CHAPTER IX.

The dwellers at Altenhof had passed a week of great suspense and

anxiety. When Herr Witold returned home on the evening of the accident,

he found the whole house in commotion. Dr. Fabian lay bleeding and

still unconscious in his room; and Waldemar, with a face which

terrified his guardian even more than the sight of the sufferer, was

endeavouring to stanch the wound. Nothing could be extracted from him,

save that he had been the cause of the misfortune which had occurred;

so the Squire was obliged, in a great measure, to rely on the reports

of the servants. From them he learned that the young master had

returned at dusk, bearing in his arms the injured man, whom he must

have carried from a distance, and that he had immediately sent off

messengers to the nearest doctors. A quarter of an hour later, the

horse had come in in his turn, exhausted, and bearing all the traces of

fast and furious riding. The animal, on being abandoned by its master,

had taken the familiar road home--that was all the servants knew. The

wound on the Doctor's head, evidently caused by a blow from the hoof,

seemed of a serious nature; and the great loss of blood and weakly

constitution of the patient aroused for some time fears of the worst.

Herr Witold, thoroughly sound and healthy himself, and accustomed to a

like vigour in Waldemar, had no experience of sickness or suspense, and

swore often enough that for all the gold in the world he would not live

through that week again. To-day, for the first time, the Squire's face

wore its accustomed cheery look, as he sat by the bed in the patient's

room.

"So we have tided over the worst," said he. "And now, Doctor, you will

do me the favour to have a little rational talk with Waldemar." He

pointed to his adopted son, who stood by the window, leaning his head

against the panes, and looking out absently into the court. "I can do

nothing with him, but you can obtain what you like from him now; so try

and bring him to reason, or I shall have the boy ruined for life

through this unhappy business."

Doctor Fabian, who wore a broad white bandage across his brow, still

looked very weak and wasted; but he was sitting up, supported by

pillows, and his voice, though faint, was quite clear as he asked--

"What do you wish Waldemar to do?"

"I wish him to be reasonable," returned Witold, emphatically; "to be

reasonable, and to thank God that things have gone so well with us;

instead of which he goes about tormenting himself, as if he really had

a murder on his conscience. I was anxious enough myself for the first

two or three days, when your life hung on a thread; but now that the

doctor has declared you to be out of danger, one may breathe freely

again. There is no good in overdoing a thing, and I can't bear any

longer to see the boy wandering about with such a face, and hardly

saying a word for hours together."

"But I have told Waldemar over and over again that I alone am to blame

for the accident," said the Doctor. "His attention was quite taken up

with his horse; he could not see I was standing so near. I was

imprudent enough to seize the animal's veins, and it pulled me to the

ground."

"You caught hold of Norman's reins?" asked the Squire, petrified with

amazement. "You, who will go ten paces out of any horse's way, and have

never ventured to approach the wild beast? How did you come to do

that?"

Fabian glanced across at his pupil. "I was afraid of an accident," he

answered, gently.

"Which would unquestionably have happened," went on Witold. "Waldemar

could not have all his five senses about him that evening, to want to

leap the ditch just at that spot, at dusk too, and with a horse dead

beat! I have always told him that temper of his would get him into

trouble some day. Now he has had a lesson--but he takes it rather too

much to heart. So, Doctor, you just read him a sermon--you are allowed

to talk now, you know--and persuade him to be reasonable. He will do

what you tell him now, I am certain."

Saying which, the Squire rose and left the room.

The two who remained behind were silent awhile. At last the Doctor

began--

"Did you hear what I have been charged with, Waldemar?"

The young man, who up to this time had stood by the window, silent and

abstracted, as though the conversation in no way concerned him, turned

round at once, and went up to the bed. At first sight, Witold's anxiety

might have appeared exaggerated. Such a nature as Waldemar's does not

succumb so easily to moral influences. He only looked somewhat paler

than of yore; but any one who observed him closely would have discerned

the change.

There was a strange, new expression in his face, well calculated to

excite uneasiness--a peculiar rigidity of feature, as though all

emotion had died out within him. This, however, might only be the

vizier behind which some deeply wounded feeling hid itself from the

outer world. His voice, too, had lost its full strong ring; it sounded

weary and spiritless as he replied--

"Don't listen to my uncle. There is nothing the matter with me."

Dr. Fabian took his pupil's hand between his own, the young man

submitting unresistingly.

"I have not ventured to touch on the subject yet," went on the Doctor,

timidly. "I see it still gives you pain. Shall I be silent?"

Waldemar drew a deep, long breath.

"No," said he, after a minute. "I ought to thank you for withholding

the truth from my uncle. He would have tortured me with questions which

I should not have answered; but my madness on that evening nearly cost

you your life. I cannot--I do not wish to deny to you what you, indeed,

must know already."

"I know nothing," replied the Doctor, with a troubled look. "I can only

form a guess from the scene I witnessed. Waldemar, tell me, for

Heaven's sake, what had taken place?"

"Oh, it was nothing--a mere childish joke," said Waldemar, bitterly. "A

piece of folly, which was not worthy to be taken seriously--so my

mother wrote the day before yesterday. Unfortunately, I have taken it

seriously--so seriously that it has wrecked part of my life for me,

perhaps the best part."

"You love Countess Morynska?" asked the Doctor, in a low tone.

"I _did_ love her; it is over. I know now that she was miserably

trifling with me. I have done with her and her love."

Dr. Fabian shook his head, as he scanned the young man's face with deep

anxiety. "Done with her? no, not for some time to come! I can see but

too plainly what you are suffering at this moment."

Waldemar passed his hand across his brow. "That will pass. I have borne

it, and I shall conquer it; for conquer it I will, at any cost. Only

one thing I beg of you. Say no word of it to my uncle, nor--nor to me.

I shall battle down the weakness, I know; but I cannot speak of it, not

even to you. Let me settle the matter by myself--it will be all the

sooner buried."

His trembling lips betrayed how sensitive was the wound to the

slightest touch. The Doctor saw he must desist.

"I will be silent, since you wish it. You shall in future hear no word

of it from me."

"In future!" repeated Waldemar. "Why, are you thinking of staying on

with me? I took it for granted that you would leave us when you got

well. I can hardly expect you to put up with a pupil who rides you down

in return for all your care and trouble."

The Doctor took the young man's hands again soothingly between his own.

