Some weeks had passed. The summer was drawing to an end, and all hands
at Altenhof were busy with the harvest. The Squire, who had spent his
whole morning in the fields, looking after the men and directing the
work, had come home weary and exhausted, and was settling himself down
for his well-earned after-dinner nap. Whilst making his preparations
for it, he looked round every now and then, half angrily, half
admiringly, at his adopted son, who was standing by the window dressed
in his usual riding gear, waiting for his horse to be brought round.
"So you are really going over to C---- in the heat of the day?" asked
Herr Witold. "I wish you joy of your two hours' ride. There is not a
bit of shade all the way. You will be getting a sunstroke--but you
don't seem able to live now without paying your respects to your mother
at least three or four times a week."
The young man frowned. "I can't refuse to go if my mother wishes to see
me. Now that we are so near each other she has a right to require that
I should pay her some visits."
"Well, she makes a famous use of the right," said Witold; "but I should
like to know how she has contrived to turn you into an obedient son. I
have tried in vain for nearly twenty years. She managed it in a single
day; she certainly always had the knack of governing people."
"You ought to know that I do not allow myself to be governed, uncle,"
replied Waldemar, in a tone of irritation. "My mother met me in a
conciliatory spirit, and I neither can nor will repulse her advances
roughly, as you did whilst I was under your guardianship."
"They tell you often enough that you are under it no longer, I'll be
bound," interrupted his uncle. "You have laid great stress on that for
the last few weeks; but it is quite unnecessary, my boy. You have, I am
sorry to say, never done anything but just what pleased you, and often
acted in opposition to my will. Your coming of age is a mere form, for
me, at least, though not for the Baratowskis. They best know what use
they mean to make of it, and why they are continually reminding you of
your freedom."
"What is the good of these perpetual suspicions?" cried Waldemar, in a
passion. "Am I to give up all intercourse with my relations for no
other reason but because you dislike them?"
"I wish you could put your dear relations' tenderness to the test,"
said Witold, ironically. "They would not trouble themselves so much
about you, if you did not happen to be master of Wilicza. Now, now,
don't fly out again. We have had quarrels enough about it of late, I am
not going to spoil my nap to-day. This confounded bathing season will
be over soon, and then we shall be quit of them all."
A short pause followed, Waldemar pacing impatiently up and down the
room.
"I can't think what they are about in the stables. I ordered Norman to
be saddled--the men seem to have gone to sleep over it."
"You are in a terrible hurry to get away, are not you?" asked the
Squire, drily. "I really believe they have given you some philtre over
in C----, which will not allow you to rest anywhere else. You can
hardly bear to wait until it is time for you to be in the saddle."
Waldemar made no reply. He began to whistle and to crack his whip in
the air.
"The Princess is going back to Paris, I presume?" asked Witold all at
once.
"I don't know. It is not decided yet where Leo is to finish his
studies. His mother will no doubt be guided by that in the choice of
her future home."
"I wish he would go and study in Constantinople, and that his lady
mother would be guided by that, and take herself off with him to the
land of the Turks; then, at all events, they could not be back for some
time," said Herr Witold, spitefully. "That young Baratowski must be a
perfect prodigy of learning. You are always talking of his studies."
"Leo has learned a great deal more than I, yet he is four years
younger," said Waldemar, in a grumbling voice.
"His mother has kept him to his books, no doubt. That boy has kept the
same tutor all the while, you may be sure; while six have decamped from
here, and the seventh only stays on with you because he can't very well
help himself."
"And why was not I kept to my books?" asked young Nordeck, suddenly,
crossing his arms defiantly and going up close to his guardian. The
latter stared at him in astonishment.
"I do believe the boy is going to reproach me with giving him his own
way in everything," he cried, in wrathful indignation.
"No," replied Waldemar, briefly. "You meant well, uncle; but you don't
know how I feel when I see that Leo is before me in everything, and
hear constantly of the necessity of further advantages for him, while I
stand by and ... But there shall be an end of it. I'll go to the
University, too."
Herr Witold, in his fright, nearly let fall the sofa cushion he was
comfortably adjusting.
"To the University?" he repeated.
"Yes, certainly. Dr. Fabian has been talking of it for months."
"And for months you have refused to go.
