"On Easter-morn, when the jubilant bellsRing out 'Our Lord is risen!'They call forth an echo loud and longFrom church-spires which the waves imprison."Then she rises slow from the ocean's breast,Awed to rest are the waves around her,As Vineta, the ancient, proud, and great,Breaks the spell that long has bound her."She comes forth the Queen of the Northern Sea,Fair as in her olden seeming;Her church-spires cleaving the upper sky,Her roofs in the sunlight gleaming.* * * * *"But all is silent. No host, no guest,No priest in her holy places;Her ships lie anchored with drooping sails,In her streets are no living faces!"
"On Easter-morn, when the jubilant bells
Ring out 'Our Lord is risen!'
They call forth an echo loud and long
From church-spires which the waves imprison.
"Then she rises slow from the ocean's breast,
Awed to rest are the waves around her,
As Vineta, the ancient, proud, and great,
Breaks the spell that long has bound her.
"She comes forth the Queen of the Northern Sea,
Fair as in her olden seeming;
Her church-spires cleaving the upper sky,
Her roofs in the sunlight gleaming.
* * * * *
"But all is silent. No host, no guest,
No priest in her holy places;
Her ships lie anchored with drooping sails,
In her streets are no living faces!"
"Thank you; the lines are very beautiful," said Waldemar. "Now, when we read these poet fancies, we may know that they are not all fancy, for have not we too seen the enchanted, enchanting old Wonder-city? I can repeat no poem to you, but these lines of Wilhelm Müller haunt my memory to-day:
"From the sea's deep, deep abysses,Evening bells chime sweet and low,Of that olden city telling,Lost and sunken long ago."From the heart's deep, deep abyssesSounds come like those bells of even,Telling of the loves it cherishedIn the days when earth was heaven."
"From the sea's deep, deep abysses,
Evening bells chime sweet and low,
Of that olden city telling,
Lost and sunken long ago.
"From the heart's deep, deep abysses
Sounds come like those bells of even,
Telling of the loves it cherished
In the days when earth was heaven."
Wanda blushed painfully and was silent. Waldemar passed his hand over his forehead as if to dispel these romantic fancies. "Perhaps we had better return to the rendezvous and await our party," he said, hastily. "Twilight is falling, and there is something very oppressive in this heavy atmosphere."
Wanda eagerly assented. She too longed to end the interview, to break away from the spell that was enthralling her. Just as he had shouldered his rifle and they were on the point of going, Waldemar paused suddenly.
"My suspicions have offended you deeply," he said, "and perhaps they were unjust; but tell me, candidly, was the half-apology you deigned to make really addressed to Waldemar Nordeck? Was it not made rather to the master of Villica, with whom a reconciliation is desirable, so that he may tolerate, or at least overlook what is taking place on his estates?"
"Do you really know--" began Wanda, in surprise.
"Enough to remove your apprehension that you were indiscreet a few moments ago. Did you truly think me so short-sighted as not to observe what is town-talk in L----, that Villica is the focus of party schemes of which my mother is the heart and soul? You may safely confess to me what the whole neighborhood already knows. I knew it before I came here."
Wanda was silent. She tried to read from his features if he really meant what he said, but they were a sealed book to her.
"That, however, is not the point," he resumed; "I asked an answer to my question. Was that magnanimous apology of yours a voluntary one, or was it only a commission you were bound to execute? Do not be angry; I ask merely for information, and you must pardon me, Wanda, if I question an act of friendliness coming from you."
Wanda would certainly have taken these words as a fresh insult and answered them accordingly, if Waldemar's mode of saying them had not disarmed her against her will. His attitude had changed, the icy, hostile manner had vanished; his voice also had another tone; it was softer and deeper, and the young girl trembled as he called her Wanda for the first time in years.
"If my aunt has made me an unwilling instrument of her plans, you must settle with her and not with me," she said, in a low tone, and there was no sting in her words. "I suspected nothing, I was only a child following every momentary whim; but, now,"--she raised her head proudly,--"now I am responsible for my conduct, and I make confession to you of my own free will. You are right; the apology was not to Waldemar Nordeck. Since our meeting, after long years of absence, he has given me no cause to seek or to desire a reconciliation. I wanted to force the master of Villica to open his closed visor. That is no longer necessary. I have just learned from you what I had hitherto only suspected, that in you we have a bitter, merciless enemy, who will use his power at the decisive moment, even if he must tread underfoot all ties of family and of nature."
"And to whom should these ties bind me?" asked Waldemar, excitedly. "To my mother? You know our mutual relations, and that she is now less than ever inclined to forgive me for being the heir of the Nordeck wealth in place of her younger son. To Leo? Possibly there may be a feeling of brotherly love between us, but I do not believe it will survive when our ways cross--at least not on his side."
"Leo would gladly have met you as a brother if you had not made it impossible for him," returned Wanda. "You were always inaccessible even to him, but there have been moments when he might have approached you fraternally. He is too proud to seek to break through the icy reserve you maintain toward him and all around you. Any manifestation of affection from him or from your mother would be shattered against a hardness that cares nothing for them, or perhaps for any one in the wide world."
She stopped suddenly as her eyes met Waldemar's searching gaze. "Your judgment is correct, although merciless," he said, gravely. "Have you ever asked yourself what made me hard? There was a time when I was not so--at least not toward you,--when a word or a glance of yours ruled me, when I patiently submitted to your every whim. Wanda, you could then have made much, perhaps everything of me. You did not wish to do so. My handsome, chivalrous brother was your favorite. This was but natural, I cannot blame you. I was not at all suited to you then. But that was the turning-point of my existence, and a man like myself, who is resolved not to allow his life to be blighted by disappointment, will become hard and suspicious. I now consider it very fortunate that my youthful passion was spurned and derided. If it had been otherwise, my mother would have insisted upon our repeating the drama which was played here twenty-five years ago, when a Nordeck led home a young countess for his bride. You perhaps, with your sixteen years, might have yielded to the will of your family, and have married a fortune, while I should have shared my father's fate. We have both escaped such a calamity, and that foolish past is now buried and forgotten. I only wished to remind you that you have no right to upbraid me with hardness, or to complain when this hardness is manifested toward you and yours. Shall I now accompany you to the rendezvous?"
