Upon the forenoon of a cool but bright and sunny day in May, Superintendent Frank was returning from L----, the nearest railway station, where he had gone to meet his son and daughter, Professor and Madame Fabian. The new academic and marital dignities well became the professor. The old, depressed look was gone, his face was no longer "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;" he seemed in cheerful, almost buoyant spirits. The young wife, always intent upon maintaining her husband's position, wore a grave, important, almost solemn aspect, which was in striking contrast to her fresh, youthful appearance. Happily, she often forgot the part she had so carefully studied, and became the merry, saucy Gretchen Frank of the old girlhood days. At this moment, however, the professor's wife was in the ascendant as she sat very erect in the carriage at her father's side, and told him of the new life at the university city.
"Yes, papa, this visit home will be such a rest and recreation for us," she said, passing her pocket-handkerchief over the blooming face, which certainly indicated no need either of rest or amusement; "the university makes so many and such constant demands upon our time, and our social position involves such a round of visits and receptions and so many other cares. We German scholars, to-day, stand in the van of intellectual progress; we are the profound thinkers of the world."
"You really seem to stand very much in the van," replied the superintendent, who had listened to Gretchen's remarks in mingled surprise and amusement. "Tell me, child, who occupies the chair of Ancient History at the University of J----; you or your husband?"
"The husband and the wife are one," said Gretchen, sagely; "if it had not been for me, Emil would not have accepted the professorship, as great a scholar as he is. Only day before yesterday, Professor Weber remarked to him in my presence, 'Professor Fabian, you are a treasure for our university, but you are out of your element in practical life; you are fortunate in having a wife who so energetically represents you there.' And he was right,--wasn't he, Emil? Practically and socially, you would be lost without me,--wouldn't you?"
"Wholly and entirely so!" returned the professor, emphatically, and with a look of grateful affection at his wife.
"Do you hear, papa? he acknowledges it," said Gretchen, triumphantly. "Emil is one of the few men who fully appreciates his wife. Hubert never would have done so,--but, appropos of the assessor, how is he nowadays? Has he become government counsellor?"
"No: and I fear he never will. He has at last become indignant at the lack of appreciation paid to his great abilities, and has tendered his resignation. Next month he leaves the public service."
"What a loss for the prime ministry!" exclaimed Gretchen, laughing; "he was sure of one day attaining that position, and rehearsed his ministerial part constantly while he sat in our parlor. Is he still haunted with the idea of unearthing conspiracies and traitors everywhere?"
"I do not know," replied Herr Frank. "I have scarcely seen him since your marriage. He has not entered my house since he rushed from it so incontinently on that evening which proved fatal to his matrimonial hopes. I cannot blame him, Gretchen, but I do blame you; you ought to have told him the news more considerately. But the assessor needs no pity; he is now quite a wealthy man, being the chief heir of Professor Schwarz, who died a few months ago."
"Probably of a bilious fever," added Gretchen.
"Gretchen!" said the professor, imploringly and reproachfully.
"Heaven knows he had a bilious temperament!" continued Gretchen. "He was as irritable as you are patient. Only think of it, papa! Just after his call to J----, Emil wrote the professor a courteous, modest letter, in which he really apologized for being his successor, and solemnly declared his innocence of all participation in the university quarrel. The letter was never answered, and now that this unamiable celebrity has left the world, my husband feels called upon to dedicate to him a posthumous eulogy, deploring the loss to science as if this professor had been his best friend."
"I did so in good faith, and from sincere conviction," replied Fabian, in his gentle, earnest way. "The professor's morbid character often robbed him of the appreciation which was justly his due. I felt it my duty to remind the world of the loss science has suffered in his death. He was a man of great learning and ability."
Gretchen's lips curled in scorn. "I don't care what he was!" she said. "Let us change the subject. Herr Nordeck is not in Villica."
"No," said Herr Frank, curtly; "he is away."
"Yes; he wrote to my husband that he thought of going to Altenhof, and might remain there for some weeks. It is strange that he should leave Villica just now, when so many things there demand his attention."
"Altenhof is his old home," said the professor. "It has been left him by will, and nothing can persuade him to sell the estate. It is only natural that he should wish to revisit the scenes of his youth."
