ZARKA’S WARNING
There was a note of jeering exultation in the Count’s voice as he
called to them, as it were a warning that it was no use their trying to
escape him. They were clearly in view and could but come forward.
“So our forest has even now no terrors for you, Fräulein,” the Count
cried, hiding, as was his wont, any particular feeling that may
have been uppermost in his mind. “I trust---- Ah, I see you have a
protector. It is good. Well met, Lieutenant.”
His greeting was suave, almost hearty, a good deal too polite, both the
lovers thought. He met Von Tressen’s salute with his characteristic
fixed smile, and turned to Philippa.
“You are coming back to Gorla’s? Yes? You will let me bear you company.”
Intention rather than request was suggested by his tone. The proposal
could not well be refused, and although Von Tressen looked doubtfully
at Philippa, as though he rather expected her to decline the
additional escort, she made but a feeble demur.
“We shall be taking you out of your way, Count.”
Zarka waved his arm deprecatingly. “My way,” he returned readily, “when
I can choose it, is always the pleasantest.”
There was no further objection to be made after the flourish of that
compliment. Zarka had turned his horse, and all three went down the
glade abreast, Von Tressen scarcely hiding his disappointment at the
intrusion, the Count chattering volubly with an excess of small-talk in
which Philippa joined with an effort. Zarka was quite amusing, although
neither of his companions quite appreciated either his witty turns
of speech or his more obvious jokes; but he kept up the flow, as it
seemed quite spontaneously, and insisted from time to time upon drawing
Von Tressen into the conversation by direct appeals to his opinion,
very much to the Lieutenant’s disgust. Chafing at the man’s intrusive
presence, Von Tressen presently saw his opportunity for an attempt to
get rid of him. As they reached a certain point in the forest path he
stopped.
“Our nearest way to Gorla’s Farm is through here,” he said, indicating
a way amid the trees. “We must bid you good-evening now, Count.”
“The path is quite as short,” Zarka declared, checking an ugly look.
“I am sure you will not deprive me of the pleasure of your company.”
“The Fräulein is tired,” Von Tressen maintained. “It would scarcely be
fair to ask her to walk all the way round by the road.”
“I tell you that way is equally short,” Zarka insisted, with a grin
such as the wolf may have used to mask his feelings towards Little Red
Riding Hood.
“You must pardon me, Count,” Von Tressen replied sturdily, “I know this
part of the forest well. We cut off a good quarter of a mile by taking
the way I suggest. Were we all three mounted the longer route would be
of no account.”
The suggestion of selfishness was so obvious that the Count found a
direct answer inconvenient.
“The other would be impossible, then,” he remarked curtly.
“But now,” Von Tressen pursued, “as we two are on foot and the Fräulein
has walked far, I feel I ought to insist upon her taking the short cut.”
Zarka gave a scornful laugh. “You insist?” Then he snarled, “I tell you
there is no difference.”
“Pardon me, Count, you are mistaken.”
“And you are somewhat presumptuous, Herr Lieutenant,” Zarka flung back
with a vicious flash in his eyes, “to think to teach me my way about
the forest.”
All this time Philippa had remained silent; the veiled altercation had
been so rapidly carried on as to give her scarcely an opportunity of
interposing. But now, when it was evident that neither man would give
way, and that a quarrel was imminent, she spoke.
“Let us keep to the path. It is good of you, Herr Lieutenant, to wish
to spare me fatigue, but I am not so very tired.”
The look she gave Von Tressen as she appealed to him was such that he
could no longer continue to insist upon the shorter way. There was in
it entreaty and distress which, even putting aside his love, he could
not ignore. So, distasteful as it was to yield to such an adversary, he
could only bow and acquiesce.
“After all, the Fräulein is the judge; we forget that, Lieutenant,”
Zarka observed, with a little exulting laugh as they moved on again.
The talk was now not quite so easy. Zarka addressed his whole
conversation to Philippa, by his manner ignoring Von Tressen
altogether. It was a great relief to her when the house was reached,
and at the gate she turned to her lover and bade him farewell, the
words she spoke and which Zarka could hear being but an inconsiderable
part of the message which her eyes gave, and which that amiable noble
could not see. It was naturally most distasteful to Von Tressen
to have to leave them together, and he chafed at the idea that the
Count was free of the house while he remained an outsider; but he
told himself that for a week to come he must bear it, and was too
high-minded and chivalrous to attempt to stay against Philippa’s wish.
But as he walked away, after exchanging formal salutations with the
Count, his mind began again to dwell bitterly on the mystery which lay
between him and his love, and which he so longed to bring to an end.
