It was early in the forenoon, and the morning room of the villa in
C----, occupied by the Baratowski family, was, for the time being,
tenanted by the Princess alone. She was absorbed in the study of a
letter which she had received an hour before, and which contained an
announcement from Waldemar that he intended coming over that day, and
should follow quickly on his messenger's steps. The mother gazed as
fixedly at the missive as though from the short cold words, or from the
handwriting, she were trying to discern the character of the son who
had grown so complete a stranger to her. Since her second marriage she
had seen him but at rare intervals; and during the latter years she had
spent in France, communication between them had almost entirely ceased.
The picture she still bore fresh in mind of the boy at the age of ten
was unprepossessing enough, and the accounts she heard of the youth
coincided but too well with it. Nevertheless, it was necessary, at any
cost, to secure an influence over him; and the Princess, though she in
no way attempted to disguise from herself the difficulties in her path,
was not the woman to recoil from the task she had undertaken. She had
risen and was pacing up and down the room, musing deeply, when a quick
loud step was heard without. It halted in the anteroom. Next minute
Pawlick opened the door, and announced "Herr Waldemar Nordeck." The
visitor entered, the door closed behind him, and mother and son stood
face to face.
Waldemar came forward a few steps, and then suddenly stopped. The
Princess, in the act of going to meet him, paused in her turn. In the
very moment of their meeting a bridgeless chasm seemed to yawn open
between them; all the estrangement and enmity of former years rose up
again mighty as ever. That pause, that silence of a second, spoke more
plainly than words. It showed that the voice of natural affection was
mute in the mother's heart, as in the son's. The Princess was the first
to dissimulate that instinctive movement of reserve.
"I thank you for coming, my son," said she, and held out her hand to
him.
Waldemar drew near slowly. He just touched the offered hand, and then
let it drop. No attempt at an embrace was made on either side. The
Princess's figure, notwithstanding her dusky mourning robes, was very
beautiful and imposing as she stood there in the bright sunlight; but
it appeared to make no impression on the young man, albeit he kept his
eyes steadily fixed on her.
The mother's gaze was riveted on his face; but she sought in vain there
for any reflection of her own features, for any trace which should
recall herself. Nothing met her view but a speaking likeness to the man
she hated even in death. The father stood before her portrayed in his
son, trait for trait.
"I counted upon your visit," went on the Princess, as she sat down and,
with a slight wave of her hand, assigned to him a place at her side.
Waldemar did not move.
"Will you not be seated?" The question was put quietly, but it admitted
of no refusal, and reminded young Nordeck that he could not
conveniently remain standing during the whole of his visit. He took no
notice of her repeated gesture, however; but drew forward a chair, and
sat down opposite his mother, leaving the place at her side empty.
The demonstration was unmistakable. For one moment the Princess's lips
tightened, but otherwise her face remained unmoved. Waldemar, too, now
sat in the full daylight. He again wore his shooting clothes, which,
though on this occasion they certainly bore no marks of recent sport,
yet betrayed no special care, and were worlds apart from anything
approaching a correct equestrian costume. In his left hand, ungloved
like its fellow, he held his round hat and whip. His boots were covered
with the dust of a two hours' ride, the rider not having thought fit to
shake it off; and his very manner of sitting down showed him to be
altogether unused to drawing-room etiquette. His mother saw all this at
a glance; but she also saw the inflexible defiance with which her son
had armed himself. Her task was no easy one, she felt.
"We have grown strangers to one another, Waldemar," she began; "and on
this our first meeting, I can hardly expect to receive from you a son's
affectionate greeting. From your early childhood I have been forced to
give you into other hands. I have never been allowed to exercise a
mother's rights, to fulfil a mother's duties towards you."
"I have wanted for nothing at my uncle Witold's," replied Waldemar,
curtly; "and I have certainly been more at home there than I should
have been in Prince Baratowski's house."
He laid a bitter emphasis on the name which did not escape the
Princess.
"Prince Baratowski is dead," said she, gravely. "You are in the
presence of his widow."
Waldemar looked up, and appeared now for the first time to notice her
mourning garb. "I am sorry for it--for your sake," he answered, coldly.
His mother put the subject from her with a wave of the hand. "Let us
say no more. You never knew the Prince, and I cannot expect you to feel
any kindliness towards the man who was my husband. I do not disguise
from myself that the loss I have sustained, cruel though it has been,
has done away with the barrier which stood between, and held us apart.
You have always looked on me exclusively as the Princess Baratowska.
Perhaps now you will recall to mind that I am also your mother, and
your father's widow."
At these last words Waldemar started up so hastily that his chair was
thrown to the ground. "I think we had better not touch on that. I have
come in order to show you that I am under no restraint, that I do just
what I choose. You wished to speak to me--here I am. What is it you
want with me?"
All the young man's rough recklessness, his utter disregard of the
feelings of others, spoke in these words. The allusion to his father
had evidently stung him; but the Princess had now risen in her turn,
and was standing opposite him.
"What I want with you? I want to break through that charmed circle
which an influence hostile to me has drawn around you. I want to remind
you that it is now time for you to see things with your own eyes, to
let your own judgment have free play, instead of blindly adopting the
views which other people have forced upon you. You have been taught to
hate your mother. I have long known it. Try first whether she deserves
your hatred, and then decide for yourself. That is what I want with
you, my son, since you compel me to answer such a question."
This was said with so much quiet energy, such loftiness of look and
tone, that it could not fail to have its effect upon Waldemar. He felt
he had insulted his mother; but he felt also that the insult glanced
off from her, powerless to wound, and that appeal to his independence
had not fallen on deaf ears.
"I bear you no hatred, mother," said he. It was the first time he had
pronounced that name.