Wanda complied in silence. Although she had at first been irritated and combative, the turn taken by the conversation had finally wrested the weapons from her hands. To-day they again parted as enemies, but both felt that from this hour the conflict between them was of another character, although perhaps none the less bitter.
The whole landscape was wrapped in twilight shadows that grew deeper every moment, and misty vapors rose from field and forest. White clouds, a now shapeless, dissolving mass, still hovered over the lake. The vision that had risen above the waters had sunk beneath their depths, but it would never be forgotten by this strong, earnest, reticent man and this dreamy young girl, who walked so silently side by side.
Here in the desolate autumnal forest, at the ghostly twilight hour, the breath of that old ocean fable of the distant North again floated around them, and whispered anew its ancient prophecy:--"Whoever has once seen Vineta and listened to the chiming of its bells, must be consumed by regret and longing until the fairy vision again appears to bring him peace, or until the old phantom-city draws him downward into its ocean depths."
The two rooms in the castle assigned to Doctor Fabian faced the park. The princess, while having the suit of rooms which had been occupied by her first husband put in readiness for his son, had set apart an adjoining one for his tutor, which, although small and noisy from its nearness to the main stairway, was supposed to be ample for a dependant who had been obliged to put up with all sorts of discomforts at Altenhof, and was not likely to be either fastidious or exacting. This arrangement did not suit Waldemar; immediately upon his arrival he ordered that two of the guest-chambers on the other side of the castle should be assigned to Doctor Fabian. These happened to be the apartments occupied by Count Morynski and his daughter on their frequent visits to Villica; but Waldemar, who was not aware of the fact, chose these rooms as the best and most pleasant, and had the corridor leading past them closed up, so that Doctor Fabian might not be disturbed in his studies.
The princess, when informed of this proceeding, made no protest; she was resolved never to oppose her son in minor matters. She had other rooms arranged for her brother and his daughter, but she felt some natural resentment against Doctor Fabian, the innocent cause of Waldemar's mistake. She, however, gave no expression to her displeasure, for she and all the inmates of the castle soon learned that, although the young master required but little attention for himself, he resented keenly any neglect shown his former tutor. And so it happened that all in the castle, from the princess down to the humblest servant, treated the shy, unobtrusive student with the greatest consideration.
This was no difficult task, for the doctor was a polite, unassuming man, who required few services, and returned thanks for every slight attention. He appeared only at meals, his days being passed with his books and his evenings with Waldemar. Master and pupil were on terms of the greatest intimacy.
"Doctor Fabian is the only person for whom Waldemar has any regard," said the princess to her brother, as she informed him of the change of apartments. "The young landlord's whims must be humored," she added, "although I cannot see what he finds to admire in this tiresome pedagogue whom he once slighted, but now treats with such marked respect and affection."
The complete change of relations between himself and his pupil had exerted a favorable influence over Doctor Fabian. He still retained his old modesty and diffidence, but that subdued, anxious look he had once worn disappeared with the humility and dependence of his former position. He had become almost healthy and vigorous in appearance; those four years passed at the university in congenial pursuits and varied by extensive travel, had done much toward making a man of the once sickly, timid, and oppressed tutor. His pale, but agreeable face, his soft, well-modulated voice, made a very favorable impression, and it was his own fault that his natural shyness and reserve prevented his asserting his claim to the position his worth and talent merited.
Doctor Fabian had a visitor--a very unusual occurrence. Near him, upon the sofa, sat no less a personage than Assessor Hubert; but the great man's intentions were now entirely pacific, he had no idea of arresting any one at present. That unfortunate blunder had paved his way to an acquaintance with Doctor Fabian. When the affair became known (which was only too soon), the doctor was the assessor's sole friend and comforter. Margaret Frank had been so heartless as to relate the full details to her friends in L----. The story of the attempted arrest of the young master of Villica was told and laughed at throughout the city, and when it reached the ears of the chief of police, he sharply admonished his over-zealous official, advising him to use more caution in future, and in his pursuit of suspicious Polish emissaries to beware how he attacked wealthy German proprietors, whose attitude, in the present state of affairs, was of the most vital importance. At L----, in Villica, wherever the poor assessor went, he was subject to annoying allusions to this matter, and to open ridicule.
The day after his unfortunate blunder he had come to apologize to Herr Nordeck, but not finding that gentleman at home, he had applied to the doctor, who, although one of the aggrieved persons, acted very magnanimously, comforting the contrite assessor to the best of his ability, and proposing to act as mediator with the young landlord. The assessor's contrition, however, was neither of great depth nor of long duration; his overweening self-conceit enabled him to bound back to his former position, like a steel spring when the pressure is removed. The derision he everywhere met exasperated and wounded him without depriving him of a particle of self-confidence. After such an occurrence, any other person would have remained quiet as possible so that the matter might be forgotten, instead of rushing into similar undertakings with the feverish ardor which now characterized Hubert. He felt that he must redeem himself at all hazards, and show his official colleagues and all his acquaintances that he really possessed a master-mind. He must by some means lay hold of a brace of conspirators, or ferret out a plot, it was immaterial where or how, so that he could win the renown he coveted and the promotion he had long and vainly sought.
Villica remained the chief goal of his efforts, for its loyalty, under the present rule, was exceedingly doubtful. Young Nordeck's return gave little hope of a change for the better, as he was supposed to be entirely under the influence of his Polish relatives. He must, it was thought, be their aider and abetter, or else indifferent to what occurred on his estates. The young landlord was severely criticised in L----, and Assessor Hubert was his sternest judge. If Hubert had but possessed the required authority, he would at once have crushed all revolutionary movements, and have won the applause of his country and the world. Unfortunately, as he was neither master of Villica, nor a high government official, he could do nothing but ferret out the conspiracy which was no doubt brewing. His whole energy and ambition were directed to this one end.