He was roused from thoughts which at every step were becoming more
tormenting, by the thud of a cantering horse behind him. Feeling
somewhat happier in the knowledge that Zarka had not stayed at the
farm, he resolved not to turn or take any notice of him, but to let
him ride on, which doubtless after what had passed between them, would
be the other’s intention. But it was not so. As he drew level, Zarka
reined in his horse, and addressed Von Tressen in a sharp tone which
was more of a novelty than a surprise.
“I should like a few words with you, Herr Lieutenant.”
“I am at your service, Count,” he responded, with as much show of
indifference as he could command.
“We need not stop,” Zarka proceeded, for the Lieutenant had halted and
faced round. “What I have to say,” he continued, “is a simple affair.
It is merely to warn you off forbidden ground. You understand?”
“Hardly.” The sternness of Von Tressen’s face as he answered showed
that he had at least a suspicion of what the other was driving at. “I
should like to know where I have trespassed.”
“I am referring to Fräulein Harlberg,” Zarka said bluffly. The suave
manner was gone, politeness was a negligible factor now.
“Kindly explain yourself, Count,” Von Tressen said, with a touch of
defiance.
“Certainly,” Zarka returned, with a confident smile. To be forced to
speak out was manifestly nowise distasteful to him. “I have to request,
Lieutenant,” he proceeded in a sharp tone of authority, “that you will
discontinue your woodland rambles with the Fräulein.”
Von Tressen flushed hotly. “By what right, do you make that demand?”
“I have a perfect right to do so,” Zarka returned coolly. “But for the
moment it is enough that I am commissioned by Herr Harlberg to convey
this request to you.”
“If Herr Harlberg objects to my escort for his daughter,” Von Tressen
retorted warmly, “he may tell me so himself. As for your demand,
Count, I regard it as an insult. I am a soldier and noble, and----”
“No doubt,” Zarka interrupted with a deprecating wave of the hand. “We
need not go into that. It is not the question. If you choose to ignore
the communication of Herr Harlberg’s wishes, so be it. Now, Lieutenant,
I have to inform you that I object.”
“You?”
“I. Aubray, Count Zarka.” The teeth were showing now in the wolfish
grin as he reined up his horse, and the two men faced each other.
“On what ground, pray, Count Zarka?”
The lord of Rozsnyo gave a shrug of haughty indifference. “Is it
necessary to explain that--even to you?” he asked with a sneer.
“If you please.” The young man insisted sternly.
The Count met his look with a scornful smile. “There can be but one
reason. If you are so dense that you cannot comprehend it, I must leave
you to find out. Only I have warned you, and you will do well not to
slight my warning.”
“I shall do as I please, Count,” Von Tressen replied, longing to refute
his suggestion by proclaiming himself Philippa’s betrothed husband, and
yet restrained in honour from violating his implied promise to her.
“As a man of the world, you must be aware that the Fräulein herself is
the proper person to determine who her companion shall be. And I shall
certainly not avoid her society unless she bids me do so.”
“So!” Zarka’s exclamation was not unlike a bark. “If you do not take
warning when it is given you, my young friend, you may find yourself
in trouble--or worse.” There was an evil blaze in the fierce eyes as
he spoke, like the light in those of a thwarted beast of prey. “My
intention was not to argue but to warn you off.”
“And I,” Von Tressen retorted, “have no intention of submitting to any
interference, even from Count Zarka.”
“Then you defy me?” the Count cried, with an ugly scowl.
Von Tressen smiled. “I hope there is no question of defiance, Count,”
he replied coolly. “But if you mean to suggest that you expect me to be
afraid of you, I must ask you to excuse me.”
“You are a bold fellow,” Zarka returned, with, at any rate, the
semblance of coolness. “No man has ever yet successfully defied Aubray
Zarka. If you think it worth while to try to be an exception do not
blame me for the consequences. You do not know my power. I have warned
you.”
“I am a soldier, Count,” Von Tressen rejoined simply, “and my
profession admits fear of nothing but dishonour.”
“We shall see,” Zarka sneered, as he saluted and rode on.
He had, before riding after Von Tressen, spoken but a few hurried,
darkly resentful words to Philippa, judging, perhaps, that it was
hardly a favourable moment for making headway with his suit.
“Let me thank you, Fräulein,” he had said, “for coming my way instead
of the Lieutenant’s. I hope you are not very tired?”
“I am rather,” she answered coldly.
“And yet,” he said significantly, “your walk was broken by a long rest,
and doubtless a pleasant one.”
She looked up bravely at the dark face bent insinuatingly down to her.
“A long rest, Count?” she repeated, as though not comprehending.
“Among the rocks,” he replied meaningly.
Then she knew for certain that the eyes that had glared at her from
between the rocks were those of no wild animal, but of a being far more
evil-minded and quite as pitiless.