Gretchen looked incredulous. "Waldemar Nordeck is not a man to cling to sentimental remembrances," she said. "This visit is merely a pretext: perhaps he is seeking by change of scene to divert his mind from its passion for the Countess Wanda. Polish women are insane in their national fanaticism; this young girl will not give her hand to the man she loves because he is a German! I would have married my Emil if he had been a Hottentot. And now my dear husband is fretting continually over the supposed unhappiness of his beloved Waldemar, seriously imagining that this man has a heart like other men. Nothing can make me believe such an absurdity!"
"Gretchen!" said the professor a second time, and with an effort at severity which was an entire failure.
"I'm sure I don't believe it; why should I?" reiterated the young wife. "If a man has a secret sorrow he will manifest it in some manner. Herr Nordeck rules Villica in a high-handed sort of way that betrays but very little sensibility, and when he was groomsman at our wedding he did not manifest the slightest feeling."
"He is a man so reticent by nature that if he were dying of an unhappy passion he would make no sign," said Fabian.
"A man whose unhappy love is never evident has no deep feeling," persisted Gretchen. "Your woe-begone look was visible a dozen paces off. Those few weeks before our betrothal, when you really thought I was going to marry the assessor, you went about with such a rueful face! I pitied you from the bottom of my heart, but you was so timid I thought you never would muster up courage to make a declaration."
Herr Frank had taken no part in this conversation; the road which for a short distance led along by the river-bank, began to be very bad, and required careful driving. The damage done by the late high water had not yet been repaired, and passage was difficult, although the superintendent declared that it was not dangerous. Gretchen would not trust his assurance; she insisted upon leaving the carriage and going over the bridge on foot. Both gentlemen followed her example, and all three took the upper footpath while the carriage slowly passed over the bridge below.
They were not the only timid ones; another carriage had reached the opposite end of the bridge, and its inmate had also alighted. After advancing a few steps they found themselves suddenly face to face with the assessor.
The unexpected meeting was fraught with painful embarrassment to both parties, as their last interview had been upon that evening when the assessor had left Gretchen's presence in a rage at the sudden announcement of her betrothal to Doctor Fabian. All felt, however, that their friendship was of too long duration to allow them to pass each other as mere strangers. Herr Frank stepped up to the assessor as if nothing had happened, and offered his hand in the old cordial way, expressing great pleasure at seeing him again.
The assessor had assumed his most dignified attitude. He was dressed in black from head to foot. He wore a crape band around his hat and another around his left arm; he was paying due respect to the memory of his illustrious uncle, but the inheritance must have distilled some balsam into the heart of the sorrowing nephew, for he looked like anything rather than an image of despair. His face to-day wore a peculiar expression: an exalted self-satisfaction, a conscious greatness; he was evidently in the mood to forgive all the world and to make peace with all mankind. After a moment's hesitation he grasped the superintendent's proffered hand, and returned his friendly greeting.
The professor and Gretchen now advanced. Hubert threw a reproachful glance upon the young wife, who, in her travelling hat with its floating veil, certainly looked charming enough to awaken a regretful feeling in the heart of her former adorer. He bowed distantly to her and then turned to the professor.
"Professor Fabian," he said, solemnly, "you, too, sympathize with the great bereavement which our family, and with it all science, has suffered. The letter you some time ago wrote to my uncle convinced him that you had no part in the intrigues which had been set on foot against him; that you at least could recognize his great services without envy. He himself expressed this conviction to me; he did you full justice. Your beautiful eulogy of your predecessor does you great honor, and is a most gratifying source of consolation to his surviving relatives. I thank you in the name of the family."
Fabian cordially pressed the speaker's hand. The hostility of Professor Schwarz and the resentment of Assessor Hubert had pressed heavily upon his soul, although he had not done either any intentional injury. He gave his heartfelt sympathy to the afflicted nephew.
"Yes, we have deeply lamented the loss of Professor Schwarz at the university," said Gretchen, and she was unprincipled enough to add many words of sorrow and condolence for the death of the man she had thoroughly hated without knowing him, and whom she could not forgive, even in the grave, for his criticism of the "History of Ancient Germany."
"And have you really tendered your resignation?" asked Herr Frank, changing the subject. "Are you about to leave the state service, Assessor Hubert?"
"Yes, I shall leave in a week," replied Hubert, "but will you allow me to inform you that I must be addressed by a new title. I"--he again made a dramatic pause, a far longer one than that which had preceded his attempted declaration of love, and scanned the three persons before him one by one as if he would prepare them each and all for an astounding piece of news; then he drew a deep breath, and with a smile of infinite rapture illuminating his face, he added: "Since yesterday I have been Government Counsellor!"