"As though I did not know that you have suffered far more than I! One

good result my illness has had. It has convinced me on a point--forgive

me--on which I was not fully convinced before. I know now that you have

a heart to feel for others."

Waldemar seemed hardly to hear the last words. His eyes had a gloomy,

absent look; but suddenly he roused himself, and said, "My uncle is

right in one thing. How did you come to take hold of Norman's reins,

you of all people?"

Fabian smiled. "You mean because my cowardice is notorious? It was

anxiety on your account which made me courageous for once. I had, it is

true, often seen you commit similar mad acts of rashness, and never

ventured to interfere; but then I always knew that you were a match for

the danger which you set yourself to overcome. On that evening you were

not bent on overcoming a danger; you were bent on bringing about that

fall, Waldemar. I saw you wished for it, saw it would be death to you,

if I did not hold you back by force, and I forgot even my fear, and

seized the bridle."

Waldemar looked at the speaker with wide, astonished eyes. "So it was

not mere imprudence, not by any unlucky accident that you were thrown

to the ground. You knew to what you were exposing yourself. Do you care

at all about my life, then? I thought nobody cared for it."

"Nobody? and your guardian?"

"Uncle Witold? Yes, he perhaps; but no one else."

"I think I have shown you that somebody else cares," said the Doctor,

with gentle reproach.

The young man bent over him.

"I know that I have deserved it least of all from you; but, believe me,

Doctor, I have had a hard lesson, so hard a one that I shall never

forget it as long as I live. From the hour I carried you home bleeding,

from the two first days when the surgeon gave you up for lost, I have

been learning what a murderer must feel. If you really are willing to

stay on with me, you may risk it now. Here, by your bed of pain, I have

for ever forsworn those violent fits of passion which blind me to

everything that comes in my way. You shall not have to complain of me

any more."

The words were spoken with a touch of the old energy; but Dr. Fabian

still gazed anxiously into his pupil's countenance, as the latter bent

over him. "I wish you could tell me that with a different face," he

replied. "Of course I shall stay with you; but I would rather have your

old impetuosity than this dull unnatural calm. There is a look in your

eye which does not please me."

Waldemar raised himself quickly, withdrawing from the too keen

observation. "Don't let us be for ever talking of me," he said. "The

doctor says you may have some fresh air now. Shall I open the window?"

The sick man sighed. He saw there was nothing to be done here;

moreover, the conversation was now interrupted by the entrance of Herr

Witold.

"Here I am again," said he, coming in. "Waldemar, you will have to go

down. Young Prince Baratowski is there."

"Leo?" asked Waldemar, in evident astonishment.

"Yes, he wants to speak to you. My presence will be superfluous, I am

very sure, so I'll stay and keep the Doctor company."

The young man left the room, and Witold sat down in his former place by

the bedside.

"The Baratowskis are exceedingly anxious to get hold of him again,"

said he, alluding to his adopted son. "Three days ago a letter came

from her Highness, our lady mamma. Waldemar has not answered it, to my

knowledge; in fact, nothing would induce him to leave you, so now the

brother is sent over in person. And I must say this, the young Polish

shoot is of a very trim growth--a perfect picture of a boy! only,

unfortunately, as like his mother as two peas, which goes strongly

against him in my eyes. And now it just occurs to me, I have never

asked you what discoveries you made at C----. In my worry about you, I

had quite forgotten the whole affair."

Dr. Fabian cast down his eyes, and plucked nervously at the

counterpane. "I am sorry I cannot give you any information, Herr

Witold," he replied. "My visit to C---- was too short, too hurried, and

I told you before that I had neither skill nor luck for a diplomatist."

"Ah, you are thinking of the crack in your skull," said the Squire;

"but that had nothing to do with the business. However, I won't bother

you with such commissions in future. So you could not find out

anything? More's the pity! And how goes it with Waldemar? Did you read

him a good lecture?"

"He has promised that he will endeavour to put all that has passed away

from his mind."

"Thank God! I tell you, you can do anything with him now; and what is

more, Doctor, we have both of us been unjust to the boy in thinking he

had no feeling. I never should have imagined he would take the thing so

much to heart."

On entering the study or 'den' before described, Waldemar found his

brother waiting for him. The young Prince, on arriving, had been

struck by the appearance of the old-fashioned, somewhat low-roofed

dwelling-house, and was now examining with wondering eyes the modest

arrangements of the room into which he had been shown. Accustomed from

his earliest childhood to a well-appointed, elegant house, he could not

understand how his brother, wealthy as he knew him to be, could

possibly endure to live on here. The _salon_ of the hired house at

C----, which to him and to the Princess appeared miserably shabby, was

splendid in comparison to this reception-room at Altenhof.

All these reflections vanished, however, on Waldemar's entrance. Leo

went up to him, and said hastily, as though to get over a disagreeable

but unavoidable task as speedily as possible, "You are surprised to see

me here; but you have not been near us for a whole week, and you have

not answered mamma's letter, so there was nothing left us but to come

and look after you."

It was easy to see that, in paying this visit, the young man was not

acting spontaneously. His speech and manner were decidedly constrained.

He seemed on the point of holding out his hand to his brother, but

evidently could not quite prevail on himself to offer such a mark of

amity. The little movement was not followed up.

Waldemar either did not, or would not, notice it. "You come by your

mother's, desire?" he asked.

Leo reddened. He best knew what a struggle it had cost the Princess to

extort compliance; how she had needed to employ the whole weight of her

authority before he would consent to take this journey to Altenhof.

"Yes," he replied, somewhat tardily.

"I am sorry you should have had to take a step which must appear a

humiliating one to you, Leo. I should certainly have spared it you, if

I had known anything of the matter."

Leo looked up in surprise. The tone was as new to him as the

consideration for his feelings, coming from this quarter.

"Mamma declared you had been insulted in our house," he began

again--"insulted by me, and that, therefore, I must make the first

advances towards a reconciliation. I feel myself now that she is right.

You will believe me, Waldemar"--here his voice grew agitated--"you will

believe me, that without such a feeling on my part I never should have

come, never!"

"I believe you," was the short, but decided answer.

"Well, then, don't make it so hard for me to beg your pardon!" cried

Leo, really stretching out his hand now. His brother declined it.

"I cannot accept your excuses. Neither you nor my mother are to blame

for the insult I received in your house; moreover, it is already past

and forgotten. Let us say no more about it."

