A TRANSFORMATION.
Weeks had passed; the summer was drawing to a close, and the harvest at
Altenhof was unusually abundant. Herr Witold, who had been out in the
fields the whole forenoon overseeing his workmen, had returned to the
house faint and weary, intending to take a much-needed and well-earned
rest. While making the needful preparations, his glance fell upon his
foster-son, who stood at the window in riding-costume, awaiting the
appearance of his horse.
"Are you really going to C---- in the heat of the day?" he asked, in
mingled surprise and anger. "You will get sun-struck in that two hours'
ride over a shadeless road. You seem unable to exist without visiting
your mother at least three or four times a week."
The young man frowned. "I cannot go contrary to my mother's wishes when
she asks to see me," he said. "Since we are so near, she has a right to
demand frequent visits from me."
"Well, she is making good use of her authority. Still, I should like to
know how she has managed to make an obedient son of you. I have been
trying it in vain for nearly twenty years; she succeeded in a single
day. But she always did understand governing pretty thoroughly."
"Uncle Witold, you know better than any one else that I allow no one to
rule me," Waldemar replied, angrily. "My mother has met me with
overtures of reconciliation which I can not and will not reject, as you
have done ever since I was under your guardianship."
"No doubt they frequently tell you over there that you have attained
your majority. You emphasize this fact a great deal of late; but there
is no need of it, my boy. You have always had your own way, and often
sorely against my will. Your becoming of age is a mere matter of form,
so far as I am concerned, but it is a thing of more consequence to your
princess-mother. She knows perfectly well what she is about, and this
is why she is constantly reminding you that you are your own master."
"Why these everlasting suspicions? Shall I give up all intercourse with
my relatives simply because you do not like them?"
"I wish you could put the affection of your clear relatives to the
test," rejoined Witold. "They would not make such an ado over you if
you were not master of Villica. Now don't fly into a passion! We have
disputed so much of late about this matter, that I won't have my noon
nap disturbed by it to-day. Your precious relatives will soon leave
C----, and then we shall be rid of the whole pack."
Waldemar deigned no reply. He paced up and down the room impatiently.
"I'd like to know what they're about there in the stable," he muttered,
impatiently. "I gave orders to have Norman saddled, but the groom must
have gone to sleep."
"You seem in a prodigious hurry to get away," said Herr Witold. "I
actually believe they give you some magic potion over in C----, so that
you find peace nowhere else. You are always impatient now when out of
the saddle."
Waldemar's only reply was to whistle softly and beat the air with his
riding-whip.
"Will the princess return to Paris?" Witold asked, abruptly.
"I do not know; it has not been settled where Leo will finish his
studies. My mother will accompany him wherever he goes."
"I wish he would study in Constantinople, and that his princess-mother
would go with him to Turkey; then they would be out of the way,--for a
time, at least. This young Zulieski must be a prodigy of learning; you
are always harping upon his acquirements."
"Leo has learned far more than I, and yet he is nearly four years
younger."
"His mother, no doubt, has kept him constantly at his books; but he
probably has had but one tutor, while six have run away from you, and
the seventh is tempted to remain only for reasons connected with his
own scientific researches."
"And why have _I_ not been kept at my books?" asked young Nordeck,
excitedly and reproachfully.
"I really believe the boy blames me because I have let him have his own
way in everything!" exclaimed Witold, in an injured tone.
"O, no. You meant well, uncle, but you don't know how I feel at seeing
Leo ahead of me in all his studies, especially when I hear them all
speaking of his need of further culture, and I standing there so
uncultivated, so-- But, never mind, I may as well tell you at once: I
am going to the university."
Herr Witold was so astonished that he let the sofa-cushion he was in
the act of arranging, fall to the floor.
"To the _university_?" he repeated.
"Certainly. Doctor Fabian has for months been urging it."
"And for months you have refused."