"That was before ... I have changed my mind now. Leo is to go to the
University next year, and if he is ready for it at eighteen, it must be
high time for me to be there. I am not going to be outdone always by my
younger brother. I shall talk to Dr. Fabian about it to-morrow. And now
I'll go round to the stables myself, and see whether Norman is saddled
at last. My patience is pretty well worn out."
With these words he took up his hat from the table, and hurried out of
the room, full of eagerness to be gone. Herr Witold sat still on the
sofa, holding the cushion. He did not think of laying it straight now.
It was all over with his noonday rest.
"What has come to the boy, Doctor? What have you been doing to the
boy?" he cried, angrily, as that inoffensive individual came into the
room.
"I?" asked the Doctor, in alarm. "Nothing! Why, he has but just left
you.
"Well, well, I don't mean you exactly," said the Squire, peevishly. "I
mean the Baratowski people. There has been no managing him since they
got him into their hands. Just fancy, he says now he wants to go to the
University."
"No? Really?" cried the Doctor, in delight.
This reply roused Herr Witold to still greater ire.
"Yes, it will be a matter of rejoicing to you," he grumbled. "You will
be enchanted to get away from here, and to leave me at Altenhof without
a soul to keep me company."
"You know that I have always advocated his going to the University. I
have unfortunately never found a hearing; and, if it really be the
Princess who has prevailed upon Waldemar to take this step, I can only
regard her influence as most beneficial."
"Deuce take her beneficial influence!" stormed the Squire, flinging the
unhappy sofa cushion into the middle of the room. "We shall soon see
what it all means. Something has happened to the boy. He wanders about
as if he were dreaming in broad daylight, takes no interest in
anything, and when one asks him a question he answers at cross
purposes. When he goes out shooting, he comes back with an empty
bag--he, who never used to miss a shot; and now he has all at once
taken to study, and there is no getting him from his books. I must find
out what has brought about this change in him, and you will have to
help me, Doctor. You must go over to C---- one of these days."
"No, for Heaven's sake, no!" protested Dr. Fabian. "What should I do
there?"
"See how the land lies," said the Squire, emphatically, "and bring me
back word. Something is going on there, of that I am certain. I can't
go over myself, for I am, so to speak, on a war-footing with the
Princess, and when we two come together there is sure to be a row. I
can't tolerate her spiteful ways, and she can't put up with my plain
speaking; but you, Doctor, stand as a neutral in the business. You are
the right man."
The Doctor with all his might resisted the requirement made of him.
"But I understand nothing of such matters," he complained. "You know,
too, how absent and ill at ease I am in my intercourse with strangers.
I should be especially so with the Princess. Besides, Waldemar would
never consent to my going with him."
"It is all of no use," interrupted Witold, dictatorially. "Go over
to C---- you must. You are the only creature in whom I have confidence,
Doctor. You won't desert me now?" With this he broke into such a flood
of argument, reproaches, and entreaties, that the poor Doctor, half
stunned by so much eloquence, surrendered at last, and promised all
that was asked of him.
The sound of hoofs was heard outside, and Waldemar, already mounted,
trotted past the window, then gave his horse the rein, and galloped
away without once looking back.
"Off he goes," said Witold, half grumbling, and yet brimming over anew
with admiration for his adopted son. "Just see how the boy sits his
horse. They might be cast in bronze! and it is no trifle to keep the
Norman well in hand."
"Waldemar has a singular mania for riding young horses which are only
half broken in," said the Doctor, anxiously. "I cannot understand why
he has selected Norman for his favourite. He is the most unmanageable,
the most restive, animal in the stables."
"That is the very reason," returned the Squire, laughing. "You know he
must have something to curb and master, or he finds no pleasure in the
game. But now, come here, Doctor; we must consider about this mission
of yours. You must set to work diplomatically, you know."
So saying, he grasped the Doctor's arm and dragged him off to the sofa.
Poor Fabian went docilely enough. He had resigned himself to his fate,
and only murmured occasionally, in doleful accents, "I a diplomatist,
Herr Witold? Mercy on me! la diplomatist!"
The Baratowski family had never taken much part in the gay doings of
the C---- season, and latterly they had withdrawn from them more and
more. Waldemar, who now paid them such frequent visits, always found
the family party alone. Count Morynski alone was wanting to it. He had
left a few days before the scene above described. It had been his
intention to take his daughter away with him; but the Princess
discovered that a longer stay at the seaside was essential to Wanda's
health, and prevailed on her brother to consent to a prolonged
separation. He yielded to his sister's wish, and set out on his
solitary way towards Rakowicz, where business matters required his
presence.