Leo's astonishment grew with every minute. He could make nothing of

this quiet coolness which he had been so far from expecting. Had he not

himself witnessed Waldemar's terrible agitation, and that scarcely a

week ago?

"I did not think you could forget so quickly!" he replied, with

unfeigned wonder.

"When my contempt is aroused, certainly!"

"Waldemar, that is too severe," Leo broke out. "You do Wanda a wrong.

She herself charged me to say to you ..."

"Had you not better spare me Countess Morynska's message?" said his

brother, interrupting him. "My view of the case is, I should imagine,

the one in question now, and it differs altogether from yours--but let

us drop the subject. My mother will not, of course, expect me to bid

her good-bye in person. She will understand that, for the present, I

shall avoid her house, and that I shall not come to Wilicza this

autumn, as we had agreed. Perhaps I may see you there next year."

The young Prince drew back with a dark frown on his brow. "You do not

suppose that, after this quarrel, after the cold repulse I have met

with here, we can still be your guests?" he asked, angrily.

Waldemar crossed his arms, and leaned on the bureau. "You mistake.

There has been no quarrel between us. My mother, in her letter to me,

condemned the late incident in very decided terms. You showed a

disapproval even more marked by interfering the other day; and if I

desired any formal satisfaction, you offer it me now by coming here.

What has the whole business to do with your staying at my place? But

you always opposed the plan, I know. For what reason?"

"Because it is humiliating to me--and what was painful to me before,

has now become impossible. Mamma may determine on what she likes, but I

will not set my foot ..."

Waldemar laid his hand kindly on the boy's arm. "Do not say it out,

Leo. Later on you may feel yourself bound by a word spoken in haste.

You are in no way concerned in the matter. I offered my mother a home

at Wilicza, and she accepted it. Under existing circumstances, it was

no more than my duty. I could not consent to her staying with strangers

for any length of time--so the plan still holds good. Besides, you will

be going to the University, and at most will only run over to Wilicza

in the holidays to see my mother. If she thinks the arrangement

compatible with her pride, you may very well put up with it."

"But I know that our whole living depends on it!" cried Leo,

impulsively. "I have insulted you--I feel it now--and you cannot

require me to accept anything at your hands!"

"You have offered me no offence," said Waldemar, gravely. "On the

contrary, you are the only one who has been true to me; and if your

words stung me at first, I thank you for them now. You should only have

spoken sooner; but I could hardly expect you to play the part of

informer. I understand that nothing but the passion of the moment would

have forced the disclosure from you. Your intervention rent away a net

in which I lay captive, and you do not suppose I am so weak a creature

as to complain of that. Between us two all enmity is at an end."

Resentment and a feeling of shame were struggling together in Leo's

mind. He knew right well that he had been prompted by jealousy alone,

and felt his share in the fault the more keenly, the more he was

absolved from blame. He had counted on a violent scene with his

brother, of whose passionate temper he had had sufficient proofs; but

now he stood before him utterly disconcerted. The young Prince was not

yet experienced enough in the reading of men's hearts to see, or even

to dream of, all that lay behind Waldemar's incomprehensible calm,

or to guess by what an effort it was assumed. He accepted it as

genuine. One thing he clearly felt, and that was his brother's evident

desire that neither he nor the Princess should suffer by what had

occurred--that it should still be possible for them to accept a home

from him. Perhaps under similar circumstances Leo would not have been

capable of a like generosity; but for this very reason he felt it to

its fullest extent.

"Waldemar, I am sorry for what has happened," he said, frankly holding

out his hand. There was nothing constrained about his manner this

time--the impulse came straight from his heart--and this time his

brother grasped the offered hand unhesitatingly.

"Promise me to go with our mother to Wilicza. I ask it of you," he went

on, more gravely, as Leo was about to resist. "If you really think you

have given me ground for offence, I ask this favour of you as the price

of our reconciliation."

Leo drooped his head. He gave up all resistance now. "So you will not

say good-bye to my mother yourself?" he asked, after a pause. "That

will grieve her."

A very bitter smile played about Waldemar's lips as he replied, "She

will be able to bear it. Good-bye, Leo. I am glad at least to have seen

you again."

The young Prince looked for one instant into his brother's face, then,

with a sudden rush of feeling, he threw his arms round his neck.

Waldemar submitted to the embrace in silence; but he did not respond to

it, though it was the first demonstration of the kind between the two.

"Good-bye," said Leo, somewhat chilled, and letting his arms fall to

his sides again.

A few minutes later the carriage which had brought young Baratowski

rolled out of the courtyard again, and Waldemar returned to the room

they had just left. Any one seeing him now--seeing how his lips

twitched convulsively, how his features were drawn in a tension

of pain, how fixed and full of misery was his look--would have

discerned the real state of the case, have understood why the cold,

self-possessed tone he had maintained throughout the interview had been

adopted. His pride, which had received so mortal a wound, had roused

itself to action once more. Leo must not see that he was suffering,

must on no account take back that report to C----. But now such

self-control was no longer needed; now the wounds bled afresh. Strong

and violent, as was his whole character, had been Waldemar's love, the

first tender emotion that had sprung up in the heart of the desolate,

uncultured youth. He had loved Wanda with all the glow of passion, but

also with the reverent worship of a first pure affection; and if the

discovery that he had been trifled with and scoffed at did not

altogether ruin him, that hour in which his boyish ideal was shattered

and destroyed took from him much that makes life desirable--took from

him his youth and his trust in his fellow-men.

PART THE SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

Castle Wilicza, which gave its name to all the lands appertaining to

it, formed, as has already been mentioned, the central point of a great

agglomeration of estates situated near the frontier. Rarely indeed does

so extensive a property come into the hands of one man; still more

rarely does it happen that the owner shows so little interest in his

possessions as was here the case. Judicious, systematic management had

ever been wanting to the Wilicza domain. The late master, Nordeck, had

been a speculator, and had acquired his fortune by a speculator's

talents; he could play the part of a great landed proprietor neither as

regards a practical nor a social point of view, and was not long in

discovering that he was well-nigh at the mercy of his agents. He at

once rid himself of all care for the separate outlying estates by

letting them off, and they were still held by the various tenants who

had leased them. Wilicza itself, his own residence, was excepted from

the rule, and given over to the administration of a steward.

The chief wealth of the property consisted, however, in the extensive

forests, which covered nearly two-thirds of the domain, and required

for their inspection a perfect army of foresters and rangers. They

formed a distinct branch of the administration, and were the principal

source of those vast revenues which yearly flowed into the proprietor's

coffers.

