bear. He stammered an apology to Doctor Fabian, and pleading indisposition, hastened away.
"Fräulein Frank," observed Doctor Fabian, in his usual timid manner, and yet in a compassionate tone, "that young gentleman seems to be of a somewhat eccentric nature. Is he--" He touched his forehead significantly.
Margaret laughed. "O, no, doctor. He is not idiotic; he is only ambitious of promotion, and he thought to attain his end by the arrest of a pair of conspirators, whom he imagined he had found in you and Herr Nordeck."
The doctor shook his head gravely. "Poor man!" he said; "there must be something morbid in his nature. I do not believe he will be promoted."
"Of course he will not!" said Margaret, with great positiveness; "the government has too much good sense to promotehim."
It was noonday. The festivities at the castle had been continued until a late hour, and the greater number of the guests had remained over night. Count Morynski and his daughter tarried after all the others had left, as politeness required that they should stay to welcome the young landlord. The count's acquaintance with his nephew was so slight that he cut short his first greetings and congratulations, and Wanda felt that she had no right to assert the claims of relationship with one whom she had so deeply and so justly offended.
The princess was alone with her two sons; she sat upon a sofa in the green drawing-room; Waldemar occupied a seat opposite her, and Leo stood leaning over the back of his brother's chair. They seemed an affectionate, harmonious family group.
"No, Waldemar, I cannot forgive you," said the mother, in a half reproachful tone; "it was unpardonable in you to go first to the superintendent's house, as if your own castle was not at any moment open to you; as if it would not have given me pleasure to introduce you to my guests! I cannot accept the pretext that your sudden intrusion might have disconcerted me or the company."
"Then let my disinclination to enter a circle of strangers be a sufficient reason."
"Do you still indulge your old antipathy for society? We must then see less company at Villica."
"Do not change your mode of life on my account, I implore you. But you must excuse me if I do not often appear in your drawing-room. I have in some measure learned to adapt myself to social requirements, but I am never at my ease in large companies."
The princess smiled. Waldemar's unsocial disposition harmonized perfectly with her wishes. She saw that, in spite of the outward improvement these years of culture and travel had made in her eldest son, his nature remained fundamentally the same, and that his exterior had undergone no great transformation. His tall figure, towering above that of Leo, who was also above the average height, was no longer awkward and ungainly; the immaturity of boyhood had given place to a ripe, vigorous manhood. The plain, irregular features had won a grave, self-contained expression; the sudden bursts of passion which had once disfigured them were no longer visible. The blonde hair--"that tawny, yellow mane," as Wanda had been wont to call it--no longer fell in disordered masses over the forehead; it was always carefully arranged, and parted back from the handsome, commanding brow that arched over the deep-blue eyes, whose usual glance was sombre, but which, when lighted up by some momentary excitement or enthusiasm, glowed with a strange lustre, and transfigured the whole face. This broad, high forehead, these deep, earnest eyes, were the only beauty nature had bestowed upon this rugged face, and they had come to the young man through his Polish lineage. But although Waldemar Nordeck had seen much of the world, although the old diffidence and uncouthness had vanished, although his mind was enlarged and improved by years of study and travel, he was no drawing-room knight, no man to win hearts by grace of person or fascination of manner. There was a reserve and distance in his bearing which repelled intimate acquaintance, and forbade anything like familiarity.
The contrast between the two brothers was more marked than ever. Leo was no longer the boy of eighteen years, whom Herr Witold, much as he disliked his mother and his race, had declared "handsome as a picture;" he was a rare type of that Polish beauty which, although exceptional in men of the Slavonic race, appears in rare perfection when it exists at all. He possessed every endowment of grace and fascination of person and manner which had been denied his elder brother. He inherited his mother's refined features, her splendid hazel eyes, which flamed up at the least excitement, and her dark, wavy hair, which in its rich luxuriance formed so pleasing a contrast to the fair, open forehead.
A halo of romance and poetry seemed to encircle his princely form, which united the elegance of the high-born gentleman with the graces of culture and society. Leo Zulieski realized the highest ideal of manly beauty and chivalry.
"And so you have really brought your former tutor along with you," said the young prince. "I wonder at your taste, Waldemar. I was glad enough to be rid of mine, and I would not for the world have taken him with me to the university or upon my travels."
Waldemar's face lighted up, as it always did when he spoke of his tutor, for whom he cherished a profound respect and admiration.
"You must not look upon Doctor Fabian as a mere teacher, Leo; he now devotes himself exclusively to historical researches. Poverty alone made him a tutor; he has always been a scholar in heart and soul, but teaching was the only means he had of turning his knowledge to practical account."
"His manners have all the dryness and pedantry of a book-worm," interposed the princess.
"You do not know him," returned Waldemar, almost angrily. "He has a future before him of which you little dream."
The princess thought best to turn the conversation. "Leo takes great pleasure in the prospect of being your guide and companion in the chase," she said. "The forests around Villica offer such attractions that I cannot expect to have you in the house a great deal for the next few weeks."
Waldemar glanced up at Leo, who stood leaning against his chair. "I only fear, Leo," he said, "that our manner of hunting may prove very different; even as a huntsman you will still remain an elegant gentleman, who can come directly from the forest to the parlor; but I must follow my game through almost impenetrable thickets, and often enough through swamp and moor. Perhaps this will not suit you."