"I have entirely changed my mind. Leo is going next year; and if he is
ready to enter at nineteen, it is high time I were there. I must not
remain the inferior of my younger brother. I shall consult Doctor
Fabian to-morrow. Now I will go to the stable myself and see that
Norman is saddled. I am all out of patience at waiting so long."
With these words he took his hat from the table and rushed out of
doors. Herr Witold sat motionless on the sofa, quite forgetting to
arrange the cushions for his afternoon siesta. He was too much
surprised and excited for repose.
"Doctor, what has happened to the lad? What have you done to my boy?"
he angrily cried out to the inoffensive doctor, who was just entering
the room.
"I?" echoed the poor doctor, in alarm; "nothing, Herr Witold. Waldemar
has just gone out from your presence."
"I do not mean to reproach you," returned Herr Witold, peevishly; "it
is those Zulieskis and Morynskis. Since they have had him in hand he
has become a changed being, I can do nothing with him. Only think, he
wants to go to the university!"
"Ah, indeed!" returned the doctor, with a smile of satisfaction.
The guardian became still more exasperated at the tutor's evident
delight. "O, you seem in ecstasies," he said; "you desire nothing more
than to get away from here with your pupil, and leave me without a
living soul to keep me company."
"You well know that I have always advised a university course for your
ward. Unfortunately, I have never been listened to, and if the princess
Zulieski has persuaded Waldemar to take this step, I can only consider
her influence a salutary one."
"Go to the devil with your salutary influences!" cried the old man,
hurling the unoffending sofa-cushion into the middle of the room. "We
shall soon see what lies concealed under all this. Something has
happened to the lad: he wanders about in broad daylight as if dreaming;
he takes no interest in anything around him, and when questioned,
gives the most preposterous answers. He returns empty-handed from the
chase--he who never missed his aim; and all at once a dogged resolution
enters his head to go to the university! I must find out the cause of
this transformation, and you, doctor, shall help me. You must accompany
him to C----."
"For heaven's sake, don't think of such a thing!" cried Doctor Fabian.
"No, and a thousand times no! What should I do there?"
"Keep your eyes open. Something is going on over there, I have no doubt
of that. I cannot go myself, for I stand on a war-footing with the
princess, and there is always a pitched battle when we meet. I cannot
endure her patronizing ways, and she is horrified at my rudeness. But
you, doctor, stand on neutral ground; you are just the man."
The doctor still protested. "I am not at all qualified for such a
mission," he said; "you know my timidity and helplessness in the
presence of strangers, and particularly of ladies. And, besides,
Waldemar will never consent to my accompanying him."
"Your protests are of no avail," interrupted Herr Witold, in a
dictatorial tone. "You must go to C----, Doctor Fabian; you are the
only person in whom I can place confidence. You will not fail me when I
most need you." And he stormed the citadel of the doctor's never
stubborn will with such an avalanche of entreaties, reproaches, and
arguments, that the poor man, half bewildered, yielded, promising to do
all that was required of him.
A sound of horse's hoofs was heard outside. Waldemar gave the rein to
his fleet Norman, and without even a glance at the window where his
guardian sat watching him, galloped away.
"There he goes!" said Witold, half angrily, half admiringly, as his
adopted son swept past. "That boy sits his horse as if he and his horse
were cast in bronze. And it is no slight matter to manage Norman."
"Waldemar has a peculiar passion for riding wild, young horses,"
observed the doctor, with a touch of anxiety. "I do not understand why.
Norman should be his favorite; he is the most unmanageable beast in the
whole stable."
"That is the very reason," said the guardian, laughing. "If the young
fellow does not have something to subdue and to break, he cannot be
happy. But come now, doctor, we will talk over your mission. You must
begin the affair diplomatically."
So saying, he grasped the doctor's arm, and almost forced him to take a
seat near him on the sofa. The poor tutor could do nothing but submit
patiently; he had all his life yielded to the will of others, and now
his only protest was to murmur sadly, yet scarce audibly,--
"_I_ a diplomatist, Herr Witold? God help me!"