In spite of the noonday heat, young Nordeck had ridden over from
Altenhof at full speed. On his arrival he entered the Princess's room,
where he found her sitting at her writing-table. Had Leo come to her
thus, glowing and overheated, she would certainly have met him with
some word of remonstrance, of motherly solicitude; but Waldemar's
appearance, though possibly not unnoticed by her, excited no remark.
It was a singular fact that, although mother and son now saw each other
so frequently, no intimacy had taken root between them. The Princess
always treated Waldemar with the utmost consideration, and he strove to
tone down the harshness of his demeanour towards her; but in this
mutual endeavour to preserve a good understanding, there was not a
spark of warm, genuine feeling. They _could_ not cross the invisible
gulf which lay between them, though, for the time being, an extraneous
power had bridged it over. The greeting on either side was just as cool
as on the occasion of their first meeting; but Waldemar's eyes now
roved round the parlour with an uneasy, questioning glance.
"You are looking for Leo and Wanda?" said the Princess. "They have gone
down to the shore, and will wait for you there. You have planned a
boating excursion together, I think?"
"Yes. I will go and look for the others at once." Waldemar made a hasty
movement towards the door, but his mother laid her hand on his arm.
"I must claim your attention for a few minutes first. I have something
important to discuss with you."
"Won't it do later?" asked Waldemar, impatiently. "I should like
before ..."
"I particularly wish to speak to you alone," the Princess interrupted
him. "You will still be in time for the sail. You can all very well put
it off for a quarter of an hour."
Young Nordeck looked annoyed at being thus detained, and obeyed with
evident reluctance when invited to sit down. There seemed little
prospect of his attention being given to the matter in hand, for his
eyes wandered off continually to the window near him which opened on to
the shore.
"Our stay in C---- is drawing to an end," said the Princess; "we must
soon begin to think of our departure."
Waldemar gave a start almost of dismay.
"So soon? September promises to be fine, why not spend it here?"
"I cannot, on Wanda's account. I can hardly expect my brother to do
without his darling any longer. It was very unwillingly, and only by my
especial wish, that he consented to leave her behind. I promised him in
return that I would myself take her to Rakowicz."
"Rakowicz is not far from Wilicza, is it?" asked Waldemar, quickly.
"Only two or three miles; about half as far as Altenhof from this."
The young man was silent. He looked anxiously through the window again:
the shore seemed to have an unusual interest for him to-day.
"Speaking of Wilicza," said the Princess, negligently, "you will be
taking possession of your property soon, I suppose, now that you are of
age. When do you think of going there?"
"It was fixed for next spring," said Waldemar, absently, still absorbed
by his outdoor observations. "I wanted to stay on with my uncle through
the winter; but all that will be changed now, for I mean to go to the
University."
His mother bent her head approvingly.
"I can but applaud such a resolution. I have never disguised from you
that the essentially practical education you have received at your
guardian's has been, in my opinion, too one-sided. For such a position
as yours, some higher culture is indispensable."
"I should rather like to see Wilicza first, though." Waldemar made a
dash at his object. "I have not been there since my childhood, and ...
You will make a long stay at Rakowicz, will you not?"
"I do not know," replied the Princess. "For the present I shall
certainly accept the refuge offered by my brother to me and to my son.
Time will show whether we must make a permanent claim on his
generosity."
Young Nordeck looked up. "Refuge? Generosity? What do you mean,
mother?"
The Princess's lips twitched nervously, the only sign she gave that the
step she was about to take was one painful to her. With this exception
her face remained unmoved as she answered--
"Hitherto I have concealed the state of our circumstances from the
world, and I intend still to do so. To you, I neither can nor will make
a secret of our position. Yes, I am compelled to seek a refuge with my
brother. You know something of the events which happened during the
term of my second marriage. I stood at my husband's side when the storm
of revolution swept him down. I followed him into banishment, and for
ten long years I shared his exile. Our fortune was sacrificed to the
cause; for some time there has been a hopeless discrepancy between the
claims of our position and the means at our command. A cursory
inspection of our affairs, made since the Prince's death, has convinced
me that I must give up the struggle. We are at the end of our
resources."
Waldemar would have spoken. His mother raised her hand to silence him.