The young prince laughed. "It will prove a more serious matter here in our Polish forests than in your peaceful hunting-grounds at Altenhof. You will soon be able to judge for yourself if a hunter can come off from a conflict with wolves in a suitable condition for thesalon. I have had plenty of adventures; and as Wanda is a passionate huntress--But do you know that she is here in Villica?"
"The Countess Morynski? Ah, yes! I have heard so."
"Countess Morynski!" echoed the princess, reproachfully. "She is your cousin, Waldemar, and she will soon stand in a nearer relationship to you. Leo, I think you have no desire to conceal from your brother a fact which is still kept secret from strangers?
"Certainly not," replied the young prince, eagerly. "You must know, Waldemar, that I am betrothed to Wanda?"
"Betrothed--indeed!" replied Waldemar, without the slightest emotion, and with no change in his half-recumbent posture.
"You do not seem at all surprised," said Leo, somewhat hurt by his brother's indifference.
"O, not at all!" returned Waldemar, carelessly. "I think you always loved your cousin, and I imagine that you have met no opposition either from our mother or from Wanda's father. I wish you happiness, Leo," he added, extending his hand.
Leo grasped the proffered hand with genuine cordiality. He had feared to broach the subject, knowing that he and Wanda had wantonly trifled with Waldemar's feelings; but the composure with which his brother learned of his engagement reassured him and his mother.
"You will see Wanda and her father to-day," said the princess, turning to Waldemar. "Their estate lies so near us that our intercourse is quite frequent; you must accompany us there very soon. But how do you like Villica? You have remained away from it a long time. When we were at C---- that summer, you promised to come the next spring, and four years have passed since then."
"It was my intention to come sooner," said Waldemar, as he rose and walked to the large bay-window. "But you are right; I am almost a stranger here. I shall have to wander over the whole estate before I feel at all at home."
"The whole estate?" returned the princess, gravely. "I hardly think you will find much to interest you excepting the forests. The superintendent will report to you upon the condition of the estate. He has no doubt informed you of his intention to resign?" She asked the question with apparent unconcern, and in no way betrayed the anxiety with which she awaited the answer.
"Yes," said Waldemar, gazing absently out of the window, "he is going about New Year's."
"I regret his departure on your account, and all the more from the fact that I am its indirect cause. Frank's excellent management is conceded by all, and it will be difficult to fill his place. His services, however, involve the continual absence of the landlord, for he will submit to no dictation. His subordinates complain bitterly of his imperiousness. I myself have felt aggrieved by it, and have been forced to remind him that Villica Castle and its mistress were not subject to his absolute control. This has led to his resignation. The question now arises, Whose part will you take? I think the superintendent will willingly remain, if you allow him to continue sole master. I, of course, shall submit to your decision."
"I came only last night," returned Waldemar, "and it is impossible for me to fully understand the state of affairs so soon. If Frank wants to leave, I shall not hinder him, and if a misunderstanding with you is the cause of his resignation, I hope that you do not harbor a thought that I would allow the superintendent to prevail against my mother."
The princess felt greatly relieved. She had feared that during Waldemar's brief stay at the superintendent's, some disclosures had been made prejudicial to her interests. The young landlord's manner indicated nothing of the kind. It was evidently a matter of small importance to him whether the superintendent went or stayed, and his native sense of propriety would urge him to take his mother's part without investigation.
"I knew that I could depend upon you, Waldemar," she said, graciously. All was turning out according to her wishes. "But why should we at the outset fall to discussing dry business details, as if there were nothing better at our command? I wished to say-- Ah, come in, Bronislaw," she added, turning to her brother, who stood in the doorway with his daughter.
At these words, Waldemar also turned around. His first emotion in glancing at the young girl who stood opposite him, was profound astonishment. He had known Wanda as a girl of sixteen years,--as a charming child, rather than a woman. This form was new to him; the early promise of uncommon beauty had been more than fulfilled. Wanda's beauty did not lie in regularity of features, which were of the Slavonic rather than of the Greek or Roman type; but the fresh, rosy countenance possessed an indefinable charm that did not consist in perfection of outline, but in expression.
The deep-black hair, not arranged after the reigning mode, but in a fashion of Wanda's own, which displayed its wonderful beauty and luxuriance, set off more strikingly the exceeding fairness of the complexion; but the great charm of this unique face lay, after all, in the eyes,--large, dark, and lustrous, now veiled by their long, silken lashes, now opening wide and full, with an expression changing with every new and varied emotion. These eyes now revealed something more than childish arrogance and mischief. Whether veiled in dreamy repose, or lighted up by glowing enthusiasm, they remained unfathomable and dangerous. They had a spell which could irresistibly ensnare and steadfastly retain, and the young Countess Morynski had often tried this power, of which she was fully conscious.
"Your sudden arrival has surprised us all," the count remarked to Waldemar; "and you found your house full of guests. We intended to leave early this morning, but being informed of your presence here, we remained to greet you."
"Welcome home, Cousin Waldemar!" added Wanda, extending her hand with a charming smile, and with the most graceful ingenuousness.
Waldemar bowed very formally and coldly to his beautiful cousin. He seemed neither to have seen the extended hand nor to have heard the courteous words, for, without making the slightest answer, he turned to Count Morynski.
"I sincerely hope I do not hasten your departure, Herr Count. I as well as you am my mother's guest, and both are equally welcome to remain."
