THE RESCUE.
The border-forester's place was situated in the midst of dense forests,
and close to the boundary. The once large and stately house, which had
been erected here by the elder Nordeck, showed signs of dilapidation
and decay, as it had not been repaired for twenty years. The present
occupant owed his position to the Princess Zulieski. He had been here
three years, his bad management being entirely overlooked by his
mistress, because she knew that he was devoted body and soul to her
interests, and could be relied upon in any emergency. Waldemar seldom
visited this distant portion of his estate, and had only a very slight
acquaintance with the forester. He had, however, of late felt obliged
to interfere, on account of the conflicts between this man and the
soldiers who guarded the German frontier.
Winter still held undisputed sway. Forest and forest-house lay wrapped
in snow, and the dim light of a gray, cloudy sky fell around the chill,
desolate landscape. The forester and his men, numbering three or four
assistants and as many servants, were gathered in a large room upon the
ground-floor. They were all armed, and were awaiting the landlord's
arrival. Waldemar had ordered the forester, Osiecki, and his men to
depart quietly from the place, but appearances did not indicate an
intention to obey. The lowering faces of the subordinates boded nothing
good, and the forester's aspect was that of a man capable of any act of
desperation. These men, who had passed their lives in the solitude of
the forest, were little disposed to law and order, and their leader was
known as one who placed but slight restraint upon his lawless,
passionate nature.
They all maintained a respectful attitude at this moment, for the young
Countess Morynski stood before them. She had thrown back her cloak, and
her pale, beautiful face bore no traces of the agonized conflict
through which she had just passed. Its ruling expression was a stern,
cold gravity.
"You have led us into an unfortunate position, Osiecki," she said.
"Instead of seeking to avert suspicion from this quarter, you
provoke collision with the patrols, and you imperil us all by your
indiscretion. My aunt is displeased with you, and I come to forbid your
again committing any act of violence against any person whomsoever."
The reproof did not fail of its effect. The forester cast down his
eyes, and his voice had an apologetic tone, as, with mingled defiance
and penitence, he answered,--
"What is done cannot be helped; I could restrain neither my men nor
myself. You do not know what it is to remain inactive here upon the
frontier, while every day there is fighting over yonder,--to be obliged
to endure the presence of these domineering soldiers, and not dare to
act, even when we have loaded muskets in our hands. I do not think our
patience will hold out much longer; we lost it entirely day before
yesterday. If I did not know that we were needed here, I should long
ago have been with the army. Prince Zulieski is stationed only a few
miles from here--we can easily find our way to him."
"You must remain," said Wanda, resolutely. "You know my father's
orders. This forester's place must be retained at all hazards, and you
can do more for us here than you could in battle. Prince Leo has men
enough under his command. But now to the main point: Herr Nordeck is
coming here to-day."
"Yes," replied the forester, jeeringly; "he says that he will enforce
obedience. He orders us to Villica Castle, where he can watch us
constantly, and lay his finger upon us at any moment. Nordeck can
command, but the question is, Shall we obey? If he intends driving us
away from here, he will have to call a whole regiment of soldiers to
his aid; otherwise, things may end worse than he imagines."
"What do you mean?" asked the young countess; "do you forget that
Waldemar Nordeck is the son of your mistress?"
"Prince Leo Zulieski is her son and our master," broke out the
forester. "It is a shame for the princess and all of us to be ruled by
this German, just because his father twenty odd years ago intruded
here, and compelled the young Countess Morynski to marry him. The
marriage brought her misery enough, but the son is even worse than his
father. We know the life they lead together; she really would not mourn
his loss any more than she did the loss of his father, and his death
would be the best thing that could happen. Then there would be no need
of issuing secret commands from the castle; the princess would rule,
and our young prince would be the heir and the future master of
Villica, as he ought to be."
Wanda turned pale. The unhappy strife between this mother and son
had gone so far that the tenants on the estate were deliberately
estimating the advantages Waldemar's death would bring to his nearest
relatives--that they even counted upon the forgiveness of the princess
for his assassination! Wanda's worst fears were confirmed, but she knew
that she dared not betray her anxiety by word or manner. She was
respected here as the daughter of Count Morynski, as the niece of the
princess, and she was supposed to speak in the name of the latter. If
her purpose in coming should be discovered, her authority and her
ability to protect Waldemar would end.
"Do not venture to attack your master," she said, with a commanding
air, and as calmly as if she were delivering a message intrusted to
her. "Whatever happens, the princess will spare her son at any cost.
