Some weeks had passed by, and the young proprietor's arrival had
wrought no change worth mentioning at Wilicza. His presence was hardly
noticed, for, as the Princess had rightly supposed, he was seldom at
the Castle, but spent his days roaming about the forests and
surrounding neighbourhood. The old passion for sport seemed to have
taken possession of him again, and to throw everything else into the
shade. He did not even appear regularly at meal times. His wanderings
generally led him so far afield that he was forced to turn into some
ranger's house, or into some farm for refreshment. This was of very
frequent occurrence. On such occasions he would return late and tired
out, and would spend his evenings chiefly in his own rooms, in Dr.
Fabian's company, only appearing when obliged so to do in his mother's
drawing-room.
After the first few days Leo had given up going with his brother, for
it turned out, indeed, that the two differed very widely in their ideas
on the subject of sport. The young Prince was in this, as in all else,
rash, fiery, but not enduring. He shot all that came within reach of
his barrel, scouted no obstacle when in pursuit, and found a decided
pleasure in anything which added a spice of danger to the work in hand.
Waldemar, on the other hand, followed with tenacious, indefatigable
perseverance, the whole day through, if necessary, the game he had
selected at the outset, giving no thought to rest or recruitment, and
imposing on himself fatigue and hardships which only his iron frame
could have withstood. Leo soon began to find it wearisome both to body
and mind, and unpleasant to the last degree; so that, on making the
discovery that his brother greatly preferred to be alone, he was very
glad to leave him to his own society.
Thus, though the three daily saw and spoke to each other, it could
hardly be said that they lived a life in common. Waldemar's stern,
almost repellant manner had in no way changed, and his reserve grew
rather than diminished in this closer intercourse. After weeks passed
under the same roof, neither the Princess nor Leo had advanced a step
nearer intimacy with him than on the day of his arrival; but such
intimacy was not needful. They were glad that the young man's conduct
tallied so completely with the suppositions they had formed. As
regarded social relations, he even showed a docility they had not
expected. For instance, he did not refuse to make a return visit to
Rakowicz, and the communications between the two castles were more
frequent than ever. Count Morynski and his daughter often came over to
Wilicza, though they but seldom found the master of the house at home.
The only thing which occasionally caused the Princess some annoyance
was the attitude preserved towards each other by her elder son and
Wanda. This remained absolutely unchanged; it was cold, constrained,
hostile even. The mother had tried several times to step in and
mediate, but always unsuccessfully. At last she gave up the idea of
curing two 'stubborn young heads' of their obstinacy. The whole thing
was unimportant, except as it might give pretext for a rupture.
Matters, however, were not carried to such lengths. Waldemar was always
as gracious to the Count as his ungracious nature would permit; and,
for the rest, he did his relatives the pleasure, of withdrawing from
their society as much as possible, so leaving them to their own
devices.
All Wilicza was astir, it being an occasion of one of those great
hunting festivities which were wont to gather the whole neighbourhood
together at the Castle. As usual, every invitation issued had been
accepted, and the company, which consisted exclusively of the Polish
nobility from the surrounding chateaux, was more numerous than ever.
Great was the Princess's satisfaction that she had not been forced to
modify her arrangements out of regard to her son. She would naturally
have so far sacrificed herself as to regulate the invitations according
to his wishes, but no such question was ever mooted. Waldemar seemed to
take it as a thing of course that his mother's circle of acquaintance
should now be his; and, seeing the very small part he took in such
social relations, the matter may well have appeared immaterial to him.
He himself held intercourse with no one in the neighbourhood; he even
avoided those connections which the Princess had thought of not without
apprehension, and made friends neither among the higher class of
officials at L----, nor the officers of that garrison, though he had
met most of the latter in other places. In these circles young Nordeck
was looked on as belonging altogether to the Baratowski faction, and as
being completely under the influence of his mother, who would, it was
declared, permit no foreign element so much as to approach him.
The hunting party was unusually late in setting out. A solid wall of
thick fog, drawn up round the house and closing in the view a few paces
off, had in the morning threatened to interfere with the whole
expedition. A little before noon, however, it cleared sufficiently for
the programme to be put into execution, with this single exception that
the breakfast was taken at the Castle, instead of in the forest.
Part of the guests were already making ready to start. The gentlemen
and younger ladies who were to join in the hunt, were taking leave
of the Princess, as she stood with Leo in the centre of the great
drawing-room. Any one unacquainted with the real circumstances must
have supposed the young Prince to be the master of Wilicza, for he and
his mother formed the central point to which all converged. They
accepted all the polite speeches, claimed all the attentions and
interest of the company, and did the honours with a distinction and
dignity of bearing which left nothing to be desired; while Waldemar
stood at the window, apart and almost overlooked, in conversation with
Dr. Fabian, who, as a matter of course, was to remain behind at the
Castle, but who had come down to join the breakfast party.