The count was agreeably surprised by these gracious words; he had not thought Waldemar could be so courteous. He replied politely. Wanda stood opposite the young landlord like one stricken dumb with astonishment. She had thought proper to meet her cousin with the graceful ease of a lady well versed in the ways of good society, and to spare him all painful recollections; and now she saw that her urbanity was not accepted, that her magnanimity was repelled. The look of icy indifference Waldemar gave her showed that he must have forgotten the old affection, but that he had not forgiven the old insult, and that he was now taking his revenge.
The conversation soon became general. There was no lack of subjects. They talked of Waldemar's travels, of his return, of Villica and its environs. But there was no familiarity; it was like talking to a stranger. This scion of a plebeian race did not belong to the Zulieski and Morynski circle; all felt this, and the remarks assumed a corresponding tone. The count could not bring himself to accost his sister's elder son with the familiar "thou" which he naturally used in addressing the younger, and Waldemar invariably saluted his uncle as "Herr Count." He was rather silent and reserved, but all trace of his former diffidence and embarrassment had vanished.
As it was autumn, the conversation naturally turned upon the chase, which was the chief amusement in that region. The ladies were not strangers to this sport, and eagerly joined in its discussion. Leo having highly extolled several rifles found in the deceased Nordeck's large collection of weapons, the gentlemen at length left the room to examine them.
"The same Waldemar as of old," the princess remarked, gazing after them. "He does not manifest the least emotion, excepting when matters connected with the chase are discussed. Nothing else seems to interest him. Do you find him changed, Wanda?"
"Yes; he has acquired great self-control."
"Heaven be praised! His manners, too, are wonderfully improved. I can now introduce him to my friends without fear of incurring their ridicule, and without dreading an outburst of rage from him at every harmless observation. He doubtless keeps his explosions of temper for his subordinates."
Wanda made no reply; she had thrown herself into an easy-chair, and was toying with its silken tassels.
"His manner of arrival was a genuine Nordeck trick," continued the princess, in an annoyed tone. "He left the post-chaise at the last station, and came on foot like some penniless adventurer. On seeing the castle illuminated, and hearing that we had company, he went to the superintendent's house for fear that we might inveigle him into taking part in our festivities. Late at night he came here with the doctor, made himself known to Paul, and was conducted at once to his apartments. His orders were that I should not be disturbed, but I was informed of his arrival five minutes afterwards; my servants are better trained than he imagines. As his commands were positive, the only alternative left me was to ignore his presence and allow myself to appear greatly surprised the next morning."
"And the surprise made it necessary for us to remain," said Wanda, impatiently. "I hope that papa will soon return, and that we may leave immediately."
"But will you not stay to dinner?"
"No, aunt; I wish to go at once. Do you think it is pleasant for me to remain here and be ignored by Waldemar Nordeck, as I have been for the last half hour? He never spoke to me once; he did not even answer me."
The princess smiled. "Well, you can afford him this petty revenge at your first meeting; the old grudge still remains, but it will wear away upon longer acquaintance. What do you think of his personal appearance? I consider him very much improved."
"He is just as repulsive as ever!" exclaimed Wanda, passionately, "and even more so, for now he studies to repel. But, in spite of everything, for some undefined reason, perhaps it is on account of his really fine eyes and forehead, he no longer suffers from comparison with Leo."
The same observation had forced itself upon the mother, as her two sons stood side by side. Although the beauty of the younger son was unquestionable, and the elder had very slight claims to good looks, still there was in Waldemar a certain something which usurped the place of every mere personal advantage, and the mother was compelled to admit the fact.
"Such tall, well-developed figures always possess an advantage," she said. "They make a favorable impression at first, but that is all. Mind and character are never associated with them."
"Never?" asked Wanda, with a peculiar emphasis. "Are you perfectly sure?"
The princess looked at her niece in surprise, and Wanda continued,--
"We both know the designs now on foot at Villica, and how inconvenient and dangerous to our purposes it would be to have Waldemar give evidence of the possession of mind and character. Let us be cautious! This outward composure, and above all this forehead, do not please me."
"Will you allow my ability to read my son's true character?" replied the princess, in a tone of self-conscious superiority; "or do you credit your twenty years with a greater discernment than mine, which more than double them, can claim? Waldemar is aNordech--that tells the whole story."
"And you have always judged him from this standpoint. In other respects he may be the living image of his father, but he has inherited that forehead from his mother. Do you consider it impossible for him to have inherited some of your mental traits?"
"I do!" replied the princess, emphatically. "Leo inherits all that could be transmitted of my nature. I am at a loss to comprehend how you can infer intellect and character in Waldemar from his stubborn persistence in an old rancor; to me it proves just the reverse. Any other young man would have thanked you for seeking to help him avoid a painful recollection, and would have met his brother's affianced bride with at least an attempt at courtesy--"
"Does Waldemar already know?" interrupted the young girl.
"Certainly; Leo himself informed him."
"And how did he receive the news?"
"With the most perfect indifference. He has entirely overcome his boyish fancy for you, but the old resentment for an imagined injury still remains. And you wish me to accept this obstinate, revengeful feeling as a token of character?"
"Certainly not!" replied Wanda, starting up impatiently; "but I will no longer expose myself to his studied neglect; you must excuse us, dear aunt.I, at least, shall not remain here any longer, and papa will hardly allow me to depart alone. We shall go within an hour."
In vain the princess protested. She once more had evidence that her niece, as well as herself, knew how to carry out her wishes, and that Count Morynski was inexcusably weak in all attempts at opposition to his daughter's plans.