The two gentlemen in their conversation alluded to none of these things. The good-natured Fabian must not suspect that this visit had been prompted by an irresistible desire to gain entrance to the castle, and the wary assessor made another pretext for coming.
"I have a favor to ask of you, Doctor Fabian," he began, after the first greetings were over; "not a favor to myself, personally, but to the family of Superintendent Frank, where I am a frequent visitor. You doubtless are master of the French language?"
"O, yes; I read and speak it," answered the doctor, "but I have not had much practice for the last few years. Herr Nordeck does not like French, and here in Villica they do us the favor to speak only German in our presence."
"Practice is also what Fräulein Frank lacks," said the assessor. "When she returned from school two years ago, she spoke French very fluently, but she has no opportunities for conversation here in the country. As you have such abundant leisure, would you not be willing occasionally to read and speak French with the young lady? By so doing, you would, confer the greatest possible favor upon me."
"Uponyou, Herr Hubert? I must confess my surprise that this proposition comes from you rather than from the young lady's father."
"There are certain reasons for my asking this favor," replied Hubert, in a dignified tone. "You doubtless have observed--indeed, I make no secret of it--that I cherish certain wishes and intentions which may be realized at no distant day. In short, I regard Margaret Frank as my future wife."
The doctor stooped to pick up a piece of paper from the floor, and seemed deeply engrossed in deciphering its contents, although not a word was written on the blank surface. "I congratulate you," he said at length, in a constrained voice.
"O, I cannot just yet accept your congratulations," replied the assessor, with a smile of indescribable self-satisfaction. "We are not really engaged, but I am certain of being accepted. To tell the truth, I wish to obtain promotion before urging my suit (I expect soon to become government counsellor), and then my position will plead powerfully for me. You must know that this young lady is a very excellent match."
"Ah, indeed!"
"A very excellent match; her father is a wealthy man. He is about to resign his present position in order to become himself a proprietor, and he has a large sum of money to invest in an estate of his own. He has only two children, this daughter, and a son who is now in the agricultural college. I can rely upon a handsome dowry and upon quite a large inheritance at some future day. And besides, Fräulein Margaret is a charming, amiable girl, whom I adore."
"Besides!" echoed the doctor, in a low tone, and with a bitterness quite unusual to him. The assessor did not hear the half-suppressed exclamation; he went on in a very consequential tone:
"Superintendent Frank has spared no expense in the education of his children; his daughter for a long time attended one of the first young ladies' seminaries in P----, and I am entirely satisfied with her proficiency. You can easily understand, Doctor Fabian, that in the position I shall one day occupy, I must have a wife of fine culture and elegant manners. As a high officer of the government I shall be obliged to go much into society, and to entertain a great deal at my own house, and I am particularly anxious that my future wife should be a proficient in piano-music and French. In regard to the latter, if you will have the kindness--"
"If the superintendent and his daughter desire my assistance, it will be given with great pleasure," returned Doctor Fabian, with forced composure.
"Most certainly they desire it, but the idea of presuming upon your obliging disposition is solely my own," said Hubert, exceedingly proud of this brilliant piece of strategy. "The young lady having recently complained that she was forgetting her French, the superintendent proposed to have a master come from the city and give her lessons; but I could not consent to that! Why, this master would no doubt be some young Frenchman who would make love to his pupil at the very first lesson. Frank is so much absorbed in business that he would not be on his guard, but I am more cautious. I would not for the world allow a youthful, susceptible French master to be so frequently in the society of this young girl, while an elderly gentleman like you--"
"I am thirty-seven years old," interrupted the doctor.
"Ah, is that all?" replied Hubert; "I really thought you older; your sedentary habits and absorption in books give you a gravity beyond your years. In any event, I have no fear ofyou," he added, with a patronizing smile. "But, speaking of books, tell me, doctor, why have you brought along all these books that I see lying around everywhere? What are you studying? The best modes of teaching, probably. May I examine them?"
He rose and moved toward the writing-table, but Doctor Fabian was quicker than he. With a hasty movement he threw a newspaper over some unbound volumes that were lying there, and took his station in front of them. "I am at present engaged in some historical studies," he said, blushing deeply; "this is a favorite amusement of mine."
"Ah, historical studies!" repeated the assessor. "May I ask if you are acquainted with the great authority on this subject, Professor Schwarz? He is my uncle. Of course you know him; he is connected with the university of J----, where young Nordeck studied."
"I have that pleasure," replied Fabian, mechanically, casting a timid glance at a newspaper which lay upon the table.
"O, yes, everybody knows him; he is a celebrated man, and is endowed with talents of the highest order. Although my family can boast of many renowned names, we have every reason to be proud of this relationship. I hope also to do honor to our name and lineage."
The doctor stood anxiously guarding his writing-table from an attack on the part of the assessor, but that young gentleman was too much absorbed in the importance of his family in general, and that of his celebrated uncle in particular, to pay any regard to the productions of a mere private tutor. Nevertheless, he felt constrained to show him some courtesy.
"It is very commendable in non-professional men to interest themselves in such studies," he observed, condescendingly. "I only fear that you have not the requisite leisure; it must be very noisy in the castle. Is there not a constant coming and going of all kinds of people?"
"There may be," replied Fabian, ingenuously, and without the least suspicion of his visitor's aim, "but I hear nothing of it. My former pupil, knowing my studious inclinations, has had the kindness to give me the most quiet and secluded rooms in the castle."
"O, certainly, certainly!" replied Hubert, who now took his stand at a window and endeavored to obtain a broad outlook from that point. "I should think such an ancient structure as this Villica, with its historical associations, must deeply interest you; there are so many rooms, halls, and stairways; and what vast cellars the castle must contain! Have you been in the cellars yet?"