"Thank heaven--at last!" said Gretchen, half aloud, while her horrified husband grasped her by the arm, to keep her from further indiscreet utterances. Hubert, fortunately, had not heard the exclamation; he received with a dignity suited to the greatness of the moment the congratulations of Herr Frank and the good wishes of the married pair. His conciliatory mood was fully accounted for: the new government counsellor stood upon a pedestal far removed from any slights and affronts that had been experienced by the former assessor. He forgave everybody, and especially the state which had so long ignored him.
"The promotion really changes none of my plans," he resumed. "The state sometimes recognizes too late the ability of its servants, but I bear no resentment. The die is now cast; but some police duties require my aid, and in the last week of my official career an important mission is confided to me. I am on my way to W----."
"Over the border?" asked Fabian, in astonishment.
"Certainly; I have to consult with the authorities there in regard to the capture and transportation of an arch-traitor."
Gretchen threw a glance at her husband, which plainly said, "There, he is beginning again!" but Frank, whose attention was all at once aroused, remarked, in a tone of assumed indifference,--
"I think the insurrection is at an end."
"But conspiracies still exist," cried Hubert, excitedly; "we have just now a striking verification of this fact. You, perhaps, do not know that Count Morynski, the leader, the very soul of the insurrection, has escaped?"
The professor and his wife were speechless with astonishment, but the superintendent said, calmly, "It really is not possible!"
The new government counsellor shrugged his shoulders. "It is, unfortunately, a secret no longer," he said; "it is a topic of common remark in L----. The Princess Zulieski is no doubt at the bottom of the affair; that woman is a menace, to the whole province. The count, you are aware, was sentenced to transportation; all such prisoners are very strictly guarded, but his friends have in some way aided him to escape. There is great excitement over the incredible boldness of the undertaking; the whole region has been searched for three days, but not one trace of the fugitive has been discovered."
Fabian had at first listened only with lively sympathy, but as Hubert dwelt upon the boldness of the undertaking, he began to grow uneasy. An undefinable suspicion seized him; he was about to question Hubert further, when he met his father-in-law's warning glance, and relapsed into an awe-stricken silence.
Gretchen had not remarked this silent understanding between her father and her husband, and she listened without embarrassment to Hubert's further remarks.
"The fugitive cannot have gone far, for his flight was almost immediately discovered. He has not yet passed the border, that is certain. He will probably first take refuge in Radowicz; Villica, thank heaven, is now closed to traitors, although Herr Nordeck is not there at present."
"No," said Herr Frank, emphatically, "he is at Altenhof."
"I know it; he informed the governor of his intended departure. It is fortunate that he is absent, and will be spared the pain of seeing his uncle captured and delivered up."
"What! will you deliver him up?" asked Gretchen, excitedly.
Hubert gazed at her in amazement. "Certainly! He is a criminal and a traitor."
The young woman glanced first at her husband and then at her father; she did not understand why neither shared her indignation, for Herr Frank looked indifferent, and Fabian did not utter a word. But our brave Gretchen was not easily intimidated. She indulged in some not very flattering remarks upon the German government and its officials, at the same time eulogizing the Poles, whose patriotism and devotion to liberty were, she declared, worthy of a better fate. Hubert listened in horror. For the first time he thanked God that he had not made this woman his wife--the wife of a government counsellor! She had just shown him that she was not fit to be the wife of a loyal officer; there was treason in her veins.
"If I were in your place I would decline such a service," she said; "you might do so, the time for your resignation being close at hand; I would not close my official career with the delivery of a poor, half-dead, hunted prisoner into the hands of his tormentors."
"I am government counsellor," returned Hubert, solemnly emphasizing the title, "and I must do my duty. My country commands--I obey. But I see that my carriage has passed the dangerous place safely. Farewell! Duty summons me." He bowed and withdrew.
"Did you hear, Emil?" asked the young wife, when they were again seated in the carriage. "Hubert has become government counsellor, and a week before resigning his police duties to enter upon the new position, he sets out on a fool's chase after another conspirator. He can never be a counsellor of the government except in name. I really believe he has bought the place with the money his uncle left him; but if he has only the title, he cannot do any more harm."
Gretchen dwelt at some length upon the details Hubert had given them concerning Count Morynski's flight, but she received only short and absent replies. Her father and husband had grown very reticent; the conversation would not flow back into its former channel. A malign influence had seemed to follow that accidental meeting with Hubert, and Gretchen was heartily glad when they at last reached Villica.