The man who attacks him need hope no mercy. Your disobedience, Osiecki,
has already exasperated your mistress; do not attempt rebellion a
second time."
The forester set down his gun reluctantly, and the other men followed
his example. Wanda, acting as the representative of their mistress,
could have gained her object if more time had been granted her; but
Waldemar's sleigh now drew up before the door, and all eyes were turned
to the window.
Wanda started. "Is the landlord already here?" she said. "Osiecki, open
the side-door for me, and do not betray my presence by a word. I shall
go as soon as he leaves."
Wanda entered a small, dimly lighted room, and closed the door behind
her. Two minutes after, Waldemar appeared in the house. He paused upon
the threshold, and with one sweeping glance scanned the circle of
foresters, who, still grasping their weapons, gathered around their
leader. This was not a very encouraging spectacle for the young
landlord, who had come entirely alone to enforce obedience from his
rebellious subordinates, but his voice and manner betrayed no alarm as
he turned to the forester, and said,--
"I did not notify you of my coming, and yet you seem prepared for it."
"Yes, we are awaiting you," was the laconic answer.
"Armed? And in this attitude? Why are weapons in your hands? Set them
down!"
Osiecki set down his musket, but not beyond his reach; the others did
the same. Waldemar advanced to the middle of the room.
"I come to seek explanation of an _error_ that occurred yesterday," he
said. "My order could not have been misunderstood, for it was sent to
you in writing. The messenger, however, might have misapprehended your
answer."
The forester hesitated; he had not the audacity to repeat to his
master's face what he had said to the messenger the day before.
"I am frontier forester," he answered, "and I intend to remain so as
long as I am in your service, Herr Nordeck. I am responsible for my
district, and must have the management of it."
"You have shown yourself incapable of management; you cannot or will
not hold your men in check. I have warned you repeatedly; yesterday was
the third time, and it is also the last."
"At a time like the present, I cannot prevent my men from coming in
conflict with the patrols," said the forester, defiantly. "My authority
does not extend so far."
"For this very reason you should go to Villica, and leave the control
here to me."
"And my district?"
"Will remain under charge of Overseer Fellner until the arrival of the
new forester. You will leave this place to-morrow, and if you do not
report at Villica with all your men, you will be dismissed."
A threatening murmur was heard. The men pressed close together, and the
overseer confronted his landlord. "That is not so easily done," he
said; "I am no common laborer, to be hired to-day and discharged
to-morrow. You can give me notice to leave if you wish, but I and the
men I have engaged have a right to remain until autumn. I do not wish
to take any other district, and I will not; whoever attempts to drive
me away will repent it."
"The forest is my property," returned Waldemar, "and the foresters must
submit to my authority. Appeal to no right you yourself have forfeited!
If justice were done you, you would receive a severer punishment than
mere transferral. You will either comply with my orders, or I shall
to-day tender this place to the government as a post of observation,
and to-morrow troops will occupy the house."
The overseer made a hasty movement as if to grasp his musket, but he
checked himself.
"You will not do that, Herr Nordeck," he said.
"I shall do it in case of disobedience or opposition. Now tell me
plainly, will you appear at Villica to-morrow, or will you not?"
"No, and a thousand times no!" replied the forester in a towering
passion. "I have orders not to leave here, and I shall go only when
forced to do so."
Waldemar was startled. "Orders? From whom?"
The forester saw his blunder, but it was too late to recall the hasty
words.
"From whom have you received orders?" repeated the young landlord. "Is
it from the princess, my mother?"
"Well, what if it were so? The princess has ruled us for years, why
should she not rule us now?"
"Because the master is himself at hand, and two persons cannot hold the
reins. My mother is my guest; I am ruler of Villica. You say you have
orders not to leave unless forced to do so? Here is something more than
mere insubordination."
The forester maintained an obstinate silence. Through his own
indiscretion he had been guilty of what the princess would have called
treason, and what Wanda's hasty mission was intended to prevent. That
one unguarded word betrayed to Waldemar that the opposition to which he
had thus far attached little importance, was the result of a deep-laid
scheme on the part of his mother.
"We will not discuss the matter further," said Waldemar. "To-morrow
this district will be in other hands. The rest of our business can be
arranged at Villica Castle."
He was on the point of leaving, but the overseer seized his musket and
intercepted him.