Leo's wishes and entreaties, joined to those of his mother, were alike unavailing; neither could his evident displeasure move Wanda in the least. Ere the expiration of the hour the young lady had named as the term of her visit, the Morynski carriage bore the father and daughter back to Radowicz.
Weeks rolled away, but the arrival of the young landlord had produced little change in Villica. His old passion for the chase seemed to have again taken full possession of him: he was seldom found in the castle, his days being mostly passed in roaming about the forests. He did not appear regularly at meals, his jaunts often taking him so far from home that he was obliged to lunch at some forester's place or farm-house. He usually returned late, and spent the evening in his own apartments with Doctor Fabian, the only person whose society he sought. He entered his mother's drawing-room only at rare intervals, and always reluctantly.
Leo had ceased accompanying his brother to the chase; the two could not hunt together, their manner of engaging in the sport was so different. In hunting, as in everything else, the young prince was fiery and venturesome, but not persistent; he shot whatever came in his way, he was deterred by no obstacle, and danger lent new zest to his enjoyment. Waldemar, on the other hand, followed the game with tireless energy, never thinking of food or rest, and imposing hardships upon himself which only an iron frame could endure. Leo thought such persistence wearisome and useless, and when he found that his brother preferred to hunt alone, he only too gladly allowed him that privilege.
Although Waldemar saw and conversed daily with his mother and brother, he could not be regarded as one of the family. His unconquerable reserve and his aversion to familiar intercourse increased rather than diminished. After a stay of several weeks at Villica, he was not one step nearer the princess or Leo than on the day of his arrival. This state of things was highly gratifying to the Princess Zulieski; Waldemar's daily absence perfectly coincided with her hopes and plans, and he was far more affable than she had expected. He even carried his courtesy so far as to call occasionally at his uncle's castle, and intercourse between the two estates became more frequent than ever. The count and his daughter often drove over to Villica, although they seldom met its master.
One thing only marred these very pleasant and satisfactory relations: this was the coldness and evident hostility between Waldemar and Wanda. The princess, after many fruitless attempts to act as mediator, concluded to let "the two obstinate children" have their own way, so long at least as there was no open quarrel between them. Waldemar evidently made an effort to be gracious and amiable to his uncle, and he gratified all his relatives in one particular, if in no other,--he kept away from them as much as possible.
The princess had made arrangements for another of her large hunting-parties, which brought together the Polish gentry of that region far and near. The invitations had all been accepted, and the party would be larger than usual. Waldemar having been consulted in regard to the arrangements and invitations, had begged his mother to assume the entire responsibility, his acquaintance in the neighborhood being limited, and his tastes being averse to these large social gatherings. The princess, although full of polite regrets at the loss of his assistance, was really in her element; she dearly loved to rule in all matters both great and small, and wanted no rival near her throne.
The morning of the eventful day dawned cloudy and threatening; when the sky at length cleared, so that the hunt could be safely decided upon, the hour was unusually late. The princess and Leo stood in the centre of the large reception-room to receive the farewell greetings of the party, and as the young prince assisted his mother in doing the honors of the house, a stranger would have taken him for the master of Villica. Waldemar meanwhile remained unnoticed at a window, in earnest conversation with Doctor Fabian. He seemed to regard himself as merely his mother's guest, and as he claimed no deference for his real position, he received none. He was sure of a respectful greeting as he came and went, and was listened to attentively whenever he chose to take part in the conversation; but he was landlord of Villica only in name. None attempted to approach him familiarly, or to pierce the mail of his obstinate reserve. There seemed to be a mutual understanding; the visitors took no more notice of him than he of them.
"Pray do not ride in your usual reckless manner, Leo," said the princess, as she took leave of her younger son with a fond embrace. "You and Wanda rival each other in adventurous daring; be cautious, I beseech you." She then turned to her elder son, and offering him her hand as a mere friend might do, she added, "Good-bye, Waldemar; you are no doubt in your element to-day."
"Indeed I am not," he replied, abruptly; "large, fashionable hunting-parties are not to my taste. The hunters and beaters go before these fine ladies and gentlemen, and run down the game for them, so that neither effort nor skill is required."
"Waldemar is happy only when alone with his beloved rifle," said Leo, laughing. "I really believe he dragged me through swamps and underbrush, and exposed me to hunger and thirst and all sorts of disagreeable things, merely to get rid of me as soon as possible. I am no novice at hunting, but I soon tire of the hardships Waldemar calls pleasure."
"I told you beforehand that my mode of hunting would not suit you," replied Waldemar indifferently, as the party left the room.
A portion of the hunters had already assembled upon the broad lawn in front of the castle; among them were Count Morynski and his daughter. The gentlemen were in raptures over Herr Nordeck's fine saddle-horse, which had arrived two days before. All agreed that the young landlord had shown great taste and judgment in its selection.
"A splendid animal!" said the count, as he patted the slender neck of the horse, which stood patient under his caresses. "Waldemar, is this really the wild Norman you used to ride in C----? He was then so dangerous that your groom was always in mortal terror when holding him by the bit."
"Norman was very young then," replied Waldemar, coming up with his brother; "he had just begun to wear the saddle. He has since become accustomed to control, and I myself am not so adventurous a rider as at that time. You can ask Leo about the animal's docility; he attempted to mount Norman yesterday."
"He is a demon of a horse!" exclaimed Leo, excitedly. "I believe you have trained him to act like a mad creature whenever any one else sets foot in the stirrup. But I will conquer him yet!"
"You had better not try it; Norman will obey no one but me."