As the day passed, the "Frau Professorin" was every hour thrown into new surprise and vexation. Her father was perfectly incomprehensible. Upon meeting his children at the station he had embraced them fondly; he must be delighted with their present happiness and their future prospects; but still he seemed somewhat annoyed at their presence just now. He had a preoccupied air, and declared that he was overwhelmed with business. Immediately upon their arrival he had taken his son-in-law into his private office, and had remained alone with him for nearly an hour.
Gretchen was indignant at not being invited to this secret interview, and her indignation increased when she found that she could not learn anything of its purport from her husband. She kept her eyes and ears wide open; she recalled several incidental remarks which had been made by her father and husband during the journey, and by combining them very skilfully, she at last arrived at a conclusion which was perfectly satisfactory to her own mind.
Dinner was over, and the married pair found themselves alone in the family sitting-room. The professor, quite contrary to his usual habit, was pacing uneasily up and down. He tried vainly to conceal his inward perturbation, and was so deeply absorbed in thought that he did not remark the silence of his usually talkative wife. Gretchen sat upon the sofa, and for a long time gazed intently at her husband. At length having studied her mode of attack, she advanced valiantly to the charge.
"Emil," she began, with a solemnity which Hubert himself had never equalled; "Emil, I am outrageously treated here!"
Fabian stopped short, and gazed at his wife in alarm and horror. "You? Good heavens! By whom?"
"By my papa, and, what is worst of all, by my own husband."
The professor rushed to his wife's side and seized her hand, but with a very ungracious mien she snatched it from him.
"Yes, the way in which I am treated is perfectly outrageous!" she reiterated. "You show me no confidence, you have secrets from me, you treat me like an ignorant child,me, a married woman, the wife of a professor in the University of J----; it is atrocious!"
"Dear Gretchen," said Fabian, meekly, and then he stopped suddenly.
"What has papa been telling you? Why have you not confided it to me? Why were you two so long closeted together? What are these momentous secrets between you? O, you needn't deny it, Emil; you know that you and papa have secrets that you don't tell me."
The professor attempted no denial; he gazed at the floor, and looked very much depressed. His wife gave him a reproving glance.
"Well, then, I shall tellyou," said Gretchen, "since you will not trust me. There is another plot in Villica, a conspiracy, as Hubert would say. Papa is involved, and is drawing you into it. The object of the plot is the liberation of Count Morynski."
"Child, for God's sake be silent!" cried Fabian, in dismay; but Gretchen paid no heed to the entreaty; she went on without a moment's pause.
"And Herr Nordeck is not in Altenhof; if he were, you would not be so anxious about him. What do you care for Count Morynski and his flight? Ah, but I know why you tremble! Your beloved Waldemar is with him. I shouldn't wonder if he himself had liberated the count; it would be just like him."
The professor was dumb with amazement at his wife's penetration, and at the clear, logical way in which she had stated the case. He thought her incredibly clever, and yet he was horrified as she counted out to him on her fingers the secrets he had believed impenetrable.
"And no one tells me a word of all these things," continued Gretchen, in ever-increasing indignation, "not a word, when you and papa both know that I can keep a secret. Who saved an outbreak at the castle by sending Assessor Hubert on a fool's errand over to Janowo; who, indeed, if not I alone? You hadn't a thing to do with it. The princess and the Countess Wanda always know what is going on; the Polish women are the confidants of their fathers and husbands; they are allowed to take part in politics, and especially in conspiracies; but we poor German women are always slighted and kept back by our husbands; they humiliate us by the most insulting distrust, they treat us like slaves; they--" The professor's wife could not go on; as a realizing sense of her slavery and humiliation clearly dawned upon her mind, she began to sob aloud. Her husband was almost beside himself.
"Gretchen, my dearest Gretchen, do not weep," he said, entreatingly. "You know that I have no secrets from you which concern me alone, but these secrets concern others, and I have pledged my word not to divulge them, not even to you."
"How can any one exact a promise from a married man to withhold secrets from his wife?" cried Gretchen, sobbing still more violently. "It is not right; it ought not to be required."