At Nordeck's death, the guardian of the infant heir, stepping into his

friend's shoes, suffered all existing arrangements to remain

undisturbed, partly out of a pious regard to the dead man's wishes,

partly because such a course seemed to him advisable in the interest

of the property. Herr Witold managed the Altenhof estate extremely

well--it was on a scale small enough for him to take the entire

direction of it into his own hands; but to the grander ratio of Wilicza

affairs the Squire showed himself altogether unequal--he had neither

measure nor grasp for them. He thought he had done his duty to the

uttermost when he had gone as carefully as possible through the

accounts and vouchers submitted to him, which he was necessarily

obliged to take on trust--when he had conscientiously invested the

incoming funds with a due regard to his ward's interests; and, for the

rest, he relied on the agents, who were allowed to act in everything

according to their own good will and pleasure. This sort of management

would have ruined most landowners, but it could not make any very

formidable breach in the Nordeck fortune; for, if hundreds were lost

here and there, thousands and tens of thousands remained behind, and

the enormous revenues of the domain, of which at present the young heir

could only enjoy a very limited fraction, not only covered every chance

deficit, but went continually to swell the capital. That the estates

produced less than by skilful hands they might have been made to

produce, was incontestable; but the guardian cared little for that, and

young Nordeck even less.

The young man had gone to the University shortly after his coming of

age, and from thence he had set out on his travels. For years he had

not shown himself at Wilicza; he seemed to have no love for the place.

The Castle itself presented a striking contrast to most of the

noblemen's seats around, which, with few exceptions, hardly deserved

the name of castles, and whereof the decay and ruin were often not to

be hidden by a certain outward splendour maintained by their owners at

any cost. The exterior of Wilicza was such as became the old

seigneurial residence of many a prince and count during two centuries.

It dated from the country's brightest period, when the might of the

nobility still went hand in hand with its wealth, when its chateaux

were the scene of a luxury and magnificence hardly known in these our

days. The castle could not exactly be described as beautiful, and would

hardly have found grace in the eyes of an artist. The taste which gave

it being was undeniably of a rude order; but it was imposing by its

massive structure and by the grandeur of its design. In spite of all

the changes it had undergone in the course of years, it still retained

its old original character; and the great edifice, with its long rows

of windows, its broad expanse of lawn, and vast, finely wooded park,

stood out, somewhat sombre perhaps, but grand and majestic, from the

circle of magnificent forests which surrounded it.

After the death of the late owner, the castle had stood for many years

empty and deserted. At very rare intervals the young heir came in

company of his guardian, but he never stayed more than a few weeks at a

time. The desolate solitude of the place vanished, however, when its

former mistress, the present widowed Princess Baratowska, returned to

take up her abode at Wilicza. The apartments, which had been so long

shut up, were thrown open once more, and the costly decorations and

furniture with which Nordeck had fitted up the different suites of

rooms on the occasion of his marriage, were renewed and restored to all

their pristine splendour. The present proprietor had assigned to his

mother's use the income arising from the Castle lands--a sum

inconsiderable to him, yet sufficient to secure to the Princess and her

younger son means 'suitable to their position,' however broad an

interpretation she might choose to put on the words. She made full use

of the funds at her disposal, and her surroundings and manner of life

were ordered on the same scale as in past times, when the young

Countess Morynska came to rule as mistress in Wilicza, and her husband

still loved to parade his wealth before her and her relations.

It was the beginning of October. The autumnal wind was sharp already as

it swept over the forests, where the foliage was gradually changing its

tints, and the sun often fought its way with difficulty through the

thick mists which enveloped the landscape. To-day again the veil had

only lifted towards noon, but now the sun shone brightly into the

_salon_ which communicated with the Princess's study, and in which she

usually sat. It was a large apartment, lofty and somewhat gloomy, like

all the rooms in the Castle, with deep window-niches and a spacious

chimney-place, where, as a protection against the chills of autumn, a

fire was sparkling. The heavy dark-green curtains were thrown far back,

and the full daylight streaming in displayed the solid handsome

furniture, in all which the same dark-green hue predominated.

The only occupants of the room at the present moment were Count

Morynski and the Princess. The Count often came over with his daughter

from Rakowicz, and would spend days, even weeks, with his sister. On

this occasion he had arrived on a long visit. The years which had

passed over his head had left visible traces--his hair had grown

greyer, and there were more lines imprinted on his forehead--but the

expression of that grave, characteristic face remained unaltered. In

the Princess, on the other hand, there was hardly any change. The

features of this still beautiful woman were as cold and proud, her

bearing as haughty, as in the old days. Although at the expiration of

the year she had laid aside her deep widow's mourning, she yet

constantly dressed in black; and her dark, though exceedingly rich,

attire set off her tall figure to full advantage. She was now engaged

in an animated conversation with her brother.

"I do not understand why the news should surprise you," said she. "We

must both of us have been prepared for it for some time. To me, at

least, it has always been a matter for wonder that Waldemar should

remain so long and so persistently absent from his estates."

"That is just what causes my surprise," said the Count. "He has avoided

Wilicza hitherto in the most evident manner. Why should he come now so

suddenly, without any previous intimation of his plan? What can he want

here?"

"What should he want but to hunt and shoot?" replied the Princess. "You

know he has inherited from his father a passion for sport. I am

convinced that he only chose the University of J---- because it lies in

a well-wooded country; and that, instead of attending the lectures, he

roamed about all day with his gun and bag. It will have been the same,

no doubt, on his travels. It is certain that he thinks of, and cares

for, nothing but sport."

"He could not come at a worse time," said Morynski. "Just now

everything depends upon your remaining complete mistress here. Rakowicz

lies too far from the frontier. We are watched on all sides, hemmed in

by all manner of difficulties. It is absolutely necessary we should

keep Wilicza in our hands."

"I know it," said the Princess, "and I will take care so to keep it.

You are right, the visit comes at a most inopportune moment; but I

cannot prevent my son from visiting his own estates when he thinks

proper. We must be very prudent."

The Count waved his hand impatiently.

"Prudence alone will not suffice. We ought simply to give up the whole

business while Waldemar stays at the Castle, and that is impossible."