Leo's face glowed as he met Wanda's eyes, which imperiously commanded him to refute this assertion. The glance stung him, and he said, impetuously,--
"Norman's obstinacy is the result of your own training, Waldemar. I have not taught my Vaillant any such tricks," he added, pointing to a handsome sorrel nag, held by his groom, "but you might succeed no better with him than I did with Norman. You have never cared to make the attempt; will you do so to-day?"
"No," replied Waldemar, coolly. "Your horse is very unruly at times; you indulge him in all sorts of antics, and in a stubbornness which I could not endure. I should be obliged to misuse him, and I would not like to treat an animal you are fond of in such a manner."
"You had better make the experiment, Herr Nordeck," said Wanda. She had never said "Cousin Waldemar" but once. "Indeed, I believe you ridenearlyas well as Leo."
"I thank you for the compliment, Countess Morynski," he replied, bowing profoundly.
"The Germans are very fair riders," she added, in a still more irritating tone; "but in this accomplishment, as in most others, they are far behind our Polish gentlemen."
Nordeck's only answer was to say to his brother, "Will you resign your Vaillant to me for this one day, Leo? Are you willing to expose him to hardship, perhaps to danger?"
"Todanger!" reiterated Leo, with flaming eyes.
"Do not insist upon it, Herr Nordeck," interposed the count; "the horse is wild and unmanageable, and Leo has accustomed him to all sorts of mad freaks and rash ventures, which a strange rider, even though the most expert, cannot understand. He will be sure to throw you."
"But if Herr Nordeck is willing to run the risk, let him do so!" said Wanda, obstinately.
The count gave his daughter a reproving glance, but Waldemar took no seeming notice of her words. "Have no fear, Count Morynski," he said; "I shall ride the horse. Your daughter wishes to see me thrown: Imayallow her that pleasure. Come, Leo."
"I entreat you to desist, Wanda," whispered the count. "Waldemar hates you bitterly enough already, and still you go on irritating him at every opportunity."
The young countess stroked the folds of her velvet riding-dress with her whip. "You mistake, papa," she said; "Herr Nordeck does not allow himself to be irritated,--least of all byme."
"Then why do you continually attempt it?"
Wanda made no reply. Her father was right; she neglected no opportunity of taunting the young man, who had once flown into a passion at every trifling word, but whose stolid composure she could not now ruffle in the least.
The other gentlemen had become deeply interested in the venture; they knew Nordeck as a daring, skilful rider, but they had no idea that he could rival Prince Zulieski, and, less thoughtful than Count Morynski, they coolly resigned this "foreign plebeian" to certain discomfiture. The brothers stood near the splendid steed. The slim, fiery animal pawed the ground impatiently, and threatened every moment to break away from his groom. Leo took the bridle and held the horse while his brother mounted. His eyes beamed with satisfaction; he knew his Vaillant, and he was confident which would win the victory.
Vaillant scarcely felt the strange hand on the bridle, when he began to manifest his native obstinacy. He reared and plunged, and made the most violent efforts to rid himself of the burden; but the rider sat firmly in the saddle, and resisted the horse's frantic opposition so coolly and yet so energetically, that the animal soon grew quiet. But when Waldemar was ready to start, he refused to obey; the rider's whole skill and energy could not move him, he positively refused to stir, and at length became furious and decidedly dangerous. Thus far, Waldemar had remained perfectly composed, but now his brow grew dark, his lips compressed; his patience was exhausted. He raised his whip, and a merciless blow fell upon the refractory animal.
This unusual severity maddened the obstinate and spoiled Vaillant; he made a leap which caused the bystanders to scatter right and left, and shot like an arrow across the lawn into the broad avenue leading to the castle. There the ride became an infuriated combat between man and beast. Vaillant seemed determined to throw his rider. Waldemar retained his place, but it was at the risk of his life.
"End this mad conflict, Leo," said Count Morynski to his nephew. "Vaillant will grow quiet if you approach him; persuade your brother to dismount, or he may be killed."
Leo stood before his uncle with folded arms, and made no movement at interference. "I did not conceal from Waldemar the danger of riding my horse," he said, coldly. "If he purposely exasperates Vaillant, he must take the consequences; he knows that the animal will not endure harsh treatment."
Waldemar returned to the place whence he had started. He had forced Vaillant into the direction he wished to take, but had not conquered him. The horse still resisted his rider's iron will, and tried to throw him. Nordeck showed that the passion of his boyhood, so long repressed, had again revived; his face glowed, his eyes flashed, his teeth were set; he used the whip and spur in so unsparing a manner that Leo was beside himself. He had calmly contemplated his brother's danger, but he could not endure this ill-treatment of his favorite Vaillant.
"Stop, Waldemar!" he cried, angrily; "you will ruin my horse; you have proved that you can force Vaillant to carry you, now give him up to me."
"I shall first teach him obedience," said Waldemar, in a voice that betrayed the wildest excitement. He paid no heed to Leo's protests--their only result was the harsher treatment of the horse in a second course around the lawn. On the third round, Vaillant ceased his opposition, kept straight on in the road, and, at a single pressure of the bit, halted before the castle, but in a state of entire exhaustion.
Nordeck dismounted; the gentlemen thronged around him and complimented him, although somewhat reluctantly, upon his horsemanship. Leo had not a word to say. He patted his trembling, panting Vaillant in sullen silence, and his ill-humor was not at all improved when he saw that his favorite's glossy, brown coat bore blood-stains here and there from the merciless use of Waldemar's spurs.