"I have for this once given my promise," said Fabian, despairingly. "Now control your emotion! I cannot bear to see you in tears. I--"
"Well, if this isn't a most beautiful display of petticoat government!" interposed the superintendent, who had entered unremarked, and had witnessed the pathetic scene. "My daughter errs in regard to the person who suffers humiliation and slavery. Do you allow yourself to be controlled in this manner, Emil? Do not take it ill of me if I say, that although you are an excellent scholar, you play a most pitiable part as a married man."
He could not more effectually have come to the aid of his son-in-law. No sooner had Gretchen heard the disparaging words, than she rushed to her husband's rescue.
"Emil is the noblest, the dearest, the most excellent of husbands," she said, and her tears straightway ceased to flow. "You need not reproach him, papa; it is only natural that he should love his wife."
Frank laughed. "Do not be so hasty, child," he said, "I meant no harm; and, after all, you excite yourself without cause. We are compelled to draw you into our plot, which you have rightly divined. News has just come that the princess and her niece will be here in the course of the afternoon. You must go over to the castle and receive them, as Waldemar is absent, and would naturally delegate that duty to his friend Fabian and his wife. Our aim is to disarm the suspicion of the servants, who well know that these ladies have not entered Villica for a year. The princess and her niece know what is going on, and will await the issue of events here. I shall drive over to the border-forester's, and wait there with my horses, according to agreement. Your husband will explain the rest to you, my child; I have no time."
He went, and Gretchen received full details of the plot for the count's release from her husband. Her ill-humor vanished, and her face and manner expressed supreme delight at the consciousness that she was at last treated with as much respect as even a Polish woman could demand, and allowed to have her share in the conspiracy.
It was night. The superintendent's house was wrapped in slumber, and the servants at Villica had retired. Lights still gleamed from some upper windows of the castle, and in the embrasure of one of them stood a tea-table, which had been laid as usual, although no one had tasted a mouthful. Gretchen's righteous soul was vexed; she was for the time being mistress here, and liked to see things go on in an orderly manner. She ere long compelled her husband to take a seat at the table, and there gave him a mild but very impressive lecture.
"Do not torture yourself so with anxiety, Emil! Would you see me also ill from excitement, like those ladies in the next room? Their pale faces frighten me. I cannot endure the sight of their silent anguish. I think they prefer for us to leave them alone. Our tea is ready; why should we not drink it together?"
Fabian pushed aside the obtrusive tea-cup.
"Your despondency is past comprehension," added Gretchen. "Waldemar Nordeck carries through all his undertakings; there must be something in the superstition of these Villica people which declares him bullet-proof. He will safely cross the line, and the count with him."
"God grant it!" ejaculated Fabian. "If that Hubert were not on their track, I should be more confident. If he should meet the count and Waldemar in any disguise, he would recognize them."
"Hubert has all his life been doing the most stupid things," said Gretchen, disdainfully; "he will not be likely to do anything clever at this late hour. He will make some blunder or other, you may rely upon that."
The princess and Wanda remained in the adjoining parlor; the lamp which was burning upon a side-table only partially lighted the lofty room, its depths remained in shadow. The princess sat motionless amid the dense shadows, in the same place she had occupied the morning when Leo's unblest return had drawn that fatal catastrophe upon himself and his family. The mother struggled painfully with the remembrances which came thronging around her. What had become of those daring plans, of those lofty hopes and glowing anticipations which had centred here? They all lay in ruins; Bronislaw's rescue was the only boon it was in the power of destiny to offer, but the rescue was only half accomplished, and perhaps at this very moment Waldemar was paying for his hazardous venture with his life.
Wanda stood in the niche of the large central window and gazed out with straining eyes, as if she would pierce the outer darkness. She had opened the window, but she did not feel the sharp night-air; she was not conscious how she shuddered at its chilling breath. No memories of the past, with its blighted plans and hopes, haunted this hour for her; she thought only of the danger of the two beings she loved best on earth, and her heart asserted its right; she trembled most for Waldemar.
It was a cold, foggy night, and no moon was visible. Only now and then a star gleamed forth, to vanish soon behind the clouds. No sound broke the profound silence all around the castle; the park lay dark and still; and amid the pauses, when the wind was lulled to rest, every falling leaf was heard.
Wanda started suddenly, and a half-suppressed cry passed her lips. The next moment the princess stood at her side.
"What is it? Do you see anything?"
"No; but I think I hear a sound of hoofs in the distance."
"I fear it is only imaginary, we have so often been deceived."