"It is not necessary either, for he will be little enough at the

Castle, or I am mistaken in the charm which our forests must exercise

over such a son of Nimrod. With Nordeck this passion for sport became

at last a perfect mania, and Waldemar is exactly like his father in

this respect. We shall not see much of him; he will be out all day in

the forests, and will, assuredly, pay no attention to what is going on

at Wilicza. The only thing here which can have any interest for him is

the great collection of guns in the armoury, and that we will willingly

leave to him."

There was a sort of half-contemptuous raillery in her words; but the

Count's voice was grave and a little doubtful as he answered--

"Four years have gone by since you saw Waldemar. You could do what you

liked with him then, it is true, though at first I greatly doubted your

power over him. It is to be hoped you will succeed as well now."

"I think it likely," returned the Princess, with calm assurance.

"Besides, he is really not so difficult to manage as you imagine. His

stubborn self-will furnishes the very best hold over him. You have only

to give way to his rough violence in the first moment, and maintain him

in the implicit belief that his will is to be respected, come what may,

and you have him altogether in your hands. If we tell him every day

that he is sole and unrestricted master of Wilicza, it will not occur

to him to wish to be so in reality. I do not credit him with sufficient

intelligence for any very deep interest in the state of affairs on his

estates. We may make our minds easy."

"I must depend altogether on your judgment in the matter," said

Morynski. "I myself have only seen him twice. When did you receive the

letter?"

"This morning, about an hour before you arrived. According to it, we

may expect Waldemar any day; he was already on his road hither. He

writes in his usual laconic way, giving no details. You know that our

correspondence has never been remarkable for prolixity. We have never

communicated to each other more details than were necessary."

The Count looked down thoughtfully. "Does he come alone?"

"With his former tutor, who is his constant companion. I thought at

first the man might prove useful, that we might gain from him some

fuller accounts of Waldemar's doings and manner of life at the

University, but I was mistaken. Of course, my son's studies served

me as a pretext for seeking information from him, and I received in

reply nothing but learned dissertations on the subject of those

studies, not a word of what I wanted to know. My questions did not

appear to be understood, so at last I broke off the fruitless

correspondence--otherwise, this Dr. Fabian is one of the most harmless

creatures in the world. We have nothing to apprehend from his presence,

and certainly nothing from his influence, for he possesses none."

"It is Waldemar who principally concerns us," said the Count. "If you

think there will be no inconvenient watchfulness in that quarter ..."

"At all events, there will be none keener than that which we have had

to endure day by day for months together," interrupted his sister. "I

should think the steward must have taught us caution by this time."

"Yes, that Frank and his household are acting as so many spies upon

us," exclaimed Morynski, hotly. "I wonder, Hedwiga, you have never been

able to rid us of that troublesome personage."

The Princess smiled in her superior wisdom.

"Compose yourself, Bronislaus. The steward will very shortly give in

his resignation. I could not proceed against him earlier. He has been

twenty years at his post, and has always acquitted himself of his

duties in an irreproachable manner. I had no grounds for requiring his

dismissal. I preferred to manage so that he should give notice himself,

which he did yesterday--only by word of mouth, so far, and to me; but

the formal announcement of it will follow ere long. I attach much

importance to its coming from _him_, particularly now that a visit from

Waldemar is impending."

The Count's features, which during the whole interview had evinced

unmistakable anxiety, gradually relaxed into calm.

"It was high time," said he, with evident satisfaction; "that Frank was

growing to be a real danger. Unfortunately, we must still put up with

him for a time. His contract stipulates for a notice of several

months."

"It does; but the clause will not be insisted on. The steward has long

been independent of his situation; it is even said he means to buy a

place of his own. Besides this, he is a man of high spirit; one scene

that hurt his pride, and he would go at once. I give you my word for

it! That will not be difficult to obtain, now that he has once decided

upon going. What, Leo, back from your walk already?"

The last words were addressed to the young Prince, who at that moment

entered the room and came up to them.

"Wanda would not stay in the park any longer," he answered. "I was

coming ... But perhaps I am interrupting a consultation?"

Count Morynski rose. "We have finished. I have just heard of your

brother's expected arrival, and we were discussing the consequences,

one of which will be that our present visit must be shortened. We shall

remain to-morrow for the _fete_, but return next day to Rakowicz before

Waldemar makes his appearance. He ought not, on coming home, to find us

here as guests of his house."

"Why not?" asked the Princess, coolly. "On account of that old childish

folly, do you mean? Pooh! who gives it a thought now? Certainly not

Wanda! And Waldemar--well, in four years he has had time to get over

the imagined insult! That his heart was not deeply involved in the

matter we know through Leo, to whom but a week afterwards he declared

that he had forgotten the whole affair. Our sojourn at Wilicza, too, is

proof enough that he no longer attaches any importance to it. I

consider it will be most judicious and show the best tact for us to

ignore the matter altogether. If Wanda meets him without any

embarrassment, in a cousinly way, he will hardly remember that he once

cherished a romantic feeling for her."

"Perhaps it would be wisest," said the Count, as he turned to go. "At

all events, I will talk it over with Wanda."

Leo, contrary to his habit, had taken no part in the conversation; and

now that his uncle had left the room, he sat down in his place without

speaking. He had looked agitated on his entrance, and there were still

signs in his face of a perturbation he strove in vain to hide. His

mother, at least, had remarked it at once.

"Your intended walk was soon over," she said, nonchalantly. "Where is

Wanda?"

"In her room--or so I suppose."

"You suppose only? There has been a quarrel between you again, I

conclude. Do not attempt to deny it, Leo. Your face tells the tale

plainly enough; and, moreover, I know you never leave Wanda's side

unless she drives you away from her."

"Yes, she often seems to find a peculiar pleasure in driving me from

her," said Leo, with unfeigned bitterness.

"And you often torment her by your unfounded jealousy of every one who

approaches her. I am convinced that has been the cause of your

disagreement today."

The young Prince was silent, thereby confirming his mother's

supposition. She went on a little satirically, "It is the old story: a

love uncrossed makes sorrows for itself. You have the rare good fortune

to be able to follow the impulse of your hearts without impediment,

with the full approval of your parents, and now you make your lives

uncomfortable in this manner. I will not attempt to exonerate Wanda

from her share of the blame. I am not blind to her advantages, which

grow more and more striking now that she has laid aside her childish

ways; but what I feared from the first day I gave her back to her

father has unfortunately come to pass. With his unbounded tenderness,

his adoration, he has prepared a hard task for you and me. Wanda knows

no will but her own. She is accustomed to have her way in everything;

and you, I regret to say, do not teach her that others can be firm as

well as she."