This demeanour on the part of the head of the house struck no one as
strange, he having always voluntarily chosen this subordinate _role_.
He seemed persistently to consider himself as his mother's guest who
had nothing to do with the entertainment of visitors, and declined all
participation in it as troublesome and disagreeable to him. So the
custom had gradually grown up of paying no special regard to one who
made so little claim to consideration. Gracious words were spoken to
him on coming and going. When he condescended to take part in the
conversation, he was listened to with some show of attention, and the
sacrifice was even made of speaking German in his presence, great and
general as was the objection felt to that language; but, in spite of
this, he was only nominally master in his own home, and it was known
that his passivity in this capacity was a thing of great price. All
vain attempts to break through the obstinate reserve in which he
delighted to enwrap himself had long been abandoned; and, on the whole,
the guests assembled beneath his roof took no more notice of him than
he of them.
"Pray do not ride so wildly again, Leo," remonstrated the Princess, as
she parted from her younger son with an embrace. "You and Wanda seem to
vie with one another in attempting the most hazardous feats. I
seriously beg of you to be prudent on this occasion;" and, turning to
her elder son, who now came up to her, she held out her hand with cool
affability. "Goodbye, Waldemar; you must be quite in your element
to-day."
"That I certainly am not," was the somewhat ill-humoured answer. "These
great conventional gala meets, when the woods are full of traqueurs and
huntsmen, and the game is driven right before your barrel for you to
shoot without any trouble, are decidedly not to my taste."
"Waldemar is never happy but when he is alone with his beloved rifle,"
said Leo, laughing. "I have a strong suspicion that you dragged me
through the thickest bushes and over the deepest bogs, and exposed me
to hunger and thirst, with the settled purpose of getting rid of me as
soon as possible. I am not exactly a novice in such matters, but after
the first three days I had enough of the horrible toil you call
pleasure."
"I told you beforehand that our views on the subject would differ,"
said Waldemar, coolly, as the two left the drawing-room together and
went down the steps.
A number of the visitors had already assembled below on the great lawn
before the Castle, and among them were Count Morynski and his daughter.
The gentlemen were with one voice admiring Nordeck's beautiful horse,
which he had but lately sent for and which had only arrived the day
before. They acknowledged that, in this respect at least, the master of
Wilicza had shown consummate taste.
"A splendid creature!" said the Count, patting the animal's slender
neck, a caress received by its object with all due patience. "Waldemar,
is this really the wild Norman you used to ride at C----? Pawlick was
in great anguish of mind each time he had to hold his bridle, for the
beast was dangerous then to all who went near him. He seems to have
grown remarkably gentle."
Waldemar, who had just come out of the house with his brother, drew
near the group.
"Norman was very young and new to the saddle in those days," said he.
"He has learned to behave himself since then, just as I have learned to
give up rough riding. But as to the gentleness of the animal, ask Leo
what he thinks of it. He found out what it was worth when he tried to
mount him yesterday."
"A devil of a horse!" cried Leo, in a tone of irritation. "I think you
have trained him to go on like a mad creature directly any one but
yourself puts his foot in the stirrup; but I will get the better of him
yet."
"You had better let it alone. Norman obeys me, and no one but me. You
will never get control over him. You might have found that out
yesterday, I should have thought."
A dark flush spread over the young Prince's face. He had caught a look
of Wanda's, imperiously calling on him to contradict the assertion. He
did not comply exactly; but the look stung him and added fuel to his
anger, as he replied with some heat--
"If it gives you any pleasure to break in your horse in such a manner
that no one but yourself can mount him, that is your business. I have
certainly not taught my Vaillant any such high art"--he pointed to the
beautiful sorrel his groom was holding for him----"nevertheless, you
would not fare much better with him than I with your Norman. You have
never been willing to make the attempt. Will you try him to-day?"
"No," replied Waldemar, quietly. "Your horse is sometimes very
refractory. You allow him to play all sorts of tricks, and to show
caprices which I could not stand. I should be under the necessity of
ill-using him, and should be sorry to employ violence to your
favourite. Your heart is set on him, I know."
"Well, there would be no harm in trying, Herr Nordeck," put in
Wanda--she had dropped the familiar "Cousin Waldemar" once for all
after their first meeting. "I really think you ride _nearly_ as well as
Leo."
Waldemar moved not a muscle at this attack. He remained perfectly
composed.
"You are very kind to credit me with any skill in horsemanship,
Countess Morynska," he replied.
"Oh, I meant no offence," declared Wanda, in a tone which was still
more damaging than her previous word 'nearly.' "I am persuaded that the
Germans are excellent equestrians; but they cannot, of course, compare
with our gentlemen in the art of riding."
Nordeck turned to his brother without making any reply. "Will you leave
your Vaillant to me for to-day, Leo? At all risks?"
"At all risks," cried Leo, with flashing eyes.