"An unparalleled test of endurance!" said Count Morynski, gravely; "Vaillant will not soon forget this ride."
Waldemar had regained his self-control; but his flushed face and the swollen blue vein on his temple still bore evidence of his inward perturbation, as he replied,--
"It was my duty to prove that I in some measure deserved the Countess Morynski's flattering testimony, that I could ridenearlyas well as my brother."
Wanda stood near Leo, her face wearing an expression which indicated that she too had suffered a defeat which must be avenged. Her dark eyes flashed ominously.
"I regret that my thoughtless remark has subjected poor Vaillant to this cruel treatment," she answered, struggling for breath. "The noble animal is accustomed only to kindness."
"Neither am I accustomed to such opposition," sharply retorted Waldemar. "It is not my fault that Vaillant will submit only to whip and spur,--for submit he must."
Leo forestalled the angry reply already upon Wanda's lips, by ordering his groom in a loud voice to take Vaillant to the stable, to care for him in the kindest manner, and to bring him another horse. Seeing his nephew's excitement and resentment, Count Morynski took him aside and implored him to control his anger. "Do you wish to have a quarrel with your brother, here in presence of all these guests?" he asked.
"I don't care if I do," hotly replied the young prince, in a low sullen tone. "Has he not declared before them all that I cannot manage his Norman? Has he not ridden my Vaillant nearly to death, and all for a paltry bit of braggadocio?"
"But consider! You proposed the test, and he at first declined to accept it."
"He wanted to display his superiority in mere physical force. As if any one ever disputed that point which is his one great merit! I tell you, uncle, that my patience will never bear the like of this again, even were he tenfold master of Villica."
"Do show some discretion," said the count. "You and Wanda subordinate everything to your personal feelings. Nothing delights my daughter more than to exasperate Waldemar."
"Wanda can openly show her dislike," muttered Leo. "But I--There he stands by his Norman, as if they both were peace and tranquillity incarnate; but just let any one interfere with them."
The new horse was brought, and the hunting-party rode away. It was fortunate that the chase kept the brothers apart, for Leo's anger might have broken out into open hostility. Both brothers entered eagerly into the sport, and their quarrel was for the time forgotten.
Waldemar was wrong in despising those large, fashionable hunting-parties which were carried out in a style of princely magnificence at Villica. All the foresters and their assistants were required to appear in gala dress, the entire forest was in commotion, and swarmed with woodsmen and game-beaters, while the large, elegant, and exciting hunting-party sweeping past, formed an imposing pageant. The gentlemen, mostly distinguished by splendid figures, and wearing rich hunting-costumes, were mounted on spirited and gayly caparisoned horses, while the ladies at their side, in their beautiful riding-dresses and waving plumes, were equally well mounted, and the servants brought up the rear. The sounding of horns, the yelping of dogs, the shouts of the game-beaters, all combined to form a spectacle full of life and animation, which became even more lively and excited when the fleeing game and the whizzing shots awaking echoes through the forest, announced that the sport had actually begun.
The weather was everything that could be desired; it was a cool and hazy, but yet a fine November day. The Villica hunting-grounds boasted a matchless stock of deer, and excellent arrangements for securing a large booty had been made. The hunt was the more animated from the lateness of the hour; amends must be made for the morning's delay, and the autumn afternoon was already drawing to a close.
A few thousand yards distant from the forester's place, which to-day served as a rendezvous, lay a wooded meadow, lonely and almost lost in the midst of the foliage. During the summer season it was concealed from view by thick underbrush and stately trees, but now it was in full sight, the trees and bushes being nearly dismantled of their foliage. In the centre of the clearing there was a body of water, a small, transparent lake such as the forest often conceals in its depths. In summer, waving swamp-grasses and dreamy water-lilies threw a peculiar charm about the place which was now sombre and colorless, its withered leaves and faded turf being in unison with the autumnal aspect of the surrounding landscape.
Under one of these stately, wide-branching trees the Countess Morynski stood alone. Her seclusion was voluntary; she could not have been left behind by the hunting-party, which was distinctly heard at a short distance, and the forest-keeper's house where she had left her horse was also near. She leaned against the tree and gazed intently into the water, but her thoughts were evidently far away. Her beautiful eyes had a lowering glance, and the deep frown that furrowed her fair brow showed that she was under the influence of some angry emotion. The noisy hunting party drew nearer and then turned suddenly toward the river which flowed at some distance, very remote from the place Wanda had chosen as her retreat. The wild, confused sounds died away in the distance, only the far-off report of a rifle was heard at intervals, and soon death-like silence reigned.
As Wanda stood there seemingly lost in thought, the sound of a footstep and a rustling of branches startled her. Somewhat vexed at the disturbance, she looked around to discover its cause; the bushes parted, and Waldemar Nordeck appeared before her.
His surprise fully equalled her own. This unexpected meeting seemed as unpleasant to him as to her; but retreat was impossible, recognition had been mutual. Waldemar bowed stiffly, and said,--
"I was not aware, Countess Morynski, that you had left the chase; I did not suppose that so indefatigable a huntress would give up the pursuit until the last moment."
"And you too are an ardent hunter. Why did you leave the party so soon?" asked Wanda.
"I have had enough of it," returned Waldemar, shrugging his shoulders. "Such a crowd and tumult spoil all my pleasure. I prefer to hunt alone."
Wanda also had grown weary of the rush and noise, and had come here in quest of silence and solitude, but she would not confess it. "Do you come from the rendezvous?" she asked.