"In the cellars!" echoed the doctor, in astonishment. "No, sir; what business have I there?"
"I would like to visit them; I have a fancy for such old vaults, as I have for all ancient and curious things. By the way, is the large collection of arms that was left by the late Herr Nordeck still intact? That hobby of his must have cost large sums of money, as it resulted in the accumulation of hundreds of the finest weapons. Are they all here yet?"
Doctor Fabian shrugged his shoulders. "You must ask his son," he said; "I confess that I have not been in the armory."
"It is doubtless on the other side of the castle," observed Hubert, with an omniscient glance. "According to Superintendent Frank's description, it is a dark, ghostly-looking hall, in keeping with the general character of Villica. Have you never heard that there are mysterious manifestations around here? Have you never observed anything remarkable or unusual at night?"
"I sleep all night long," replied the doctor, smiling at his visitor's belief in ghosts.
The assessor raised his eyes to heaven, and mentally ejaculated, "This man, whom chance has placed within Villica Castle, sees and hears nothing of what is transpiring around him; he has not visited the cellars, he has not even entered the armory, and, most astounding thing of all, he sleeps at night! There is nothing to be learned from such a harmless book-worm."
After a few polite commonplaces, Hubert took his leave.
He passed slowly along the corridor. Upon his arrival, a servant had conducted him to the doctor's rooms, but now he was alone--alone in a "nest of conspirators," which this bright forenoon, with its carpeted halls and stairways, looked as quiet and elegant and harmless as the most loyal castle of the most loyal citizen. But the assessor was not to be deceived by appearances; right and left he scented the conspiracy which he could not openly attack. At length he espied a door which he thought had a suspicious aspect. It stood in the shadow of a huge pillar, and was set deep in the wall. This door, he thought, must lead to a side stairway, perhaps to a secret passage, and possibly down to the cellars which his vivid imagination at once filled with concealed weapons and bands of traitors. He would at least turn the knob; perhaps here lay the key to the whole mystery. In case of discovery, he might pretend to have made a mistake, or to have become lost in the winding passages of the castle. The little man's cogitations were cut short and his further investigations prevented by the sudden opening of the door and the appearance of Waldemar Nordeck. A single glance through the open portal showed him that it led to no nest of treason, stratagem, and spoils, but simply to the sleeping-apartment of the master of Villica. Waldemar nodded indifferently to the assessor, and passed on to Doctor Fabian's rooms. Hubert saw that, in spite of his apologies, the recent insult had not been forgiven, and that his best course would be to relinquish for the present all attempts at further discoveries, and to leave immediately.
Waldemar found Doctor Fabian at his writing-desk, re-arranging the books and papers he had screened from the assessor's inquisitive gaze. "Well, what news?" asked the young landlord. "I noticed, when I sent in your mail, that you had received letters and papers from J----."
The doctor replied, almost bitterly, "O Waldemar, why did you force me to give the public the results of my quiet studies and labors? I opposed it from the first, but you entreated and insisted, and so I published the book."
"Of course I did! Of what benefit was it to you and to the world, locked up in your writing-desk? Your 'History of Ancient Germany' has been received with unexpected favor. In truth, the first recognition of its merits came from Professor Weber, of J----, and I should think that his name and judgment ought to be of sufficient weight."
"I think so too," replied Fabian, dejectedly. "I was only too proud and happy in receiving praise from such a source; but this very circumstance has provoked Professor Schwarz to make an exceedingly severe attack upon me and upon my book. Just read what he says."
Waldemar took the newspaper, and read the criticism. "This is most detestable malice," he said. "Why, the article really ends with a personal attack upon you and me:--'We are told that this learned and literary celebrity, lately discovered by Professor Weber, was for a long time tutor to the son of one of our first landed proprietors; but the young man's culture reflects little credit upon his teacher. The influence of this wealthy pupil may, however, have had its share in eliciting such boundless over-estimation of a work through which an amateur seeks to intrude into the ranks of men of science.'"
Waldemar flung the paper upon the table. "Poor Doctor Fabian," he exclaimed, "how often you have to atone for having educated such an unruly, uncultivated being as I am! True, you are in no way responsible for my unworthiness, and I have not in the least influenced Professor Weber's panegyric of your book; but in those exclusive circles where this Schwarz moves, you can never be forgiven for having been a tutor, even though you one day win a professorship."
"Good heavens, who ever thought of such a thing?" cried Doctor Fabian, aghast at the very idea of so great exaltation. "Not I, indeed; and I am all the more deeply wounded at being reproached with ambition and unwarranted intrusion into learned circles, because I have simply written an historical work, which adheres closely to the subject, insults no one, encroaches upon no one's rights, and--"
"And is, moreover, one of the best ever written," interposed Waldemar. "You ought to believe in its excellence, since Professor Weber has so emphatically indorsed it. You know that he is absolutely impartial, and that you have always looked upon him as an undisputed authority."
"Professor Schwarz is also an authority."
"Yes, but an atrabilious one, who concedes no merit outside himself. Why shouldyoucome out with a book upon Ancient Germany, when that is his especial province? Has he not written upon the subject? Woe to the man who dares venture upon that sacred ground; his anathema is pronounced beforehand! But don't look so downhearted; such a mien ill becomes a new-fledged celebrity. What would Uncle Witold, with his contempt for that 'heathen rubbish,' have said to all this? If we had known, in those old days at Altenhof, the brilliant future that lay before you, we should all have treated you with more respect. It was a sacrifice for a man of your talents to stay with me."
"No, no; a thousand times no!" cried Doctor Fabian, excitedly. "The sacrifice was all on your side. Who obstinately insisted upon keeping me with him when he no longer needed my instruction? Who always declined receiving the slightest service which would take me from my books? Who gave me the means to devote myself for years to historical research, to collect and arrange my desultory acquirements? Who almost compelled me to accompany him upon journeys, because close application had injured my health? The hour when your Norman wounded me was a beneficent hour to me. I owe to it all I hoped or longed for in this world."