"Do not attempt it, Waldemar," interposed the Count, who appeared not
to approve of the turn the matter had taken. "You have judged quite
correctly. The horse is refractory, and quite unaccountable in his
caprices; besides which, Leo has accustomed him to all sorts of rash
adventures and mad tricks, so that no strange rider, were he the most
skilful in the world, could be a match for him. He will throw you,
without a shadow of doubt."
"Well, Herr Nordeck may put it to the test, at least," suggested Wanda,
"supposing he cares to incur the danger."
"Do not be uneasy," said Waldemar to the Count, who darted a displeased
glance at his daughter. "I will ride the horse. You see how eager
Countess Morynska is to--see me thrown. Come, Leo."
"Wanda, I must beg you to desist," whispered Morynski to his daughter.
"A real feud is growing up between you and Waldemar. I must say you
neglect no opportunity of irritating him."
The young Countess switched her whip sharply against her velvet habit.
"You are wrong, papa. Irritate? This Nordeck never allows himself to be
irritated, certainly not by me!"
"Well, why do you always return to the charge, then?"
Wanda made no answer; but her father had spoken truly. She could let
pass no opportunity of exasperating the man who at one time had blazed
up with passionate susceptibility at a thoughtless word, and who now
met her every attack with the same imperturbable calm.
Meanwhile the attention of the others had been attracted to what was
going on. They knew Nordeck to be a skilful, if a prudent rider; but it
appeared to them a thing of course that he could not in this respect
compare with a Baratowski, and, less considerate than Count Morynski,
they heartily enjoyed the prospect of the 'foreigner's' defeat. The two
brothers were standing by the sorrel now. The slender, fiery animal
struck the ground impatiently with its hoofs, and gave the groom at his
head trouble enough to hold him. Leo took the bridle from the man's
hands, and held the horse himself while his brother mounted, intense
satisfaction beaming in his eyes as he did so--he knew his Vaillant.
Then he let him go, and stepped back.
The sorrel had hardly felt the strange hand on his reins when he began
to give proof of his peculiar temper. He reared, plunged, and made the
most violent efforts to shake off his rider; but the latter sat as
though glued to the saddle, and opposed so quiet but energetic a
resistance to the animal's impetuous violence that at last it succumbed
to its fate, and endured him.
But its docility went no further, for when Waldemar would have urged it
forward it resolutely refused to obey. Nothing could induce it to stir
from the spot. It spent itself in all manner of tricks and caprices;
but no skilful management, no show of energy on the part of its rider,
availed to make it advance a step. Gradually, however, it worked itself
into a state of excitement which was really becoming serious. So far,
Waldemar had remained tolerably quiet, but now his brow began to flush.
His patience was at an end. He raised his whip, and struck the
rebellious horse a merciless, well-directed blow.
This unwonted treatment drove the capricious, spoilt creature
distracted. It gave one bound, scattering right and left the gentlemen
standing round, and then shot like an arrow across the lawn into the
great avenue which led to the Castle. There the ride degenerated into a
wild struggle between horse and rider. The former, frenzied with rage,
fairly battled with its adversary, and visibly tried all the means in
its power to unseat him. Though Waldemar kept his seat in the saddle,
it was evident that he did so at extreme risk to his life.
"Leo, put a stop to this," said Morynski to his nephew, uneasily.
"Vaillant will soon calm down if he hears your voice. Persuade your
brother to dismount, or we shall have an accident."
Leo stood by with folded arms, watching the struggle; but he made no
attempt to interfere. "I did not hide from Waldemar that the horse is a
dangerous one for a stranger to mount," he replied, coldly. "If he
purposely goads it into a fury, he must take the consequences. He knows
well enough that Vaillant will not stand the whip."
At this moment Waldemar came back. He had retained sufficient control
over the reins to force the animal into a given direction, for instead
of careering over the lawn they swept round it in a wide circle. Beyond
this, all guidance was out of the question. The sorrel still violently
resisted the hand which held it in an iron grasp, and tried by
unexpected lightning-like darts and plunges to throw its rider; but
Nordeck's face showed that the old temper was rising within him.
Scarlet to the roots of his hair, with eyes which seemed to emit
sparks, and teeth tightly set, he used his whip and spurs in so
merciless a manner that Leo grew wild with exasperation. He had looked
on composedly at his brother's danger, but this punishment of his
favourite was more than he could bear.
"Waldemar, have done," he cried, angrily. "You will ruin the horse for
me. We have all seen now that Vaillant will carry you. Let him be."
"I shall teach him obedience first." Waldemar's voice vibrated with
passion and excitement. He was past thinking of others now, and Leo's
interference had no other effect than to bring down on the horse still
more unsparing treatment, as a second time they made the tour of the
lawn. At the third round the animal was vanquished. It no longer strove
against its rider's will, but moderated into the prescribed pace, and
at the first hint from the reins came to a halt before the Castle,
completely subdued, it is true, but ready to sink with exhaustion.