"I assure you, mother, I was not very yielding to Wanda to-day,"

replied Leo, in a voice still vibrating with anger.

The Princess shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps not to-day; but to-morrow

you will be on your knees before her, begging her pardon. She has

invariably brought you to it. How often must I explain to you that that

is not the way to inspire a proud and wilful girl with the respect to

which the future husband should lay claim!"

"But I am not capable of such cool calculation," cried Leo,

passionately. "When I love, when I worship a woman with all my soul, I

cannot for ever be thinking whether my conduct towards her is such as

befits the future husband."

"Do not complain then if your passion is not returned in the measure

you desire," said the Princess, coldly. "If I know anything of Wanda,

she will never love the man who bows to her authority, but rather him

who resists it. A nature such as hers should be forced into surrender,

and that you have never understood."

He turned away, muttering in his ill humour--

"After all, I have no right to Wanda's love. I have never been

permitted to make our engagement known. Our marriage is put off to some

distant, indefinite time ..."

"Because it is not now the moment to be thinking of betrothals and

weddings," interrupted his mother, with much decision and energy.

"Because there are other and graver tasks before you than that of

adoring a young wife who would banish everything else from your mind!

'Some distant, indefinite time!' when it is only a question of a year's

delay! First win your bride; the opportunity will not long be wanting,

and Wanda herself would never consent to marry you until you have

earned her favour. But this brings us to another subject, which I am

forced to touch upon. Leo, your uncle is not pleased with you."

"Has he been accusing me to you?" asked the young man, looking up with

a frown.

"He has, unfortunately, been forced to speak to me. Must I remind you

that to your superior in age, your relative and leader, you owe

unreserved obedience? Instead of obeying, however, you place new and

unnecessary difficulties in his path--put yourself at the head of a

band of young men, your own contemporaries, and offer him open

opposition. What does this mean?"

A look of stubborn defiance came into Leo's face, as he answered, "We

are no children to be led without a will of our own. If we are younger,

we have still a right to our opinion; and we are resolved not to bear

this eternal hesitation, these doubts and fears which hold us back."

"Do you suppose that my brother will allow himself to be drawn by young

Hotspurs such as you into a course he knows to be ruinous?" asked the

Princess, sharply. "You are much mistaken. It was hard work for him

before to keep all the clashing elements in check, and now he has the

vexation of seeing his own nephew set the example of disobedience."

"I only contested his decision, nothing more," said the young Prince,

defending himself. "I love and honour Morynski as your brother, still

more as Wanda's father; but it wounds me that he will not admit my

right to independence. You yourself repeat to me continually that my

name and descent entitle me to the first place, and my uncle requires

me to be satisfied with a subordinate one."

"Because he dares not confide the direction of all-important matters to

a hot head of one and twenty. You misjudge your uncle altogether. He

has been denied an heir, and, idolise Wanda as he may, those hopes

which only a son can realise are concentrated on you--you who are so

closely connected with him by ties of blood, and who will shortly be to

him indeed a son. If, for the present, he thinks it necessary to

restrain your ardour, for the future he counts upon your fresh young

strength, when his own shall begin to fail. I have his word that, when

the decisive moment arrives, Prince Leo Baratowski shall assume the

position which is his due. We both hope you will show yourself worthy

of it."

"Do you doubt it?" cried Leo, springing up with flashing eyes.

His mother laid her hand soothingly on his arm. "Most assuredly we do

not doubt your courage. What you lack is reflection, and I fear you

will never learn it, for you have your father's temperament. Baratowski

would blaze out as you do, without considering obstacles, or staying to

inquire whether things were possible, and often enough has his

impetuosity brought trouble both on himself and me. But you are my son

as well, Leo, and I fancy you must have inherited something from your

mother also. I have answered for you to my brother. It will be for you

to redeem my surety."

Earnest as were her words, they breathed of such fond, motherly pride

that Leo threw his arms round her in a burst of loving emotion. The

Princess smiled. She was but rarely accessible to soft touches of

feeling; but at this moment all a mother's tenderness was in her look

and in her tone, as, returning her son's embrace, she said, "What _my_

hopes for your future are, my Leo, I need not now repeat to you; I have

told you again and again. You have ever been to me my all, my only

one."

"Your only one?" the young Prince reminded her a little reproachfully.

"You forget my brother?"

"Waldemar?" The Princess drew herself up. At mention of this name all

softness vanished from her features, all tenderness from her voice. Her

countenance was grave and severe as before, and her tone icy cold as

she went on, "Yes, truly, I had forgotten Waldemar. Fate has decreed

that he should be master of Wilicza. We shall have to endure him."

CHAPTER II.

At no great distance from the Castle stood the dwelling of Herr Frank,

the land-steward. The administration of the Wilicza estates had ever

been carried on distinct from the Castle, which, whether it were

inhabited or not, stood apart in stately seclusion, while the

management of the property was left exclusively in the hands of the

agent. The latter's handsome house, with its surrounding buildings and

offices, almost all newly erected, excited much admiration; and the

order reigning throughout the farm, so different from what was to be

seen on the neighbouring estates, was marvelled at, though not

imitated, by the whole country-side. The position of the Wilicza

steward was, indeed, one which many a landed proprietor might have

envied, both as regarded income and his manner of life.

It was growing dusk. Over at the Castle the long rows of windows on the

first story were being gradually illuminated; there was a grand

reception at the Princess's. In the agent's parlour no light had

as yet been kindled, and the two gentlemen sitting there were so

absorbed by their conversation that they did not appear to notice the

ever-increasing darkness.

The elder of these was a fine man of noble presence, still in the prime

of life, and with a frank and exceedingly sunburnt face. The younger,

on the other hand, bore in his whole appearance evident marks of town

breeding. In spite of his rather diminutive stature, he might be

considered a good-looking man. His carefully curled hair, and the

fashionable cut of his clothes, gave him somewhat of the air of a

dandy; but there was no affectation of this in his manner. On the

contrary, his speech and bearing were weighted with an excess of

dignity and importance which occasionally came into rather comic

contrast with his small person. "The thing is settled, I shall go!" the

elder man was saying. "I made known to the Princess the day before

yesterday that I intended doing her the pleasure of turning my back on

Wilicza, since to that her man[oe]uvres have long been tending. I got

no further in my disclosures, for she interrupted me in her majestic

way, 'My good Frank, I sincerely regret that you are wishing to leave

us; but I will place no obstacles in your path. Be persuaded that your

long and active service at Wilicza will be forgotten neither by my son

nor myself.' She said that to me--to me, whom she has systematically

hunted out! Do you think I could make head against that look and tone?