"Then your longings were few indeed," returned Waldemar, "so few that it would have been a great pity had they not been gratified. But, to change the subject, I have just met in the hall that exemplary representative of the police department of L----. He came from you, and I see him now prowling about the yard. His visits cannot be on our account, since we have proved that we are not conspirators. Why, then, is he here so much?"
Fabian cast down his eyes and seemed greatly embarrassed. "I do not know," he said, "but I fancy there is a personal reason for his frequent visits at the superintendent's. He has made me a visit before."
"And did you receive him kindly? Doctor, you are strictly obedient to that Christian precept, 'If a man smite you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.' I really believe you would not hesitate to do the greatest favor in your power even to Professor Schwarz. But be upon your guard with this formidable assessor; he is again upon the chase for conspirators, and, insignificant as he is, chance may yet favor him. There really are conspirators in Villica."
"Have you made any unpleasant discoveries?" asked Doctor Fabian. "I have thought it might be so, although you tell me nothing."
Waldemar seated himself and leaned his head wearily upon his hand. "I do not like to speak of matters concerning which I am not fully informed," he said; "and it will require time to gain perfect knowledge of affairs in Villica. How was I to know that the superintendent had not a personal interest in misrepresenting things, or that he had not exaggerated? In such matters one can only trust his own judgment, and I have used mine during the last few weeks. Unfortunately, every word Frank wrote me has been confirmed; order prevails as far as his absolute authority extends, but upon the other estates, and especially throughout the forests, I find a perfect chaos."
Fabian pushed aside his books and papers, and listened with anxious sympathy as Waldemar went on:
"Uncle Witold always thought that my Polish estates could be managed from a distance, and, unfortunately, he reared me in that belief. I did not love Villica, I do not love it now; too many unpleasant reminiscences of the fatal misunderstandings between my parents, and of my friendless childhood, are connected with it. I was accustomed to regard Altenhof as my home, and when I attained my majority and should have come here as master, reasons which I cannot name prevented me. I must now atone for past neglect. The twenty years of deputized rule allowed by my guardian have resulted in many evils; but they are nothing when compared with the perhaps irreparable injuries resulting from my mother's management. I am alone to blame; I have never troubled myself about my estates: I now stand cheated and betrayed upon my own soil."
"You were very young when you came into possession of your estates," said the doctor, apologetically. "The three years at the university were indispensable to you, and then, as we travelled a year, we could have no suspicion how things were going on at Villica. We came here immediately upon receiving the superintendent's letter, and I really think that with your good sense and energy, you will overcome the most formidable obstacles."
"They are greater than you dream," returned Waldemar. "The princess is my mother, and she and Leo are wholly dependent upon my generosity. This ties my hands. If there should be a serious breach between us, they would have to leave Villica, and Count Morynski's house would be their only refuge. I do not wish to subject them to such humiliation, but there must be an end to this underhanded game, especially to proceedings here in the castle. Doctor, you have no idea of the state of affairs. I know a great deal already, and I am resolved to make a thorough investigation. I shall now speak with my mother."
A long pause followed. Fabian ventured no reply; he knew by the expression of the young man's face that this was no trifling matter. He at length approached his pupil, laid a hand upon his shoulder, and asked, gently,--
"Waldemar, what occurred yesterday at the chase?"
"At the chase?" repeated Waldemar. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"
"Because you returned in such ill humor; and besides, at the dinner-table, I heard some hint of a dispute between you and your brother."
"Ah, indeed!" replied Waldemar, indifferently. "Leo was irritated because I treated his favorite horse rather harshly; but the matter is not of the least consequence--it is already settled."
"Then it was something else."
"Yes--something else."
Another silence followed: then the doctor began again:
"Waldemar, the princess recently called me your only confidant; I might have replied that you have no confidant. Perhaps I am somewhat nearer to you than others, but you never open your heart to me. Must you endure and fight through everything alone?"
Waldemar smiled, but it was a cold, joyless smile. "You must take me as I am," he said; "but why this solicitude? I may well be out of sorts, so many anxieties and difficulties beset me here."
The doctor shook his head. "These things no doubt irritate and embitter you beyond measure, but the sorrow that oppresses you has another cause. I have seen you in this mood only once before, Waldemar; it was at Altenhof, when--"
"Spare me these recollections, I implore you!" interrupted Waldemar, so abruptly and impetuously that Fabian started back in terror. Waldemar immediately mastered his emotion, and continued, in a calmer tone, "I am sorry that you, too, must suffer from my vexation; it was selfish in me to bring you to Villica. You should have returned to J----, to remain until I had restored order here and could offer you a quiet asylum."
"I would not have left you alone under any consideration," said Fabian, gently but decidedly.
Waldemar grasped his hand. "I knew you would not; but do not torture yourself any longer about my troubles; if you do, I shall repent having been so frank with you. Your own affairs should engross you now. Remember me to Professor Weber when you write to J----, and tell him that I am about to reduce your work to practice, and impress something of the 'History of Germany' upon my Slavonic estates. Villica needs it. Good-bye."
Doctor Fabian looked after him as he left the room, and sighed, "He is impenetrable and silent as a rock whenever I attempt to approach this one subject, but I know that to this day he has not mastered that sentiment, and he never will. I fear that the baleful influence which kept us so long from Villica is beginning to re-assert its power. Let Waldemar deny it as he will; I saw him yesterday when he returned from the chase; he is even now under the old spell."
Night had fallen, and profound silence reigned throughout Villica Castle; a silence in striking contrast to the tumult of the preceding day, when the house had been full of guests. A great supper had followed the return of the hunting-party, and as it was prolonged far into the night, most of the guests had remained until dawn. Count Morynski and Leo had left with them to pass a few days at a neighboring estate, and Wanda staid to keep her aunt company.