Nordeck dismounted. The gentlemen gathered round him, and there was no
lack of compliments on his admirable horsemanship, though the spirits
of the company were evidently damped. Leo alone said nothing. He stood
silent, stroking the trembling, sweating horse, on whose shining brown
coat traces of blood were to be seen--so terribly had Waldemar's spurs
ploughed his sides.
"That was a trial of strength I never saw equalled," said Count
Morynski; but his words were forced. "Vaillant will not so easily
forget the day he carried you."
Waldemar had already got the better of his passion. The flush on his
brow and the full swollen blue vein on the temple alone bore witness to
his inward excitement, as he answered--
"I had to try and deserve Countess Morynska's flattering opinion that I
could ride _nearly_ as well as my brother."
Wanda stood by Leo's side, looking as though she had personally
suffered a defeat which she was ready to avenge at the peril of her
life, so threatening was the blaze of those deep dark eyes.
"I am sorry that my heedless words should have brought down such harsh
usage on Vaillant. The noble creature is certainly not accustomed to
such treatment."
"Nor I to such resistance," replied Waldemar, sharply. "It is not my
fault if Vaillant would not yield to whip and spur. Yield he must,
sooner or later."
Leo put an end to the conversation by ordering his groom, in a loud
demonstrative manner, to lead the sorrel, which was 'ready to drop,'
back to the stables, and there to take all possible care of him, and at
once to saddle another horse and bring it round. Count Morynski,
fearing an outbreak, went up to his nephew and drew him aside.
"Control yourself, Leo," he said, in a low urgent tone. "Do not appear
before all these people with that frowning brow. Do you want to seek a
quarrel with your brother?"
"What if I do?" muttered the young Prince. "Has not he exposed me to
the ridicule of all the hunt by that ill-timed story of his about
Norman? Has not he almost ridden my Vaillant to death? And all for the
sake of a miserable boast!"
"Boast? Think what you are saying. It was you who proposed to him to
try the horse. He refused at first."
"He wanted to show me and all of us that he is master when a mere
display of coarse physical strength is in question. As though any one
ever disputed him that! It is the only thing he is capable of! But I
tell you, uncle, if he challenges me in this way again, my patience
will give way. It would if he were ten times lord of Wilicza."
"No imprudence!" said the Count. "You and Wanda are unfortunately
accustomed to subordinate everything to your own personal impressions.
I can never obtain from her the smallest concession where this Waldemar
is concerned."
"Wanda, at least, can show her dislike openly," grumbled Leo, "whereas
I. There he is standing beside his Norman; together they look the very
picture of composure and tranquillity, but let any one try to go near
either of them!"
The fresh horse was now brought round, and in the general departure
which ensued any little unpleasantness caused by the late incident was
dissipated. It was, however, fortunate that the proceedings of the day
kept the brothers apart, that they were at no time long in each other's
company, else, in the exasperated state of Leo's mind, a rupture would
have become inevitable. When at length the chase was reached, the love
of sport awoke, and, for some hours at least, drove all else into the
background.
Waldemar was wrong in his aversion to these 'great gala meets.' They
presented a brilliant and beautiful spectacle, especially here at
Wilicza, where such _fetes_ were conducted on a right princely scale.
Each forest station was called on to furnish its contingent of men in
full gala uniform. The whole woodland district was alive, fairly
swarming with foresters and huntsmen; but the most imposing sight
of all was the _cortege_ of the hunt itself as it careered along.
The gentlemen, for the most part, fine noble-looking figures in
well-appointed hunting dress, mounted on slender fiery steeds--the
ladies in flowing habits riding by the side of their cavaliers, the
servants bringing up the train; then the blast of horns and the baying
of hounds. It was a scene all aglow with animation. Soon the stag came
flitting by, and shots resounded on all sides, awakening the echoes and
announcing the opening of the day's sport.
Now that the fog had lifted, the weather was all that could be wished.
It was a cool, somewhat overcast, but fine November day. The stock of
deer in the Wilicza chase was considered to be unrivalled, the
arrangements were on all points excellent, and the game was most
abundant. That every effort should be made to regain what had been lost
in the morning was a thing of course. The short autumn afternoon was
fast closing in, but no one thought of staying the sport at sight of
the first shades of twilight.
Some thousand paces distant from the forester's house, which was to-day
to serve as rendezvous, there lay a stretch of meadow, solitary and, as
it were, lost in the midst of the encircling thickets. The close
undergrowth and the mighty trees which fenced it in, made the spot
invisible to all but those who knew where to find it, or who stumbled
on it by accident. Now, indeed, that the chill of autumn had in some
degree thinned the surrounding foliage, access could be had to it more
easily. In the midst of this piece of meadow-land lay a small lake or
pond, such as is often to be found in the heart of the woods. During
the summer months, with its waving reeds and dreamy water-lilies, it
lent to the place a peculiar poetic charm of its own; but now it
brooded dark and bare, fading leaves floating on its surface, its brink
edged by a circle of brown discoloured grass, autumnally desolate like
all its surroundings.