I had intended to relieve my mind at length by telling her the whole

truth, as a parting compliment; but at this--I made my bow and went."

The younger man shook his head. "A remarkable woman, but a most

dangerous one! We Government men have proofs of it. I tell you, Herr

Frank, that Princess Baratowska is a source of danger to the whole

province."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said the agent, irritably; "but she is a source

of danger to Wilicza. She has contrived now to get the whole property

under her dominion. I was the last stumbling-block in her way; and, at

last, she is ridding herself of me. You may believe me, Herr Assessor,

when I say I have held out as long as I possibly could; not for the

sake of the post--thank God, I am sufficiently before the world to

stand on my own feet any day--but I don't like to think of all I have

worked for and accomplished these last twenty years going to the dogs

now because the old Polish management is to the fore again. When I came

to the place, Herr Nordeck had been dead a few years, his son was

living with his guardian at Altenhof, and farmers, foresters, and

agents were working the concern merrily as best suited themselves. Here

at Wilicza things were worst of all. My predecessor had robbed so

openly and audaciously that it grew too strong even for Herr Witold,

who, one fine day, dismissed him summarily. The Castle, the

magnificence of which was talked of far and wide, stood shut up and

deserted. Of the state of things in the village and on the farms about,

I can give you no idea. Miserable wood and clay huts tumbling down over

one's head, dirt and disorder whichever way one turned; the lower

orders cringing, false, and full of pious national hatred to the

'German'; the fields in a condition to make a good farmer's heart sick

within him. There was need, truly, of a pair of strong fists to the

rescue. It was a good six months before I could send for my wife and

children, because, outside the Castle, there was not what to our

notions would seem a single habitable house to be found anywhere about.

How could it be otherwise? The deceased Nordeck had never done anything

but hunt and shoot, and quarrel with his wife, and Herr Witold did

nothing at all. There were a few rows regularly each time he came; but,

in general, he let himself be led by the nose, and that was pretty well

known throughout the place. If the accounts were down on paper in black

and white, and the figures added up right, then all was as it should

be; whether the expenditure were real or fictitious, he never troubled

himself to inquire. What sums I had to ask for at first to bring the

concern into anything like order! They were granted me without delay or

difficulty; and the fact that I really employed them on the estate,

instead of putting them into my own pockets like my worthy colleagues,

was a mere hazard. Mine was an exceptional case. But the old gentleman

had some glimmering of the fact that I was the only honest man of the

whole set, for at the end of the first year he raised my salary and

commission, so that I, with my honesty, fared just as well as the

others with their thieving; and if he had lived, I should never have

left Wilicza, in spite of the Princess's intrigues. She was too wise to

attack me in those days. She knew I had only to write to Altenhof and

put Heir Witold up to what was going on, and there would have been an

explosion. He had still influence enough over his adopted son to

procure me liberty of action. During his lifetime I was left in peace;

but when he died, all that was over. What good does it do me that my

contract guarantees me a free and independent position? When these

continual encroachments proceed from the Castle itself and are

authorised by the owner's mother, there is nothing for me but either to

bear them, or to go. I have borne them long enough, and now I shall

go."

"But it is a real misfortune for Wilicza!" struck in the Assessor. "You

were the only one who ventured in some degree to resist the Princess,

whose sharp eyes inspired a wholesome fear. If you go, they will have

full scope for all their secret machinations. We Government men"--he

each time laid great stress on these words--"best know what will be the

consequences if the Nordeck estates, with all their vast extent and

confounded proximity to the frontier, come under the rule of a

Baratowska."

"Yes, she has made good progress in the space of four years," said the

steward, bitterly. "She set to work on the very first day, and has

continued slowly, but surely, advancing always towards her aim with an

energy one cannot but admire. When some time ago the farm leases

expired, she contrived that they should all be taken up by men of her

own nationality. They applied for and acquired them. Herr Nordeck

probably never knew that there were any other applicants. From the

administration of the woods and forests every German element has been

gradually expelled. The whole staff is now composed of obedient

partisans of the Princess. How often I have had to interfere in the

most energetic manner, in my endeavour to keep my German inspectors and

overseers in their situations! It grew to be of no use at last. They

went of their own free will, tired out by the refractoriness of the

people; and we are pretty well aware who urged and incited the

underlings on to resist. I think I know my successor in office. He is a

drunken lout who understands as good as nothing of agricultural

economy, and who will altogether ruin Wilicza, just as the tenants and

foresters are busy ruining the other estates and the woodlands; but he

is a National of the purest water, and that is enough for the Princess.

He is sure of the post."

"If Herr Nordeck would only make up his mind to come!" said the

Assessor. "He has no suspicion, I dare say, of what is going on here on

his property."

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "The young master? As if he ever troubled

his head about Wilicza! He has never set foot in it for the last ten

years; he likes roaming about the world better. I hoped that, on

reaching his majority, he would come here for some length of time, and

there was some talk of it at first; but he stayed away, and sent us

instead his lady mother, who lost no time in assuming the reins of

government. None of the officials are in direct communication with him.

We send in all our accounts, make our payments, and address all our

statements and demands to the magistrate at L----. Besides, before I

decided to go, I tried my last resource, and wrote to Herr Nordeck

myself. I knew that my position was untenable; but I thought it my

duty, after twenty years' service, to make him acquainted with the

doings here, and to tell him frankly that, if matters went on so, not

even his fortune would be able to stand it. I sent the letter off a

month ago, and--would you believe it?--I have never had an answer. No,

from that quarter there is nothing to hope.--But with all this worry, I

am forgetting that we are sitting in the dark. I can't think why

Gretchen does not bring in the lamp as usual. She probably does not

know you are here."

"Yes, she does," said the Assessor, in a tone of pique. "Fraeulein

Margaret was in the hall when I drove up; but she did not give me time

to speak to her. She ran upstairs as fast as she could, right up to the

garret."

Frank looked a little embarrassed.

"No, no, you must have been mistaken."

"Right up to the garret," repeated the little gentleman, emphatically,

raising his eyebrows and looking fixedly at the steward, as though

calling on him to join in his indignation; but Frank only laughed.