The two ladies sat alone in the drawing-room, which, with its brilliant lights and closely-drawn curtains, bore no trace of the rough November storm that was raging without. The princess sat upon a sofa; the young countess had risen, and was pacing up and down the room, evidently in great perturbation.
"Wanda, spare me these Cassandrian warnings, I implore you!" said the elder lady; "I tell you once more that your judgment is warped by your antipathy for Waldemar. Must he necessarily be an enemy to us all because you and he are at war?"
Wanda stopped short in her rapid walk, and gazed angrily at her aunt. "You may one day regret the scorn with which you treat my warnings," she said. "I still believe that you are deceived in your son; he is neither so blind nor so indifferent as you think."
"Will you not cease these obscure prophecies, and tell me plainly what you fear? You know that I do not trust to appearances or opinions; I require proofs. Whence arises this suspicion of yours to which you cling with such tenacity? What did Waldemar say to you when you met him yesterday at the rendezvous?"
Wanda was silent. She had mentioned only their meeting at the ranger's place, not wishing to inform her aunt of that solitary interview by the forest-lake. Not for the world would she have repeated the details of that meeting, and yet Waldemar had said nothing to give her the slightest ground for the assertions she had just made. She had no proof save that strange instinct which from the first had guided her in her estimate of a character which had escaped her aunt's keen penetration. She could not offer these mere impressions as evidence, her aunt would deride them.
"Waldemar had but little to say to me," she answered at length; "but that little convinced me that he knows more than he ought."
"Very likely," replied the princess, with perfect composure. "I doubt if Waldemar has made any investigations himself. He knows what the superintendent knows, and, what is no longer a secret in L----, that we take sides with our own people. Deeper insight into our affairs is as impossible to him as to others; we have taken all necessary precautions. His whole conduct shows his indifference to matters which do not concern him personally in the least, and he has too nice a sense of honor to compromise his nearest relatives. He has proved this in the case of Superintendent Frank; although he would prefer to have the man remain, he sides with me."
"You will not listen!" said Wanda, resignedly. "Let the future decide which of us is right. Now grant me one favor, dear aunt; allow me to return home to-morrow morning."
"So soon? It was arranged that your father should come for you."
"I remained only to have an undisturbed conversation with you upon this subject. It has been in vain,--so let me go."
"You know, my child, that I like your company," said the princess, "but I cheerfully consent to your immediate departure. You and Waldemar did not exchange two syllables at dinner; if you cannot be a little more courteous at these unavoidable interviews, you had better go."
"Then I will inform papa that he need not come here for me: will you allow me a few moments at your writing-desk?" Wanda went into her aunt's study, which was separated from the drawing-room by a half-drawnportière, and seated herself at the writing-desk. She had scarcely written a line when the drawing-room door opened hastily, and she heard a well-known step, so firm and heavy that it was not drowned like other footfalls in the soft, thick carpet. Then Waldemar's voice resounded close beside her, on the other side of theportière. She laid down her pen, and as she could not make her escape without passing through the drawing-room, she remained motionless in her place. Not a word spoken in the next room escaped her.
After a hurried good evening, Waldemar sat down at his mother's side, and began to converse upon indifferent matters. He had taken an album of water-color paintings from the table, and was turning over the leaves, while the princess reclined against the sofa-cushions, and mentally asked herself what could be the cause of this unusual and unexpected visit.
"Have you heard that your superintendent Frank is about to purchase an estate?" she asked at length. "His situation here must have been very lucrative, for, so far as I know, he was without property when he came."
"He has had a large income for the past twenty years," said Waldemar, without raising his eyes from the album, "and he must have saved fully half of it."
"And he has, no doubt, made good use of his opportunities. Have you chosen his successor?"
"No."
"One of your tenants, the man who rents the Janowo estate, has become financially embarrassed, not through any fault of his own, and is obliged to return to a salaried position. I believe him especially fitted for Villica."
"I do not think so," replied Waldemar, very deliberately. "His management has been inexcusably bad, and he has brought on his own ruin."
The princess bit her lip. "Who told you this?" she asked, at length. "The superintendent, most likely."
Waldemar made no reply, and his mother went on in an irritated tone:
"I have no desire to influence you in the selection of your subordinates, but for your own interest I warn you not to give full credence to Frank's calumnies. He does not want this man for a successor, and he is intriguing against him."
"That can hardly be," returned Waldemar, coldly; "he knows that I have decided to dispense with a superintendent, and take the management of my estates into my own hands."
"You yourself? I am astonished."
"You need not be; I have been trained for the position. Frank will remain until spring, and initiate me into all the details."
He said this very calmly, not taking his eyes from the album, whose paintings seemed to absorb his whole attention. He did not notice the look of anxious scrutiny with which his mother scanned his face as she said,--
"But you led us to infer that your visit would be very short."
"I intended to make it so, but I find that my estates need a master's care; and besides--I have something to say to you, mother."
He closed the album, and laid it on the table. Now, for the first time, the princess felt that Wanda's instinct had been more correct than her own penetration. She saw the storm coming, and prepared to meet it.
"Speak," she said, coolly, "I will listen."
Waldemar rose and gazed reproachfully at his mother. "When I offered you Villica as a home," he said, "I gave you entire control of the castle, but the estates were my own."
"Has any one disputed your right to them?"
"No one; but I now see what it meant to leave them for years in Polish hands."
The princess also rose, and confronted her son proudly and defiantly. "Do you hold me responsible for this mismanagement?" she asked. "Lay these grievances rather to the charge of your guardian, who for twenty years pretended to control your estates. You must deal with your subordinates, and not with me."
"Frank is the only one of them who still recognizes me as master," exclaimed Waldemar, bitterly; "all the others are at your beck and call. They do not openly refuse to obey me, but they evade my orders whenever they conflict with yours."