Under one of the trees, which stretched its boughs far out over the
meadow, stood Countess Morynska, quite unattended and alone. Her
retirement must have been a voluntary one. She could not have
accidentally wandered from the hunt, for sounds of the gay party were
to be heard distinct enough, though borne over from a distance, and
close at hand stood the forester's house, where the young lady must
have left her horse. She seemed purposely to have sought, and wishful
to preserve, her present solitude. Leaning against the trunk of a tree,
she gazed fixedly at the water, and yet plainly saw neither it nor any
other feature of the landscape before her. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
Wanda's beautiful eyes could take a very sombre look, as was evident at
this moment. She appeared to be struggling with some feeling of angry
resentment; to judge, however, by the knitting of her white brow and
the defiant curl of her lips, this feeling would not allow itself to be
so easily mastered, but stood its ground firmly. Farther and farther
the hunt receded, taking, as it seemed, the direction towards the
river, and leaving this part of the chase quiet and free. Gradually the
varied, confused tones died away in the ever-increasing distance; only
the dull shots reverberated through the air--then these too ceased, and
all became still, still as death, in the forest.
Wanda must have stood so, motionless, for some length of time, when the
sound of steps and a rustling close at hand attracted her attention.
She raised herself impatiently, and was about to search for the cause
of the disturbance, when the bushes were thrust aside, and Waldemar
Nordeck stepped out from among them. He started at sight of the
Countess. The unexpected meeting seemed as little agreeable to him as
to her, but a retreat now was out of the question; they were too near
each other for that. Waldemar bowed slightly, and said, "I was not
aware that you had already left the hunt. Countess Morynska has the
reputation of being so indefatigable a sportswoman--will she be missing
at the close of the day?"
"I may retort with a like question," replied Wanda. "You, of all
people, to be absent from the last run!"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I have had quite enough of it. The noise
and bustle of such a day destroy all the pleasure of the sport for me.
To my mind all the excitement of the thing is in its chances, in the
trouble one has to take. I miss all this, and, more especially, I miss
the forest stillness and forest solitude."
Quiet and solitude were precisely what Wanda herself had felt in need
of, what she had sought here; but nothing, of course, would have
induced her to admit it. She merely asked--
"You come now from the forester's house?"
"No, I sent on Norman there before me. The hunt is away down by the
river. The run will soon be over now, and they are sure to pass by here
on their return. The rendezvous is close by."
"And what are we to do in the mean time?" asked Wanda, impatiently.
"Wait," returned Waldemar, laconically, as he unslung his gun and
uncocked it.
The young Countess frowned. "Wait!" In a matter of course tone as
though he took her staying for granted! She had a great mind to return
at once to the forester's house; but no! It was for him to withdraw
after disturbing her so unceremoniously in her retreat. She resolved to
remain, even though she must spend some time longer in this Nordeck's
company.
He certainly made no sign of going. He had leaned his gun against a
tree, and now stood with folded arms surveying the landscape. Not once
to-day had the sun succeeded in breaking through the veil of clouds;
but now, at its setting, it gilded them with a bright gleam. A yellow
flame spread over the western horizon, glimmering pale and uncertain
through the trees, and the mists, those first precursors of evening,
began to rise from the meadow ground. Very autumnal did the forest look
with its half-stripped branches and carpet of dry leaves spread on the
ground. Not a trace was there of that fresh sweet life which breathes
through the woods in spring and summer, of that mighty vital force
which pulses then through Nature's veins; everywhere existence seemed
on the ebb, everywhere marks were visible of slow but unceasing decay.
The young Countess's eyes were fixed, darkly meditative, on her
companion's face, as though she must and would decipher some enigma
there. He seemed aware of her observation, though turning from her as
he stood, for he suddenly faced round, and said carelessly, in the tone
of a common remark--
"There is something desolate in the look of such an autumn landscape as
evening comes on."
"And yet it has a peculiar poetic melancholy of its own," said she. "Do
not you think so?"
"I?" he asked, sharply. "I have had very little to do with poetry--as
you know, Countess Morynska."
"Yes, I know," she answered, in the same tone; "but there are moments
when it forces itself upon one."
"It may be so with romantic natures. People of my sort have to learn to
push through life without either romance or poetry. The years must be
endured and lived through one way or another."
"How calmly you say that! Mere patient endurance was not exactly your
forte formerly. I think you are wonderfully changed in that respect."
"Oh, one does not always remain a passionate, hot-headed boy! But
perhaps you think I can never get the better of my old childish
follies."
Wanda bit her lips. He had shown her very plainly that he could get the
better of them. "I do not doubt it," she said, coldly. "I give you
credit for much that you do not see fit to show openly."