The two women leaned far out of the window, and listened in breathless silence. They fancied they heard a sound distant and half audible, but the wind rose anew and drowned it. After some ten minutes of agonized suspense, a sound of muffled footsteps was heard in an alley of the park which led into the forest. By straining their eyes to the utmost, Wanda distinguished amid the darkness two forms emerging from among the trees.
"They are here," whispered Fabian, with white lips, as he burst suddenly into the room. "They are coming down the side-steps, and will enter through the back gate which I opened half an hour ago." Wanda's first impulse was to rush to meet them, but Gretchen held her back. "We are not alone in the castle," she said; "we must be quiet and cautious."
A few moments passed, then the door opened softly. Count Morynski stood on the threshold, and behind him towered up Waldemar's stately form. That very instant Wanda was clasped in her father's arms.
The professor and his wife had tact enough to withdraw, and Waldemar also followed them, giving both a cordial greeting.
"What a desperate undertaking, you have been engaged in, Waldemar!" said Professor Fabian. "Supposing you had been discovered?"
Waldemar smiled. "Before engaging in any bold venture, we must count the chances," he said; "in leaning over a precipice, if we think of dizziness, we are lost. I went straight on to my purpose, looking neither to the right nor the left."
He threw aside his cloak, and taking a revolver from his breast-pocket, he laid it on the table. Gretchen, who was standing near, stepped back.
"Do not be frightened, madam," he said. "The weapon is not cocked; the affair has been carried through without bloodshed. We found an unexpected helper in Assessor Hubert."
"The new government counsellor?" asked Gretchen, in surprise.
"The very same. And so he has really become counsellor! Well, he can air his new dignity over in Poland. We drove across the border in his carriage with his pass and credentials."
The professor and his wife were speechless with amazement.
"O, but he did not grant us this favor of his own accord," continued Nordeck; "he will be sure to call us highway robbers; but necessity knows no law. Our freedom and life were at stake, and we had to act promptly. Yesterday afternoon we arrived at a Polish village-inn, only a dozen miles from the border. The landlord was a Pole, and warned us against pursuing our journey before dusk, as the officers were on our track. Both his sons had served the revolution under Count Morynski, and the whole family would have risked their lives to save him. Toward nightfall our horses stood saddled in the stable, and we were about to depart, when all at once Assessor Hubert appeared at the inn, making inquiries for us. His carriage had received some injury on the way, and he had left it at the blacksmith's to be repaired. The landlord concealed us in the garret, and pretended to know nothing of us. We distinctly heard the assessor down-stairs haranguing, in his usual voluble style, about conspiracies and arch-traitors. In the course of his remarks he gave us the very information in regard to his plans for arresting us which we most of all wished to obtain. No choice was left us; we must leave as quickly as possible. Immediate proximity to danger gave me a happy thought, and I imparted it to the landlord, who at once informed the assessor that his carriage would not be ready for an hour. Hubert was exasperated at the delay, but he consoled himself in a measure by doing ample justice to the very excellent supper which was set before him. Meantime we slipped out at a back-door, and upon arriving at the smith's, we found the carriage in readiness. I stepped inside, my uncle, who passed for my servant, mounted the box, the landlord's son handed him the reins, and we drove out of the village by an unfrequented road.
"No sooner had I entered the carriage than I made an invaluable discovery. The assessor's overcoat lay upon the back seat, and in its breast-pocket I found his letter-case with his pass, his credentials for his present mission, and other valuable papers. I, with my giant stature, could make no use of the pass, but the other papers did me good service, for they contained minute directions in regard to the methods to be pursued in our arrest. We were, of course, unprincipled enough to use for our own benefit the documents issued against us.
"As the assessor had informed the people at the inn that he had passed through A---- that morning, we took a by-road to the next border station, and drove boldly through the town as Government-Counsellor Hubert and his coachman. I showed my papers, and demanded permission to pass on quickly as possible, for fear lest the fugitives I was pursuing might escape me. So great was my apparent haste, that my pass was not demanded. We left our carriage a few miles on this side of the boundary, pursuing the way to our border-forester's on foot. There Herr Frank met us with his horses, and--here we are!"
Gretchen, who had listened intently, could not conceal her delight at the trick which had been played upon her former admirer, but Fabian, always inclined to sympathize with the unfortunate, asked, anxiously, "What has become of poor Hubert?"
"He remains over in Poland, without a carriage and without credentials," replied Waldemar, dryly; "and he may think himself fortunate if he is not looked upon as an arch-traitor. Circumstances are very much against him, and he may even now be enjoying the pleasures he had destined for us."