"No; but I have sent my horse there. The day's sport is nearly over; the hunting-party will pass here on its return, and I propose to await it."
As he said this, he set down his fowling-piece and the cock he had shot.
Wanda frowned. What business had he to be waiting here in the place she had chosen as her own retreat? Her first impulse was to leave; but was it not his duty to withdraw? She resolved to remain, even at the cost of being forced to tolerate the presence of this detestable man.
He did not manifest the slightest intention of leaving; he stood near her with folded arms, gazing upon the surrounding scene. The sun had been all day hidden behind a dense veil of clouds, but now a golden radiance broke through the fog, lighting up the western horizon and shimmering through the tree-tops. Ere long misty shadows, the harbingers of approaching night, began to rise from the meadows. The forest with its half dismantled trees and the withered leaves strewing the ground, lent the scene a bleak, autumnal aspect. There was no trace of that fresh, invigorating breath which pulsates through the woods in spring and summer; no token of that potent, life-giving power which at those seasons throbs through the veins and arteries of nature. Waning existence, slow, irresistible decay, were impressed upon all around.
Wanda's eyes rested as if in gloomy meditation upon the face of her companion; she seemed anxious to decipher his hidden thoughts. Although his face was half averted, he must have been conscious of her gaze, for he turned abruptly, and said indifferently,--
"There is something really comfortless in an autumnal landscape at an hour like this."
"And yet it has its own melancholy, poetic charm," returned Wanda; "do you not think so?"
"I?" he said, coldly; "I have had very little to do with poetry; you know that, Countess Morynski."
"And yet there are moments when the most prosaic natures must feel its spell."
"That may be, and to romantic natures such moments very often come. One like me must get through the world as best he can without romance or poetry. Such an existence, although not enviable, is at least endurable."
"How calmly you say this. And yet endurance was never your distinguishing virtue."
"Would you expect me to remain my whole life long a passionate, impetuous boy? Do you not think me capable of outgrowing juvenile follies?"
Wanda bit her lips; he had already proved the contrary.
"I certainly do," she said. "Indeed, I think you capable of a great deal more than you think proper to admit."
Waldemar scanned the young lady's face very closely. "Then you differ from all others in Villica; it is the general belief here that my abilities are of no high order."
"Because you choose to have them think so. I perhaps have deeper insight than the others."
"You flatter me," returned Waldemar, ironically; "but although you mean this kindly, it is cruel in you to deprive me of the only merit I possess in the eyes of my mother and brother--that of being harmless and insignificant."
"If my aunt could only hear the tone in which you say this, she would change her mind," returned Wanda, irritated by his sarcasm. "At present, I am alone in my opinion."
"And will remain so," added Waldemar. "It is conceded that I am an expert hunter, and after to-day's test, I may, perhaps, have the credit of being a skilful rider--but that is all."
"Are you really hunting, Herr Nordeck, when you roam about all day with your rifle and game-bag?"
"What else can I be doing?"
"I do not know, but I imagine that you are making a very thorough inspection of Villica. There is not a village, a forester's hut, or a farmhouse far or near upon your estates, that you have not visited. In all these places, as well as in your mother's salon, where you appear seldom and play a very indifferent part, you are constantly in search of information. You seem to take no notice of your mother's guests, but there is not a single one of them who has not been submitted to your scrutiny, upon whom you have not passed judgment. Not a word or glance escapes you."
She hurled all this at him blow after blow, with a precision and a determination which were well calculated to embarrass him, and for a moment he could not reply. He stood there with knit brows and compressed lips, evidently struggling to keep down his anger. But it was not so easy to disconcert Waldemar Nordeck. When he looked up at Wanda, a frown still rested upon his forehead, but his voice was sarcastic rather than angry.
"Your ladyship really embarrasses me. It seems that from the first day of my sojourn here I have been the object of your minute and almost exclusive observation. This is an honor which I really do not deserve."
Wanda was furious. Her cheeks glowed with rage as she met the glance of the audacious man who had dared to parry her blow with her own weapons.
"I do not deny this minute observation; but you yourself will admit, Herr Nordeck, that I have not made it from the slightest personal interest in you."
His lips curled in a bitter smile. "You are perfectly right; I had no idea that you could take the slightest personal interest in me; the indifference is perhaps mutual."
"But you will at least allow that I have been frank with you: it only remains for you to admit or deny the truth of my conclusions."
"But what if I choose to do neither?"
"Then my opinion will be confirmed, and I shall earnestly endeavor to convince my aunt that her son is more dangerous than she supposes."
Waldemar's voice had a tone of cutting irony as he replied,--
"You may have very excellent judgment, Countess Morynski, but you are not a diplomatist; if you were, you would be more guarded in your expressions.Dangerous?That is a significant word."
The young girl gave an involuntary start. "I merely repeated your own expression," she said, regaining her self-control.
"Ah! I began to think that something was going on in Villica, the success of which might be endangered by my presence."
Wanda made no reply. She began to see how indiscreet she had been. Her adversary had parried every thrust, returned every blow, and entrapped her in her own words. He had also possessed the advantage of remaining cool and collected, while she had lost her temper. She saw that she must attempt to rescue herself from the net which her own indiscretion had woven around her.
"Will you desist from this mockery?" she said, fixing her large, defiant eyes full upon his face. "I know that it is directed solely against me. You at last force me to allude to a subject which I recall very much against my will. I once wronged, perhaps insulted you, and you have never forgotten it. I was entirely to blame--I confess it--will you forgive me?"