Waldemar became attentive. For one moment he looked keenly,
scrutinisingly at the young lady, and then replied quietly--
"In that case you set yourself in opposition to all Wilicza. People
here are unanimous in declaring me a most inoffensive person."
"Because you wish to pass for such. I do not believe it."
"You are very good to ascribe a most unmerited importance to me," said
Waldemar, ironically; "but it is cruel of you to deprive me of the
single advantage I possess in the eyes of my mother and brother, that
of being harmless and insignificant."
"If my aunt could hear the tone in which you say that, she would alter
her opinion," declared Wanda, irritated by his sarcasm. "For the
present, I am certainly alone in mine."
"And so you will continue," said Nordeck. "The world sees in me an
indefatigable sportsman; perhaps, after the trial of day, it may vouch
me a skilful rider--nothing more."
"Are you really bent on sport, Herr Nordeck, all these long days while
you are roaming about with your gun and game bag?" asked the young
lady, fixing a keen look on him.
"And on what else might I be bent, according to your notion?"
"I do not know, but I fancy you are inspecting your Wilicza, inspecting
it closely. There is not a forester's station, not a village, not a
farm, however distant from your property, which you have not visited.
You have even called at the farms leased out to the different tenants,
and you will no doubt soon be as much at home everywhere else as you
already are in your mother's drawing-room. You appear there but seldom,
it is true, and play the part of an indifferent bystander; yet nothing
of what is going on, no word or look, escapes you. You seem to bestow
but little notice on our visitors; yet there is not one of them who has
not had to pass muster before you and on whom you have not pronounced
your verdict."
She had gone on delivering thrust after thrust with a sureness of aim
and decision of manner well calculated to disconcert him, and, for a
moment, he actually was unable to answer her. He stood with a darkened
face and lips tightly pressed together, visibly striving to overcome
his annoyance. It was, however, no easy thing to vanquish 'this
Nordeck.' When he looked up the cloud was still on his brow, but his
voice expressed nothing save the keenest sarcasm.
"You really make me feel ashamed, Countess. You show me that from the
very day of my arrival I have been the object of your close and
exclusive observation. That is indeed more than I deserve!"
Wanda started, and flashed a look, scorching in its anger, at the man
who ventured to return her shaft.
"I certainly do not deny the observation," said she; "but you will feel
perfectly assured, Herr Nordeck, that no personal interest has any
share in it."
He smiled with unfeigned bitterness. "You are quite right. I do not
suppose that _you_ take any interest in my person. You are safe from
any such suspicion on my part."
Wanda would not understand the allusion, but she avoided meeting his
glance. "You will, at least, bear me witness that I have been candid,"
she continued. "It is for you now to admit or to deny the truth of that
which I have observed."
"And if I decline to answer you?"
"I shall infer that I have seen aright, and shall earnestly endeavour
to convince my aunt of the fact that her son is a more dangerous person
than she supposes."
The same sarcastic expression played about Waldemar's lips as he
answered her. "Your judgment may be of the highest order, Countess
Morynska, but you are no diplomatist, or you would choose your words
more cautiously. Dangerous! The term is a significant one."
The young lady involuntarily shrank back in evident alarm. "I repeated
your own expression, I think," said she, recovering herself quickly.
"Oh, that is different. I began to fancy that something was going on at
Wilicza, and that my presence here was looked on as a danger."
Wanda made no reply. She saw now how extremely imprudent she had been
to offer battle on this ground, where her adversary showed himself so
completely her match. He parried every blow, returned her every thrust,
and entangled her hopelessly in her own words, and he had withal the
advantage of coolness and composure on his side, while she was on the
verge of losing her self-command. She saw plainly that she could make
no head in this direction, so she took a rapid resolution, and boldly
tore away the net which her own unguarded words had woven about her.
"Lay aside your tone of scorn," said she, fixing her grave dark eyes
full upon him. "I know that it is not meant for the matter we are
discussing, but solely and altogether for me. You oblige me at last to
touch upon a point which I should certainly have left buried in the
past, were it not that you are continually recurring to it. Whether
such conduct is chivalrous, I will not stay to inquire, but you must
feel as well as I do that it has brought us into a position which is
becoming intolerable. I offended you once, and you have never forgiven
me to the present day. Well"--she paused a moment, and drew a long
breath----"I behaved ill to you then. Will that suffice you?"
It was a strange apology, made even stranger by the haughty tone in
which it was offered, the tone of a proud woman who knows right well
that it involves no humiliation to herself if she stoops to ask pardon
of a man for having made him the toy of her caprices. Countess Morynska
was, doubtless, fully conscious of this, or she would hardly have
deigned to speak the words. They produced, however, a very different
effect from that which she had expected.
Waldemar had stepped a pace or two back; his eyes seemed to look her
through and through. "Really?" he said, slowly, emphasising every word.
"I did not know that Wilicza was worth _that_ to your party!"
"You think ..." cried Wanda, vehemently.