"You are dreaming," said the princess, with an air of affected superiority; "Frank has prejudiced you even against your mother."
"I have not trusted to his reports, I have made close scrutiny with my own eyes; and now I ask you, who has transferred the leased estates from German to Polish hands, and that, too, upon ruinous terms and without guaranties or security? Who has confided the management of the forests to a body of men who care nothing for my interests, but who will render good service to your cause? Who, finally, has made the superintendent's position so intolerable that his only alternative was resignation? Fortunately he had the energy to summon me to the rescue, and I have come at this late hour to find all in revolt against me. You have recklessly sacrificed everything to the interests of your family and your cause,--my servants, my property, and even my reputation, for I am supposed to be in league with you. Your four years' control of my estates has brought them to the verge of ruin. You know this as well as I; you have known it all along, but your only aim has been to prepare Villica for the Revolution."
The princess had listened in silent and ever increasing astonishment; this was not the first time that she had heard just such words in these very rooms. The elder Nordeck had often enough reproached his wife with sacrificing everything to family traditions, but bursts of fury had been his only method of opposition. He had sought to attain his end by torrents of threats and rude invective which had only elicited contemptuous smiles from his proud, fearless wife. She had well known that thisparvenupossessed neither mind nor character, that both his likes and dislikes sprang from the basest impulses, and her disdain for the man was only equalled by her indignation that she had been compelled to accept him as a husband. She would not have been at all surprised if Waldemar had enacted a similar scene before her eyes; the fact that he did not, confounded her. He faced her with perfect composure, and with annihilating certainty hurled at her accusation after accusation, proof after proof. That mental excitement which he so powerfully repressed was only too evident; the vein on his right temple swelled portentously, and he clutched convulsively at the back of the chair near which he stood. His look and voice, however, betrayed nothing; they were entirely under control.
Some moments elapsed before the princess answered; her pride would stoop to no denial or concealment, and both, in fact, would have been useless. She could rely no longer upon Waldemar's blindness; she must resort to new tactics.
"Your fears are exaggerated," she said; "do you really apprehend that all Villica will break out in revolt, merely because I have now and then used my influence in favor of my protégés? I am sorry if any of them have abused my confidence and failed in their duty to you; but unreliable people abound everywhere, you have only to discharge all such as are in your service here. Why do you reproach me? When I came here, the estates were virtually without a master; as you did not concern yourself about them, I felt justified in assuming control, and my management has been better than that of your agents. I have certainly managed in my own way. I have always openly sided with my family and my country. My whole life bears witness to this, and I require no justification at your hands. You are my son, as well as the son of your father; the blood of the Morynskis also courses through your veins."
Waldemar started as if impelled to protest vehemently against this assertion, but controlled the momentary impulse.
"For the first time in your life you concede to me a share in your own blood," he rejoined, bitterly; "hitherto you have only regarded me as a Nordeck, and despised me accordingly. What if this sentiment has never been expressed in words, are not looks fully as eloquent? I have often observed the glance with which your eyes have turned from Leo or from your brother to rest upon me. You have sought to banish every remembrance of your first marriage as a humiliation and a disgrace; as the wife of Prince Zulieski, and the mother of Leo, you did not trouble yourself about me; you would never have come to me if circumstances had not compelled you. I do not censure you in the least; my father may have wronged you deeply, so deeply that you cannot possibly love his son; let us not therefore appeal to emotions and sympathies which have never existed between us. I shall very soon be compelled to prove to you that not a drop of the Morynski blood courses through my veins. You may have bequeathed it to your Leo--I am made of other material."
"I see it," said the princess, half despairingly,--"of other material than I thought. I have never known you."
Waldemar did not seem to notice the remark. "You understand perfectly that I shall henceforth assume control of my estates," he said. "I have one question to ask you: What was the object of the conference you held last evening, and which was protracted until nearly dawn?"
"That is my own affair," replied the princess, in an icy, repellent tone. "I am at least mistress in my own apartments."
"Certainly, in so far as you yourself are concerned; but I shall not allow Villica to be used any longer as an insurrectionary focus. Here you have held your conclaves, from here orders have been sent to and fro over the frontier. The castle-cellars are full of arms; you have collected a whole arsenal."
The princess turned deathly pale, but this blow did not shake her confidence. Not a muscle of her face moved as she asked, "Why do you say all this to me? Why do you not go to L---- and reveal your discoveries? You have displayed such remarkable talent as a spy that it would be very easy for you to turn informer."
"Mother!"
This one word, a furious, indignant outcry, escaped the young man's lips, and his clenched hand descended upon the back of the chair in a blow that crushed the frail, delicately carved wood to atoms. The old passion again blazed forth, threatening to bear along with it all that self-command so painfully acquired through these four past years. The princess saw that this her eldest son, who stood before her, was his father's true heir in violence and fury; his whole frame trembled, and his face was so distorted by rage that his mother involuntarily placed her hand upon the bell-knob to summon help. This movement brought Waldemar to his senses; he turned hastily away and walked to the window.
A few silent, painful moments followed. The princess felt that she had gone too far; she saw how mightily her son wrestled with his anger and what the struggle cost him; she also saw that the man who could thus control an unfortunate natural disposition, the fatal inheritance he had received from his father, was an opponent not easily silenced or overthrown.
When Waldemar again stood face to face with his mother, the struggle was over, the victory won. His arms were crossed over his breast, his lips still quivered, but his voice was calm and steady.
"When you confided my brother's future to my 'magnanimity,' I did not dream of this result. 'Spy!' You call me so because I seek to unveil the secrets of my castle. I could apply to you a word of more evil import. Who enjoys hospitality in Villica, you or I, and who has betrayed it?"
The princess frowned. "We will not contest this matter," she said. "I have merely done what right and duty demanded, and now, what do you intend to do?"