The apology was made in a tone which expressed all the pride of a woman who realizes that it is no humiliation to ask forgiveness of the man with whom she has trifled. Its effect was entirely different from what she had expected.
Waldemar approached a step nearer, and his eyes rested with a penetrating glance upon her face. "Indeed," he said, slowly, and strongly emphasizing every word,--"indeed, I was not aware that Villica was of so much consequence to your party."
"Do you believe--" Wanda began.
"I believe that one day I shall have to pay dear for being master of these estates," interrupted he. "Four years ago the main point was to induce me to open Villica to my mother and her interests; now the main point is to retain it in her interests at any price; but they forget that I am no longer an inexperienced boy. You yourself have opened my eyes, countess, and I shall keep them open even at the risk of incurring your resentment."
Wanda turned deathly pale; her right hand clenched involuntarily the folds of her velvet riding-dress.
"Enough!" she said, making a powerful effort to regain her self-control, "I see that you spurn all reconciliation, and try to offend me so as to render an understanding impossible. Well and good! I accept the proffered enmity."
"You mistake!" rejoined Waldemar, calmly. "I do not proffer you enmity: that would be very ungallant toward--"
"Toward whom?" exclaimed Wanda, with flashing eyes, as he hesitated.
"Toward my brother's affianced bride."
Wanda's whole frame was convulsed. Strange as it may appear, that word stabbed her to the heart. Her eyes involuntarily sought the ground.
"I have hitherto neglected to offer you my congratulations," continued Waldemar; "will you accept them to-day?"
She bowed her thanks in silence. She herself did not know what sealed her lips, but she could not answer at this moment. For the first time the betrothal had been alluded to between them, and the mere mention of it seemed sufficient, for even Waldemar did not add a syllable to his congratulations.
The golden lustre of the western sky had long since faded into a pale, sombre gray; the light evening wind rustled the underbrush and swayed gently the tree-tops now half dismantled of their foliage, which hung in mottled shreds from the branches, or had fallen, leaf by leaf, strewing the forest-floor and the unruffled surface of the lake. Other withered, dying leaves, swayed to and fro by the breeze, seemed sighing a low wail for all that life and beauty which had known its brief hour of bloom and brightness, and was now passing to its grave. Ever deepening shadows wrapt the forest; vapory clouds from the damp meadows, growing denser as they rose, ere long hung in threatening masses above the water. Now, floating in mid-air, appeared a ghostly apparition, stretching out its humid, nebulous arms to these two beings standing on the edge of the lake, as if it would draw them to itself,--anon it dissolved into thousands of phantom forms and pictures, each succeeding the other in endless variation.
No sound was heard save the low, sad, monotone of the winds and the gentle dropping of the leaves; but through the ever-changing mists above the water appeared a sort offata morgana, the picture of a forest knoll with primeval beeches, and of a heaving sea stretching out to the horizon's verge, the whole illuminated by the golden light of a summer sunset. The sun sank slowly beneath the waters, and amid a flood of radiance rose again the old wonder-city of tradition,--that city which has been the theme of so many a story, the inspiration of so many a song. Fairy-land again opened to mortal gaze, and from the depths was heard a musical chime, the chime of the bells of Vineta, the sunken city beneath the wave.
The fairy vision had not kept its word to these two who had seen it that day upon the beech-holm. They had parted in estrangement and hostility, they met again upon the same footing. The youth had become a man who was passing through life unloving and solitary; the young girl had become a woman blessed with beauty, love, and fortune: but they had never again found what that one hour at the beech-holm had brought them, never until this autumnal evening, when the old vision reappeared before their eyes. And now, as they stood there together, the intervening years vanished, hatred, strife and bitterness were at an end, and nothing remained in their hearts save a deep, inexpressible yearning for a happiness they might never know, a happiness whose first premonitions had come to them with that vision of Vineta--that mirage at sunset.
Waldemar was first to speak. "The atmospheric effects in this North-sea region are very wonderful," he said. "This mirage, thisfata morganawhich is so often seen here, has given rise to one of the most beautiful of our North-German legends. So clearly defined are the outlines of the city which seemingly rises from the waters, that we cannot wonder at the old traditionary belief in Vineta, a city like the island of Atalantis sunken beneath the waves, and remaining in its pristine splendor at the ocean's depths; but unlike its prototype, our submerged city often revisits the upper air, and appears beautiful as of old to mortal eyes."
"We have seen it twice," said Wanda, "and both times I have fancied I heard the chiming of its bells."
"The reflection of city roofs and spires was real, the sounds were purely imaginary."
"I never heard the legend of Vineta until you told it to me four years ago," observed Wanda. "Since then I find that it has been a favorite theme of our poets."
"Yes, I am aware of that. During these years of study and travel I too have learned something of poetry, and I have in mind several little ballads founded upon this legend."
"Will you not recite one of them?" asked Wanda, eagerly.
"O, no! I never recite poetry, and I only recall a stanza here and there."
"But, please, repeat what you know," pleaded Wanda, in her most irresistible tone.
"There was a time when your wish was my law, but now--"
"Now I no longer command; I beg and entreat."
"I may yield to your entreaties if you will first recite one of your favorite poems to me," replied Waldemar.
"I know a ballad upon Vineta by Finelius. I will repeat a few stanzas." And Wanda recited, with fine expression and deep feeling, these lines from a well-known ballad: