REUNION.
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 she
_will_ not. 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."
The _Frau Professorin_ had 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."