"You can understand what it costs me to make these disclosures to you,
and that I never should have entered on the subject if I myself had
been alone in question; but as a mother, I must look to my son's
interests. Every other consideration must give way to that. Leo stands
on the threshold of life, of his career. I do not fear for him the
privations of poverty, but its humiliations, for I know that he will
not be able to bear them. Fate has willed it that you should be rich;
henceforth, your wealth will be at your unlimited disposal. I confide
your brother's future to your generosity, and to your sense of honour."
Any other woman would have felt, and shown she felt, it keenly
mortifying thus to sue for help from the son of the man she had fled
from in scorn and hatred; but this woman so carried herself that the
painful step she had to take was in no degree lowering to her, and
wrought no prejudice to her dignity. Her bearing, as she stood before
her son, was not that of a supplicant. She made appeal neither to his
filial feeling, nor to an affection which, as she well knew, did not
exist. The mother with her rights stepped, for the time being, into the
background. She did not take her stand on them; but she demanded from
the elder brother's sense of justice that he should befriend the
younger--and it soon appeared that she had not erred in her judgment of
Waldemar. He sprang up quickly.
"And you only tell me this now, today? Why did I not hear of it
sooner?"
The Princess's eyes met his gravely and steadily.
"What answer would you have made me if, on our first meeting after our
long separation, I had made this communication to you?"
Waldemar looked down; he very well remembered the insulting manner in
which he had asked his mother what it was she wanted with him.
"You are mistaken in me," he replied, hastily. "I should never have
consented to your seeking help from any one but me. What! I am to be
master of Wilicza and allow my mother and brother to live in a state of
dependence! You are mistaken in me, mother; I have not deserved such
distrust!"
"I was not distrustful of you, my son, but only of that influence which
has guided you so far, and may perhaps be your guide even now. I do not
even know whether your friends will permit you to offer us an asylum."
Again she pricked him with a goad which never failed in its effect, and
which the mother was always ready to apply at the right moment. As
usual, it stung the young man's pride into arms.
"I think I have shown you that I can assert my own independence," he
replied, shortly. "Now tell me, what am I to do? I am ready for
anything."
The Princess felt she was about to hazard a bold stroke, but she went
on steadily, straight to her aim.
"We can only accept your help in one form, so that it shall not be made
a humiliation to us," said she. "You are master of Wilicza--would it
not seem natural that your mother and brother should be your guests in
your own house?"
Waldemar started. At the mention of Wilicza, the old suspicion and
distrust reared their heads anew. All the warnings he had heard from
his guardian against his mother's plans recurred to his memory. The
Princess saw this, and parried the danger with masterly skill.
"I only care for the place on account of its being near Rakowicz," she
said, indifferently. "From thence I could keep up a constant
intercourse with Wanda."
Near Rakowicz! constant intercourse with its inhabitants! That decided
the question. The young man's cheeks flushed crimson as he replied--
"Arrange it just as you like. I shall agree to everything. I am not
going to stay permanently at Wilicza just at present; but I will take
you there, at any rate--and there are long holidays at the University
every year."
The Princess held out her hand to him.
"I thank you, Waldemar, in my own name, and in Leo's."
Her thanks were sincerely meant, but there was no warmth or heartiness
in them, and Waldemar's reply was equally cool.
"Pray don't, mother; you make me feel ashamed. The thing is
settled--and now I can go to the shore at last, I suppose."
He seemed most desirous of escaping, and his mother detained him no
longer. She knew too well to whom she owed her victory. Standing at the
window, she watched the young man as he strode hastily along the garden
walk towards the shore; then, turning to her desk again, she sat down
to finish a letter she had been writing to her brother.
The letter was just completed, and the Princess was in the act of
sealing it, when Leo made his appearance. He looked almost as heated as
his brother had been previously; but, in his case, it was evidently
some inner disturbance which sent the blood to his temples. With a
frowning brow and lips tightly set, he drew near his mother, who looked
up in surprise.
"What is the matter, Leo? Why do you come alone? Did Waldemar not find
you and Wanda?"
"Oh, to be sure. He came to us a quarter of an hour ago," said Leo, in
an agitated tone.
"And where is he now?"
"He has gone out for a sail with Wanda."
"Alone?"
"Yes, all alone."