"What a delightful conclusion of his official career!" exclaimed Gretchen, mockingly, and regardless of her husband's warning glance.
"We may as well let Hubert rest!" said Waldemar. "Shall I not see you both in Villica on my return? I am here to-nightincognito, but in a few days I shall return from Altenhof, where I am supposed to be at present. Now I must greet my mother and my--cousin."
Waldemar re-entered the room where he had left his relatives. The count sat in an easy-chair; both his arms were around Wanda, who knelt before him, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He had aged greatly during these last twelve months. He had left Villica a strong, energetic man, in the prime of middle life; he returned old in body and in heart, broken down by mental and physical suffering.
The princess, who stood near her brother, was first to observe the young man's entrance.
"Are you here at last, Waldemar?" she said, in a reproachful tone, as she advanced to meet her son; "we began to think you was not coming."
"I did not wish to intrude," replied Waldemar, hesitatingly.
"Will you always insist upon remaining a stranger to us? Have you not been so long enough? My son," she added, extending both arms to him, "I thank you."
For the first time since infancy Waldemar was clasped in his mother's arms. In that long, fervent embrace years of estrangement, strife, and bitterness vanished; that cold, hostile barrier which had separated two beings who belonged to each other by the holiest and nearest ties of kindred, was broken down. The son had at last won his mother's love.
The count rose and offered his hand to his deliverer. "Thank him your whole life long, Maryna," he said; "you do not know what he has dared for me."
"The venture was not so great as it appeared," returned Waldemar. "I smoothed the way beforehand. Wherever prisons exist, bribery is possible, and golden keys sometimes unlock the strongest doors. I have hitherto set little value upon the wealth that came to me without any effort or merit of my own, but I have at last learned its worth."
Wanda still kept close to her father, holding him fast, as if she feared he might again be torn from her. She had not uttered a word of thanks, but her glance spoke more than words. Waldemar understood that silent language, and was content.
"The danger is not over," he continued; "Hubert's papers, which are now in my hands, authorize your arrest and extradition, even here. You must rest a few hours, and then we will leave for S----, which is the nearest seaport, and only a day's journey. An English ship has for four weeks lain there at my disposal; it is ready to sail at any moment, and will carry you directly to England. Upon your arrival there, France, Switzerland, and Italy will be open to you. When once upon the high seas, you are safe."
"And you, my nephew, will you not have to atone for this deed?"
"I have no fears," replied Waldemar; "I am a German, and as such your political enemy. If my connivance in your escape is discovered, it will hardly be considered a crime, since I am your nephew, and hope ere long to be your son."
As Waldemar alluded to the closer tie that would soon bind him to his uncle, the latter was deeply moved; his lips quivered, his features seemed convulsed by some inward struggle. He had fought against his daughter's love for this man with every weapon at his command. For the sake of rending a tie so hated he had consented for Wanda to accompany him into an exile that must be almost certain death. Never had the old national animosity been stronger in his heart than at this moment of shipwreck to all his hopes, but he looked upon the man who had rescued him, who had risked life for his sake, and then he bent down to his daughter.
"Wanda!" he said, softly.
Wanda gazed into his face. Never had she seen it so sorrowful as at this moment. As she read in his eyes what acquiescence would cost him, every selfish wish vanished, and filial love and tenderness alone ruled her heart.
"Not now, not now, Waldemar," she cried, imploringly; "you see what my father has suffered and is suffering still. You cannot ask me to leave him at the very moment of reunion. Allow me to remain a little longer at his side--one brief year more. Shall I let him go into a foreign land, into exile, alone and ill?"
Waldemar was silent. He could not at this moment remind Wanda of her promise; the count's bowed form and broken health pleaded powerfully for his daughter's request, but all the egotism of love asserted itself in the young man's nature. He had done and dared so much to win his beloved, and he could not endure the thought of having the prize longer denied him. His gloomy brow, his set lips, and downcast eyes expressed the protest he would not utter. The princess was first to break the painful silence.
"I will take care of your father, Wanda," she said; "I will go with him."
All started in surprise. "Do I understand you aright, Maryna?" asked the count. "Do you say you will go with me?"
"Yes, into exile," added the princess, in an unshaken voice; "we both know what exile is, Bronislaw; we have tasted it for long years, we will again share it together."