"I think we had better come to a final settlement now," he said. "Once
for all, I tell you I shall not leave my place; I shall not go to
Villica; and you shall not go from here until you have revoked your
command!"
The foresters, like well-drilled soldiers, each seized his weapon, and
in an instant the young landlord was surrounded by sullen, threatening
faces--faces which indicated plainly that the men would shrink from no
deed of violence. The man[oe]uvre had been so quick and so well
executed, that it must have been planned. Waldemar, perhaps, regretted
that he had come alone, but he retained his usual composure.
"What does this mean?" he asked. "Am I to take it as a threat?"
"Take it for what you please," said the border-forester, beside himself
with rage; "but you shall not stir from here until you comply with our
terms! It is now our turn to say '_either_--_or_.' Take care, you are
not bullet-proof!"
"You have already made the test, perhaps," the young landlord said,
riveting his gaze upon the forester. "From whose gun did the ball come
that was fired at me when I left here on my last visit?"
The only answer was a gleam of deadly hatred from Osiecki's eyes.
"I have another ball, and so has each of my men. We are ready to put
them to the proof. To come to the point: you must either give us your
word--your word of honor, (for this is more binding with people of your
rank than any written agreement,)--that all of us shall remain here
unmolested, that no soldier shall set foot here, or--"
"Or?"
"You shall not leave this place alive!"
This menace was followed by ominous mutterings from the men. They
pressed more closely around the young landlord, six rifle-barrels
raised threateningly backed the overseer's words, but not a muscle of
Waldemar's face moved as he deliberately eyed the group.
"You are fools," he said, contemptuously; "do you not know that if you
kill me you must suffer the consequences? Such deeds never escape
discovery."
"We are not afraid," replied Osiecki, derisively; "in half an hour we
should be beyond the boundary, in the thick of the fight. None would
call us to account; our own party would thank us for having rid it of a
bitter and powerful enemy. Besides, we are tired of staying here; we
want to join our comrades in the army. Now, I ask you for the last
time, will you give us your word of honor?"
"No!" said Nordeck, without moving from his place, or taking his eye
from the speaker.
"Bethink yourself, Herr Nordeck," cried the overseer, in a voice half
stifled with rage; "consider ere it is too late!"
With a few rapid strides, Waldemar reached the wall, and braced himself
firmly against it.
"No! I repeat; and since we have gone so far, you had better think what
you are about before attacking me. A couple of you at least will pay
with your lives for an attempt to murder me. I can hit as well as you!"
These words let loose the storm which had been so long impending. A
wild tumult arose; angry mutterings, curses, and threats came thick and
fast. More than one man placed his finger upon the trigger of his gun.
The overseer was about to give the signal for a simultaneous attack,
when the side-door opened, and the next instant Wanda stood close to
the imperilled landlord.
Her appearance for the moment restrained the would-be assassins; she
stood so near their master that to fire upon him would endanger her
life. Waldemar was at first confounded by the young girl's mysterious
presence, but the truth soon flashed upon him. Her death-like pallor,
the expression of desperate energy with which she took her position at
his side, told him that she had learned of his danger and was here for
his sake alone.
The danger was too imminent to allow time for explanation. Wanda
confronted the assailants and by turns threatened and commanded them.
Her efforts were fruitless; she resorted to entreaty, but that was
alike unavailing. The men gave her angry and menacing answers, the
forester emphasizing his words with furious stamps and gesticulations.
This vehement conversation, which had been carried on in Polish, a
language little understood by Waldemar, lasted only a few moments; no
one retreated a step, no one lowered his weapon. The men, exasperated
to fury, no longer heeded any authority or control.
"Go away, Wanda," said Waldemar, in an undertone, as he tried gently to
push her aside. "They are about to fire on me, they can no longer be
restrained; give me room to defend myself."
Wanda did not stir, she only kept her place more resolutely; she knew
that Waldemar, if left alone, must succumb, that his only chance of
escape lay in her remaining close at his side. They would not like to
harm her, but the moment was near when even this forbearance would end.
"Stand aside, Countess Morynski!" cried the forester's voice, rising
above the tumult; "stand aside, or I shall hit you too."
He levelled his rifle. Wanda saw his finger on the lock, she saw his
face distorted by fury and hatred, and her self-control vanished. Her
mind harbored only one lucid thought--Waldemar's peril,--and as a last
resort she threw herself upon his breast, and shielded him with her
trembling form.