"You know very well I do not approve of such doings," said the
Princess, much annoyed. "If, now and then, I trust Wanda to you, that
is quite a different thing. You have been brought up together, and are
therefore entitled to treat each other as brother and sister. Waldemar
stands in quite a different relation to her, and moreover--I do not
choose that they should thus be left alone together. The boating
excursion was planned by you all in common. Why did you not remain with
the others?"
"Because I will not always stay where I am not wanted!" exclaimed Leo.
"Because it is no pleasure to me to see Waldemar following Wanda about
with his eyes, and behaving as if she were the only creature in
existence."
The Princess pressed the seal on her letter.
"I have told you before what I think of these foolish fits of jealousy,
Leo. Are you beginning with them again already?"
"Mamma!" The young Prince came up to the writing table with flashing
eyes. "Do you not see, or _will_ you not see, that Waldemar is in love
with your niece--that he worships her?"
"Well, and what do you do?" asked his mother, leaning back in her chair
composedly. "Precisely the same, or at least you fancy so. You cannot
expect me to take this boyish enthusiasm into serious account? You and
Waldemar are just at the age to need an ideal, and Wanda is the only
young girl with whom you have been thrown in contact so far.
Fortunately, she is still child enough to look on it all as a sort of
game, and it is for that reason alone I allow it to go on. If she were
to begin to take a more serious view of the matter, I should be obliged
to interfere and restrict your intercourse to narrower limits. But, if
I know anything of Wanda, the case will not arise. She plays with you
both, and laughs at you both. So indulge yet awhile in your romance,
young people! It will do your brother no harm to practise a little
gallantry. He needs it much, I am sorry to say!"
The smile which accompanied these words was truly insulting to a
youthful passion--it said so plainly, 'mere child's play.' Leo
restrained his indignation with much difficulty.
"I wish you would talk to Waldemar in that tone of his 'boyish
enthusiasm,'" he replied, with suppressed vehemence. "He would not take
it so quietly."
"I should not disguise from him, any more than from you, that I look
upon the matter as a piece of youthful folly. If, five or six years
hence, you speak to me of your love to Wanda, or if Waldemar tells me
of his, I shall attach some importance to your feelings. For the
present, you can safely play the part of your cousin's faithful
knights--always on condition that no disputes arise between you on the
subject."
"They have arisen already," declared Leo. "I have just had some very
sharp words with Waldemar. That was why I gave up the sail. I won't
bear it. He claims Wanda's company and conversation altogether for
himself, and I won't stand his imperious, dictatorial ways any longer
either. I shall take every opportunity now of letting him see it."
"You will not do that," interrupted his mother. "I am more desirous now
than ever that there should be a good understanding between you, for we
are going with Waldemar to Wilicza."
"To Wilicza!" cried Leo, in a fury; "and I am to be his guest there--to
be under him, perhaps! No, that I will never consent to; I will owe
Waldemar nothing. If it costs me my whole future, I'll accept nothing
from him!"
The Princess preserved her superior calm, but her brow grew dark as she
answered--
"If you are willing to set your whole future at stake for a mere whim,
I am still here to watch over your interests. Besides, it is not merely
a question of you or of me. There are other and higher considerations
which make a sojourn at Wilicza desirable for me, and I have no
intention of allowing my plans to be disturbed by your childish
jealousy. You know I should never ask of you anything that could
compromise your dignity; and you know, too, that I am accustomed to see
my will obeyed. I tell you, we are going to Wilicza, and you will treat
your brother with the regard and courtesy I show him myself. I require
obedience from you, Leo."
The young Prince knew that tone full well. He knew that when his mother
assumed it she meant to have her way at any cost; but on this occasion
a mighty spur urged him to resistance. If he ventured no reply in
words, his face betrayed that he was inclined to rebel in deeds, and
that he would hardly condescend so far as to show his brother the
required courtesy.
"I will take care that no provocation to these disputes shall arise in
future," went on the Princess. "We shall leave this in a week, and when
Wanda goes back to her father you will necessarily see less of her. As
to this sail, _tete-a-tete_ with Waldemar, of which I altogether
disapprove, it shall most decidedly be the last."
So saying, she rang, and, on Pawlick's appearing, gave him the letter
to take to the post. It conveyed news to Count Morynski of their
intended departure from C----, and informed him that his sister would
not at present make a claim on his hospitality, but that the former
mistress of Wilicza was about to return to, and take up her residence
in, her old home.