Waldemar, after a moment's silence, replied in a subdued voice, and with an emphasis upon every word: "To-morrow I shall go to P---- on business, and remain a week. Before my return, Villica must be freed from every semblance of disloyalty. Transfer your arms and your secret assemblies to Radowicz or wherever you will, my domains must be rid of them. Shortly after my return I shall give a large hunting-party, in which the governor of the province and the officers of the garrison at L---- will participate; as mistress of the house, you will of course have the courtesy to join your name with mine in the invitations."
"No!" replied the princess, emphatically.
"Then I will sign them alone, as the invitations must be issued in any event. The time has come for me to take my stand upon the question now agitating our whole province. You are at liberty to keep your room from feigned illness on that day, or to go to your brother's; but you must consider whether it is best to have the breach between us become public, and therefore irreparable. It is in our power to forget this interview. If you comply with my demands, I shall never again remind you of the matters we have discussed to-day. You must decide upon your own course of action. You can tell Leo and your brother what I have said to you,--they had better hear it from your lips than mine; I certainly desire no rupture."
"And what if I will not obey the orders you so tyrannically impose upon me?" asked the princess defiantly. "Supposing I should contest your claim to the entire inheritance, and assert my right to Villica, which should have been my widow's dower? The courts would never do me justice, but there is a public opinion higher than all law; do you dare defy it by breaking your word to your mother and brother, and exposing them to the bitterest poverty and dependence, while you revel in luxury?"
"Do as you please," returned Waldemar; "but do not hold me responsible for what may happen."
They stood face to face, eye to eye, and that similarity between the two which had hitherto escaped the notice of all but Wanda, was now fully evident. Both faces wore the same expression: an iron will that was ready to stake everything in the furtherance of its plans. Now, as they stood there confronting each other, ready to engage in a life-and-death conflict, for the first time they showed that they were really mother and son, perhaps for the first time they felt this truth.
Waldemar stepped close to the princess, and laid his hand upon her arm.
"I have left the way open for mymotherto retrace her steps," he said, emphatically; "but I forbid the Princess Zulieski's concocting party schemes upon my estates. If she goes on doing this, if she forces me to extreme measures, I shall carry them out, even if I must see you all--"
He stopped suddenly. His mother saw how he trembled, how the hand which held hers with an iron grasp instantly relaxed and fell powerless at his side. In mute surprise she followed the direction of his glance which was fixed upon the study-door. Wanda stood upon the threshold. Unable longer to keep back, she had come forward with a sudden impulse, and thus revealed her presence.
A flash of triumph shot from the eyes of the princess; she had found at last the vulnerable spot in her son's heart. Although the next moment he had mastered his emotion, and stood there self-poised and imperturbable as before, it was too late--that one unguarded moment had betrayed him.
"Well, Waldemar," she asked, and a tone of irony vibrated through her voice, "are you offended because Wanda has been a witness of our interview? A large portion of it concerned her. For her sake as well as mine, you must complete your threat: 'Even if you must see us all--'"
"As the Countess Morynski has witnessed our interview, no explanation is needed; I have none to make." Then turning to his mother, he added, "You have a week for your decision. I leave early to-morrow morning." He then bowed formally to Wanda as was his wont, and left the room.
Wanda had stood motionless on the threshold. She now entered the room, and approaching her aunt, she asked in a low and strangely tremulous voice,--
"Do you believe menow?"
The princess had sunk back upon the sofa. Her eyes were still fixed upon the door through which her son had passed; she seemed neither able nor willing to comprehend what had just taken place.
"I have always judged him by his father," she said as if speaking to herself; "the error is a fatal one to us all. He has shown that he is--"
"That he is more like you, Aunt Maryna," interrupted Wanda. "Leo inherits your features, but Waldemar is the true heir of your character. You have just been confronted by an energy and a will that are your very own. Waldemar resembles you more closely than Leo ever did."
There was a tone in Wanda's voice that arrested her aunt's attention.
"And who taught you to read this character so accurately?" she asked. "Was it your enmity toward Waldemar which made you see so clearly when all the rest of us were deceived?"
"I do not know," returned Wanda, casting down her eyes. "I think it was intuition rather than observation that guided me, but from the first I knew that he was our enemy."
"That does not matter," replied the princess, confidently; "he is my son and must remain so. You are right; he has shown me to-day for the first time that he really is my son, but for this very reason his mother can cope with him."
"What will you do?" interposed Wanda.
"I will take up the gauntlet he has thrown down. Do you imagine that I shall yield to his threats? We will wait and see if he really means to resort to extreme measures."
"He means what he says, depend upon it. Do not count upon any relenting or submission in this man. He will sacrifice you, Leo and us all, to what he considers right."
The princess gazed searchingly into the excited face of her niece. "He may perhaps sacrifice his mother and brother," she said, "but I now know where his strength falters; I know what he will not sacrifice, and it shall be my care to present this test at the decisive moment."
Wanda gazed at her aunt without comprehending her; she had observed nothing further than Waldemar's sudden silence, which her unexpected appearance fully accounted for, and his cold, repellent manner toward her and his mother.
"Prompt action is necessary," said the princess. "My brother first of all must be informed of the state of affairs. Waldemar's unexpected departure removes the necessity of your leaving us at once; you will therefore remain, and immediately summon your father and Leo back to Villica. No matter what other business demands their attention, they must come, for vital questions are at stake. I will send your letter this very day by a courier, and they can be here by to-morrow evening."
Wanda assented. She re-entered the study, took a seat at the escritoire, and again wrote to her father, little suspecting the part she was to act in the execution of her aunt's schemes. That "childish folly" long since overcome and forgotten, assumed a new importance when it became evident that Waldemar still remembered it, and was influenced by it. It had once aided the princess in obtaining control of Villica, why should it not again aid her? The mother could not forgive her son for having so decidedly and offensively disclaimed all ties of kindred with the Morynskis. For this very reason he should be thwarted by a Morynski, even if he could not be thwarted by his mother.