"I think that once already I have had to pay dearly for being the owner
of this place," he interrupted her with a warmth which showed that he
too was roused at length; his tone told of a long pent-up, rankling
irritation. "In those days the object in view was to open Wilicza to my
mother and her interests; now this Wilicza is to be preserved to those
same interests, cost what it may. But they forget that I am no longer
an inexperienced boy. You yourself have opened my eyes, Countess, and
now I shall keep them open at the risk of having my conduct stigmatised
by you as unchivalrous."
Wanda had grown deadly pale. Her right hand, hanging by her side,
clenched itself convulsively in the velvet folds of her habit.
"Enough," she said, controlling herself with an effort. "I see that you
wish for no reconciliation, and that you have recourse to insults in
order to make any understanding between us possible. Well and good, I
accept the enmity you offer me.
"You are mistaken," replied Waldemar, more calmly. "I offer you no
enmity. That would indeed be a lack of chivalry towards ..."
"Towards whom?" cried the young Countess, with flashing eyes, as he
paused.
"Towards my brother's promised wife!"
A thrill passed through Wanda. Strange that the word should strike her
as with a sudden pang. Involuntarily her eyes sought the ground.
"I have postponed offering you my congratulations hitherto," continued
Waldemar. "Pray accept them to-day."
The Countess bowed her head in silent acknowledgment. She herself knew
not what closed her lips, but at that moment she found it impossible to
answer him. It was the first time this subject had been touched on
between them, and the simple mention of it seemed to suffice, for
Waldemar added no syllable to his congratulatory speech.
The yellow flame had long ago died out of the sky, and in its place
had come a dreary, murky grey. The evening breeze swept through the
half-stripped bushes and rustled among the crests of the tall trees,
still partly decked with their gay many-tinted foliage; drooping and
faded it hung now from the branches, leaf after leaf fluttered
noiselessly to the ground, strewing the grass and the surface of the
little lake. Through the scantily clothed boughs came a sort of
low-whispered autumnal lament for the beauty and life which had been so
blooming and verdant in the old sunshiny days, but was now fast sinking
into its grave. Gloomy and weird the forest loomed across with all its
fantastic, indistinct shadows; and here in the vaporous meadow the
moist veil rose, ever thicker and thicker, hovered hither and thither,
finally massing itself over the small piece of water. There it
remained, a white spectral vision, floating uneasily backwards and
forwards, stretching out its great humid arms to the two figures
standing on the brink, as though it would have gathered them to it,
shaping the while before their eyes a thousand forms and pictures, one
pressing back, one flowing into the other in endless variation.
Nothing was to be heard but the monotonous sough of the wind, the
rustle of the falling leaves--yet stay! what sound was that which,
through it all, came like the distant, distant roar of the sea, while
lo! out from the bosom of the seething mists a Fata Morgana rose to
view. There appeared the green branches of mighty secular beeches, all
flooded in the last golden glow of evening, the blue surging sea in its
vast immeasurable greatness. Slowly the burning sun sank into the
waters, and out from the stream of light, which at its contact spread
far over the waves, arose once more the fairy city of the legend in all
its halo of mystic fancy and enchanted splendour. The treasure kingdom
again opened its untold stores, and once again, fuller now and more
resonant than in that hour on the Beech Holm, rang out the bells of
Vineta.
The old tale had not held good in the case of the two who had lived
through that charmed hour together. Hostile and as strangers they had
parted; hostile and as strangers they had since met, and so they now
stood face to face. The youth had become a cold stern man, pursuing in
proud reserve his solitary way through life; the child had ripened into
a happy beautiful woman, but to neither of them had come again that
which yon hour had brought them. Only now, on this dreary autumnal
evening did it all quicken into life anew; and, as the remembrance was
wafted over to them, the years which lay between faded away; hatred,
strife, and bitterness, all grew dim; nothing remained but that deep
inexpressible aspiration towards an unknown happiness which had first
been called into being by the spirit bells of Vineta--nothing but the
old sunset dream.
Waldemar was the first to rouse himself. He passed his hand rapidly
across his brow, as though by an effort of will he would shake off all
these fancies and drive away the vision.
"We should do much better to return to the forester's house, and wait
there for the hunting party," said he, hastily. "The twilight is
falling, and one can hardly breathe in this sea of mist."
Wanda assented at once. She, too, had seen enough of the phantasmagoria
contained in that sea of mist, and was anxious by any means to put an
end to the interview. She raised her habit and prepared to go. Waldemar
threw his gun over his shoulder, and they were about to start when
suddenly he paused.
"I offended you with my suspicions a little while ago, and perhaps I
was unjust; but--be candid with me--was the half apology to which you
condescended really intended for Waldemar Nordeck, or not rather for
the master of Wilicza, with whom a reconciliation is sought in order
that he may abet, or at least shut his eyes to, that which is passing
on his estates."
"So you know ...?" interrupted Wanda, and then stopped in confusion.