"But you have no confidence in me," she answered; "yet that is the
first thing I must ask of you. It will not be easy to you to put faith
in me, I know. From your earliest childhood the seeds of distrust have
been sown in your soul. Your guardian has done all in his power to
alienate you from me, and to bind you solely to himself. I only fear
that he, of all men, was least fitted to bring up the heir of Wilicza!"
Her eyes took a rapid survey of the young man as she spoke, and the
look completed her meaning; unfortunately Waldemar understood both look
and words, and was roused by them to a pitch of extreme irritation.
"I will not have a word said against my uncle," he exclaimed, in a
sudden outburst of anger. "He has been a second father to me; and if I
was only sent for here to listen to attacks against him, I had better
go back again at once. We shall never understand each other."
The Princess saw the mistake she had made in giving the reins to her
animosity against that detested guardian, but the thing was done. To
yield now was to compromise her whole authority. She felt that on no
account must she recede; yet everything depended on Waldemar's staying.
Suddenly help came to her from a quarter whence she least expected it.
At this critical moment a side door was opened, and Wanda, who had just
returned from a walk with her father, and had no idea that a visitor
had arrived in her absence, came into the room.
Waldemar, who had turned to leave it, stopped all at once, as though
rooted to the ground. A flame of fire seemed to shoot up into his face,
so rapid, so deep was the crimson that dyed it. The anger and defiance
which an instant before had shone in his eyes, vanished as by
enchantment; and, for a moment, he remained transfixed, with his eyes
riveted on the young Countess. The latter was about to retire, on
seeing a stranger in her aunt's company; but when the stranger turned
his face towards her, a half-uttered exclamation of surprise escaped
her also. She, however, preserved all her presence of mind; and, far
from being overtaken by any confusion, was apparently seized by a
violent temptation to laugh which it cost her much trouble to subdue.
It was too late to go back now, so she shut the door and went up to her
aunt.
"My son, Waldemar Nordeck; my niece, Countess Morynska," said the
Princess, looking first at Waldemar with considerable astonishment, and
then casting a questioning glance at the young girl.
Wanda had quickly overcome the childish impulse to merriment,
remembering that she was now a grown-up lady. Her graceful courtesy was
so correct that the severest mistress of deportment could have found no
fault with it; but there came a traitorous little twitch about the
youthful lips again as Waldemar returned her salutation by a movement
which he no doubt intended for a bow, but which certainly had a very
strange effect. Once again his mother scanned his face, as though she
would read his most secret thoughts. "It seems you know your cousin
already?" she said, with a peculiar emphasis. Her allusion to the
relationship between himself and the new-comer only increased the young
man's discomfiture.
"I don't know," he replied, in extreme embarrassment. "I did ...
certainly ... some days ago ..."
"Herr Nordeck was so good as to act as my guide when I lost my way in
the forest," interposed Wanda. "It was the day before yesterday, when
we made our excursion to the Beech Holm."
At the time the Princess had described this walk as a rebellious and
highly improper freak; but now she had not a word of blame for it. Her
tone was almost sweet as she replied--
"Indeed! a singular meeting. But why behave to each other as though you
were strangers? Between relations etiquette need not be so strictly
observed. You may certainly offer your cousin your hand, Wanda."
Wanda obeyed, holding out her hand in a frank, unembarrassed way.
Cousin Leo was already gallant enough to kiss it when she gave it him
in token of reconciliation after a quarrel; his elder brother,
unfortunately, appeared to possess none of this chivalry. He took the
delicate little fingers, shyly and hesitatingly at first, as though he
hardly dared to touch them, then all at once pressed them so tightly
between his own that the girl almost cried out with the pain. Of this
new cousin she knew as little as Leo, nay, still less; she had
therefore looked forward to his announced visit with proportionable
curiosity. Her disenchantment knew no bounds.
The Princess had stood by, a silent though keen observer. Her eye never
quitted Waldemar's face.
"So you met each other in the forest?" said she again. "Was no name
mentioned on either side to enlighten you?"
"Well, I unluckily took Herr Nordeck for a wood demon," burst out
Wanda, paying no heed to her aunt's grave, reproving glance, "and he
did his best to strengthen me in the belief. You can't imagine, aunt,
what an interesting interview we had. During the half hour we were
together, he never let me find out whether he really belonged to the
present race of men, or to the old fabulous ages. Under these
circumstances, a formal introduction was out of the question, of
course."
This little speech was made in a tone of impertinent, half-mocking
jest; but, strangely enough, Waldemar, who had recently shown himself
so irritable, did not appear in the least offended by it. His eyes were
still fixed on the young girl, and he hardly seemed to hear her
stinging little pleasantries.
The Princess, however, thought it time to put a stop to Wanda's
pertness. She turned to her son with calm as perfect as though the
previous scene between them had never taken place.
"You have not yet seen your brother, Waldemar, nor your uncle either; I
will take you to them. You will spend the day with us?" She spoke the
last words in an airy, assured tone, as though his staying were a thing
of course.
"If you wish it." This was said irresolutely, hesitatingly, but with
none of the fierce defiance of his former answers. Evidently Waldemar
no longer thought of going.
"Certainly I wish it. You would not leave us so abruptly on the
occasion of your first visit. Come, dear Wanda."
Young Nordeck wavered yet a moment; but as Wanda obeyed the summons,
his decision was taken. He laid the hat and riding-whip, to which he
had hitherto persistently clung, down on the chair he had a little
while before upset in his sudden blaze of anger, and meekly followed
the ladies as they led the way. A scarcely perceptible smile of triumph
played about the Princess's lips. She was too clever an observer not to
know that she had the game in her own hands. It is true that accident
had befriended her.