"Never," cried Waldemar, excitedly. "I will not consent to have you leave me, mother. The old strife is buried. The chasm that once yawned between us is closed up. Your place henceforth is at Villica with your son, who--"
"Who is at this moment seeking to Germanize his estates," interposed the princess, gravely. "No, Waldemar, you undervalue the Pole in my nature if you think I can now live in Villica. I love you at last wholly and unselfishly, as a mother should love her child. I shall maintain this love through distance and separation; it will be renewed and strengthened at our occasional meetings in the future; but we can never be one in national ideas and feelings, and did we attempt to live together, the old strife might again break out between us. Therefore let me go; it is best for us both."
"The old strife ought not to intrude into an hour like this," said Waldemar, reproachfully.
"We are not at war with you," replied the princess, sadly; "it is with the destiny that has condemned us to overthrow. My brother is the last of his race--a race which for centuries has been illustrious in the annals of our people. Wanda's name will soon be merged in yours. She is young; she loves you. She may forget the past for your sake. To you two belong life and the future; we have only the past."
"Maryna is right," added the count. "I cannot remain here, and shewillnot. Wanda, too, is the daughter of her people, and will not disown her lineage. I augur no happiness from the marriage of a Nordeck and a Morynski, but your hearts are set upon the union, and--I oppose it no longer."
The young pair had no joyous betrothal. A deep shadow brooded over that hour which is usually so full of sunshine and promise to plighted hearts. But they could not believe the count's mournful augury; they felt that the love which had fought its way through so many conflicts and surmounted so many barriers would bless and sanctify their lives, whatever trials might intervene--that it would remain a love lasting as time and changeless as eternity.
"Come, Bronislaw," said the princess, taking her brother's arm, "you are weary, and must rest. We will leave these lovers alone; they have scarce spoken to each other, and they must have so much to say."
Professor Fabian and his wife had remained in the adjoining room. Gretchen was ill at ease; every now and then she would throw a melancholy glance upon the tea-table, which she had arranged with especial care.
"Why must people, in giving way to their sentimental feelings, always forget what is proper and necessary?" she said, in an aggrieved tone. "The anxiety and excitement are over, so is the meeting; if they would only act like reasonable beings, we might all of us be cosily seated around the tea-table. I cannot persuade the princess or the count to taste a mouthful, but Wanda must certainly take a cup of tea. I have just made some fresh for her. Now I will go and see if she and Herr Waldemar are in the parlor. You stay here, Emil."
Emil, like an obedient husband, heeded his wife's command. He remained keeping guard over the tea-service, but the time seemed very long; ten minutes, at least, had rolled away, and his wife did not return. The professor began to be uncomfortable. He felt so superfluous here; he wished he could only make himself useful in some way, like Gretchen, whose practical nature always asserted itself. He must have the satisfaction of doing something, no matter of how little consequence, and so he poured out two cups of tea, and taking one in each hand, carried them into the next room. To his surprise, he found neither Waldemar nor Wanda there, but his wife was standing close to the library door, which was slightly ajar.
"Gretchen, my love," said Fabian, balancing the tea-cups as carefully as if they held the most precious life-elixir, "I have brought the tea. I was afraid it might become cold, and I thought--I had an idea that perhaps--they would like it."
TheFrau Professorinhad allowed herself to be surprised in a position not quite suited to her dignity. She stood close to the crevice of the door, evidently peeping into the next room, and listening also. Upon hearing her husband's voice, she started in alarm and confusion; but, quickly recovering her equanimity, she seized the professor by the shoulder, and marched him and the tea-cups back to the place they had just left.
"Set down the cups, Emil," she said; "the young countess doesn't want any tea; she won't require any for a long time. And you need have no further anxiety about your dear Waldemar; things are going on very nicely in the room over yonder--very nicely indeed! I may as well confess that I have done the young man wrong; he really has a heart. This cold, stiff Nordeck can actually kneel before a lady, and pour forth his love in the most eloquent and glowing words. O Emil, if you could only hear the sweet, nice things he has been saying to her! I certainly could not have believed it."
"But, dear child, how do you know all this?" asked the professor, who, in his scholastic innocence, had never dreamed that anybody could listen at doors or peep through key-holes. "You stood outside."
Gretchen's face flushed crimson, but her discomfiture was only for a moment; she looked her husband full in the face, and said, with an air of great superiority,--
"What an absurd question, Emil! You do not understand such things at all; you would not understand if I should tell you. As the tea is poured out, we will drink it ourselves."