"Enough to take from you all apprehension of having been indiscreet
just now. Did they really think me so unintelligent that I alone should
be blind to what is already subject of conversation in L----, namely,
that a party movement is going on, of which Wilicza is the seat, and my
mother the soul and centre. There could be no danger in your owning to
me what the whole neighbourhood knows. _I_ knew it before I came here."
Wanda was silent. She tried to read in his face how much he knew, but
Waldemar's features were undecipherable as ever.
"But that is not the question now," he began again. "I was asking for
an answer to my question. Was that act of self-conquest a voluntary
one, or--had the task been set you? Oh, do not start so indignantly. I
only ask, and you can surely forgive me for looking distrustfully on
any show of friendliness on your part, Wanda."
The young Countess would probably have taken these words as a fresh
offence, and have answered them in an angry spirit, had they not
conveyed a something which disarmed her in spite of herself. A change
had come over Waldemar since he had looked into that mist yonder. He
was hostile and frigid no longer; his voice, too, had quite another
sound--it was softer, almost subdued. A little shock passed through
Wanda as, for the first time for years, he pronounced her name.
"If my aunt at one time made me the unconscious instrument of her
plans, you should accuse her, and not me," she replied, in a low tone;
and, as she uttered them, some invisible power seemed to rob her words
of their sting. "I suspected nothing of it. I was a child following the
impulses of my caprices, but now"--she raised her head proudly--"now I
am accountable to no one for what I do and leave undone, and the words
I spoke just now were spoken on my own responsibility alone. You are
right, they were not intended for Waldemar Nordeck; since he and I met,
he has never given me cause to seek or even to wish for a
reconciliation. My object was to force the master of Wilicza into
raising for once his closed vizier. There is no need for that now. This
interview of ours has taught me what I suspected before, that we have
in you a bitter, a merciless adversary, who will use his power at the
decisive moment, even though in so doing he must trample all family,
all natural ties under foot."
"To whom should these ties bind me, pray?" asked Waldemar. "To my
mother, perhaps, you think? My mother and I know very well how matters
stand between us. She is less disposed than ever to forgive me for
inheriting the Nordeck wealth, instead of her younger son. Or perhaps
to Leo? Well, it may be that some brotherly love exists between us; but
I do not think it would hold good if our ways should chance to cross,
at all events not on his part."
"Leo would willingly have met you as a brother, if you had not made it
too hard for him," interrupted Wanda. "You were always reserved and
distant even with him; but there were times formerly when he could draw
nearer you, when the fact that you were brothers could be discerned.
But now it would be asking too much of his pride to endeavour to break
through the icy barrier you oppose to him and to all those about you.
It would be quite in vain for your mother and brother to come to you
with demonstrations of affection; they would be met by a hard
indifference which cares neither for them nor for any one in this
world."
She stopped, for Waldemar was standing close to her side, and his eyes
were riveted on her.
"You judge very correctly, very unsparingly," he said, slowly. "Have
you never asked yourself what has made me hard and austere? There was a
time when I was not so, at least not to you--when a word, a look could
guide me, when I lent myself patiently to every whim. You might have
done much with me then, Wanda--almost anything. That you were not
willing, that my handsome, chivalrous brother even in those days
carried off the palm was, after all, but natural. What could I have
been to you? But you must understand that the events of those days
formed a crisis in my life, and a man, who--like myself, for
instance--has no turn for constant melancholy, naturally grows hard and
suspicious after such an experience. Now, indeed, I look upon it
as a piece of good fortune that my boyish romance was nipped in the
bud--else my mother would infallibly have conceived the idea of
repeating in our persons the drama which was performed here twenty
years ago, when a Nordeck brought home a Morynska as his bride. You, a
girl of sixteen, would possibly have submitted to the expressed will of
your family, and I--should have shared my father's fate. From that we
have both been preserved, and now the whole thing is over and buried in
the past. I only wished to recall to your mind that _you_ have no right
to reproach me if I seem hard to you and yours.--Will you let me go
with you now to the forester's house?"
Wanda followed him in silence. Angry and ready for the fray as she had
been at first, the turn finally taken by the conversation had struck
the weapons from her hand. To-day again they parted as foes, but they
both felt that henceforth the nature of the struggle between them was
changed--possibly the struggle itself would not on that account be a
less arduous one.
Shrouded in its own misty breath, the meadow lay more and more closely
hedged around by the dusky evening shadows. Over the lake the white
cloud still hovered, but now it was only a formless, ever-shifting mass
of vapour. The dream-picture which had risen from it, had vanished once
more--whether it were forgotten could only be known to the two who
walked on together silently side by side. Here in the dreary autumnal
forests, in the eerie twilight hour, the old sea-legend from out of the
far north had been wafted over to them, whispering anew the prophecy,
"He who has once looked on Vineta will know no rest all his life for a
longing to see the fair city again, even though he himself should be
drawn down by it into the depths."