It was too late; the forester fired, and the next instant Waldemar's
revolver answered. With a hollow cry, Osiecki threw up his arms and
fell lifeless on the floor. Waldemar's ball had hit its mark with
terrible accuracy, but he himself stood upright, and Wanda with him.
The movement she had made in trying to shield him had drawn him out of
the range of the overseer's deadly shot, and had saved both him and
her.
All this had occurred so quickly that none of the men had taken part in
the murderous affray. It seemed that in one and the same moment they
had seen Wanda throw herself on Waldemar's breast, their leader lying
on the ground, and the landlord confronting them ready for a second
shot. A deathlike silence of some moments followed; no one moved.
Immediately after the firing, Waldemar stationed himself before Wanda.
He comprehended the situation at a glance. The door was blockaded, six
loaded muskets opposed his single weapon. If the firing should be
renewed and Wanda attempt to shield him, both would be lost. An
effectual defence was out of the question. Courage even to rashness
alone could avail.
Summoning his whole resolution, he threw himself into the midst of his
assailants; his tall figure towered above them all, and his infuriated
glance flamed down upon the cowards who sought to assassinate him.
"Put down your guns!" he cried, in a loud, imperious voice. "I tolerate
no rebellion upon my estates. The first man who has attempted it lies
there; the next will share his fate. Down with your arms, I say!"
The men stood as if paralyzed, and stared speechless at their master.
They hated him, they were in revolt against him, and he had just shot
their leader. To avenge Osiecki's fall would be their next and most
natural step. They had intended to attack Waldemar, but as he strode
among them and with his bare hand thrust aside their weapons, they
recoiled before him. That old habit of blind obedience, which, without
asking any reason, submits to all commands, asserted itself; it was the
instinctive submission of inferior natures to a superior. They
trembled, and shrunk back from these flaming eyes which they had long
since learned to fear,--from this threatening, commanding brow. The
forester's never-failing ball had passed by this man harmlessly, and he
lay dead upon the floor, shot through the heart. The men cowered back
with a sort of superstitious dread. The levelled guns were gradually
lowered, the circle around the landlord grew wider; he had passed
unharmed through this great peril--he had parried six weapons with one.
Waldemar approached Wanda, and taking her arm, drew her gently to his
side. "Out of our way!" he said to the men, in a commanding tone; "make
room for us!"
The men moved sullenly aside, opening a passage to the door. Not a word
was uttered; in silence they allowed their master and the young
countess to pass through. Waldemar did not hasten in the least; he knew
that the danger was over only for the moment, that it would return with
redoubled force as soon as the men recovered their self-possession and
were conscious of their advantage; but he also knew that the slightest
indication of fear must prove fatal. The power of his eye and voice
still ruled these savage men. He must break away from them before the
spell was over, and this might happen at any instant.
He left the house with Wanda. The sleigh was standing outside, and the
driver, with a terror-stricken face, ran to meet them. Waldemar
assisted Wanda in and sat down by her side.
"Drive slowly as far as those trees," he said to the coachman, in an
undertone, "then give your horses the whip, and make all possible
haste."
The man obeyed; the trees were soon passed, and they flew on like the
wind. Waldemar held the revolver in his right hand, and firmly grasped
Wanda's hand with his left. He retained his defensive attitude until
they were a long distance from the forest-house and all danger of
attack was over. He then turned to his companion, and saw that the hand
he held in his was covered with blood. Heavy drops trickled down the
young girl's sleeve; and the man who had just faced death with such
iron composure, trembled and grew pale.
"It is nothing," said Wanda, in reply to his inquiry; "the overseer's
ball must have grazed my shoulder. I feel the wound now for the first
time."
Waldemar hastily drew out his handkerchief and bound up the wounded
arm. His look and manner betrayed all that was in his heart, and he was
on the point of speaking, when the young girl lifted her pallid face to
his. She said nothing, yet there was such an expression of anxious
entreaty in her eyes, that Waldemar kept silent; he saw that he must
forbear, at least for the present. He uttered only her name, but this
one word conveyed more than a passionate declaration of love.
"WANDA!"
He sought her gaze in vain, her hand lay heavy and cold in his.
"_Wanda!_" he repeated. "Greater love hath no one than this, that he
should lay down his life for his friend. You have imperilled your life
for mine."
"Yes, and I would have died for you," she said, in a faint, hollow
voice that fell upon his ear like an expiring gasp. "But you are the
enemy of my people--and I am the betrothed of Leo Zulieski!"