"I am sorry for it; but with the best will in the world, I can't help

you."

"You can help me very much," cried the Assessor, warmly. "A father's

authority is unbounded, and if you were to say to your daughter that it

was your will and desire ..."

"That I will never do," interrupted Frank, with quiet decision. "You

know that I place no obstacle in the way of your suit. I believe you

have a sincere affection for my daughter, and I have no objection to

make to you either personally or as regards your circumstances; but to

obtain the girl's consent is your business. I shall not meddle with

that. If she, of her own accord, thinks fit to say yes, you'll be

welcome to me as a son-in-law; but I must say there seems to me little

chance of it."

"You are wrong, Herr Frank," said the Assessor, confidently. "You are

most decidedly wrong. True, Fraeulein Margaret sometimes treats me

rather strangely--inconsiderately, I may say; but that is nothing but

the usual bashfulness of young girls. They like to be sought and won,

like to hold back, so as to make the prize of greater value. I

understand them perfectly. Make your mind easy. I shall certainly

succeed."

"I shall be glad of it," replied the agent, breaking off shortly as the

object of their conversation came into the room, carrying the lamp in

her hand.

Gretchen Frank might be about twenty. She was no delicate, ideal

beauty, but a true living picture of youth and health. There was

something of her father's stately vigour about her; and, as the bright

rays from the lamp fell on her fresh rosy face, with its clear blue

eyes and fair crown of plaits, she looked so charming that it was easy

to understand how the Assessor at once forgot that flight to the

garret, and sprang to his feet in a violent hurry in order to greet the

maiden.

"Good evening, Herr Assessor," said she, returning his greeting

somewhat coolly. "So it was you who drove into the courtyard just now.

I certainly did not expect that, as you were here only last Sunday."

The Assessor thought proper not to notice the last words. "Official

business brings me here this time," he replied; "an affair of great

importance which has been entrusted to me, and will detain me in this

neighbourhood for some days. I have taken the liberty of making a claim

on your father's hospitality. We Government men are having a bad time

of it just now, Fraeulein Margaret. There is a sort of dull ferment

abroad everywhere, secret machinations, revolutionary tendencies! The

whole province is one nest of conspirators."

"You hardly need tell us that," said the agent, drily. "I think we are

at the fountain head for such news here at Wilicza."

"Yes, this Wilicza is the real centre of all their plots and

intrigues," cried the Assessor, warmly. "They dare not play their game

so openly at Rakowicz. It is too near L----, and is enclosed on all

sides by German settlements. That somewhat shackles the noble Count

Morynski; here, on the other hand, he has free elbow-room."

"And the most favourable ground to work on," added Frank; "the Nordeck

domain extending to the very frontier, and all the foresters, rangers,

and inspectors at the beck and call of the Princess! You would say such

a sharp look-out is kept that not a cat could get across without its

being known; and yet every night of our lives there is passing to and

fro, and all who come from out yonder find open doors at Wilicza,

though, to be sure, for the present they are only the back doors."

"We know it all, Herr Frank," asserted the Assessor, with a look

which betokened omniscience, to say the least. "All, I tell you; but we

can do nothing, for proofs are wanting. We can discover absolutely

nothing. At the approach of one of our people the whole busy hive

vanishes--sinks, so to speak, into the earth. My present mission is

connected with these doings; and as you have the superintendence of the

police here, I shall in some measure have to rely on you for help."

"If I must, I must; but you know how unwillingly I lend my hand to such

services--though over at the Castle they insist upon it that I am a spy

and a detective, because I will not deliberately close my eyes, and

when the people turn refractory I proceed against them with all

severity."

"But you must. There are two dangerous persons wandering about this

neighbourhood under all manner of pretexts, who must be placed in safe

custody if possible. I am on their traces already. On my road hither I

met two most suspicious-looking individuals. They were on foot."

Gretchen laughed out. "Is that a reason for suspecting them? Perhaps

they had no money to pay the post."

"I beg your pardon, Fraeulein. They had even money enough for a private

post-chaise, for they had passed me in one previously; but at the last

station they left the carriage, and made all sorts of the most minute

inquiries about Wilicza. They declined the proffered guide, and

continued their journey on foot, avoiding the main road, and striking

off straight across the fields. They could give no account of

themselves to the post-master. I, unfortunately, did not reach the

station until after they had left it, and as dusk was coming on apace,

all further investigations were at an end for to-day; but to-morrow I

intend to set about them in earnest. The two men must still be lurking

somewhere in the neighbourhood."

"Perhaps over there, even," said Gretchen, pointing in the direction of

the Castle, with its long rows of illuminated windows shining across

through the darkness. "There is a great meeting of conspirators this

evening at the Princess's."

The Assessor started up. "Meeting of conspirators? How? Do you know it

for a certainty? I will surprise them, I will ..."

The steward pushed him laughingly down into his seat again. "Don't let

yourself be taken in. It is only an absurd notion of the girl's own,

nothing more."

"But, papa, you yourself said not long ago that there are good and

special reasons for all the gaieties which are going on at the Castle,"

interposed Gretchen.

"I certainly am of that opinion. Much as the Princess may love show and

splendour, I am convinced that at a time like the present she can have

no real heart for such festive doings. These great hunting parties and

balls are the simplest, the most convenient pretext for calling all

Wilicza together without exciting surprise or remark. They dine and

dance, no doubt. Appearances have to be kept up--but most of the guests

remain all night at the Castle, and that which goes on when the great

chandeliers are put out is perhaps of not quite so innocent a nature."

The Assessor listened breathlessly to a discussion which for him was

fraught with the profoundest interest. Unfortunately it was interrupted

at this point, the steward's attention being called off. News was

brought him that his own very valuable riding horse had been seized by

an attack of illness which seemed likely to take a serious turn. Frank

went himself to look after the animal, leaving the two young people

alone.

Fraeulein Margaret was evidently put out by this unexpected

_tete-a-tete_ with the Assessor, to whom, on the other hand, it

appeared highly acceptable. He twisted his moustaches, passed his white

hands through his carefully curled hair, and resolved upon making the

most of so favourable an opportunity.

"Herr Frank has been telling me that he intends to give up his post

here," he began. "The thought that he and his were about leaving

Wilicza would, under other circumstances, have been a heavy blow to

me--would have come upon me, so to speak, like a thunderclap; but as I

myself am not likely to remain very long in L---- ..."

"Are you going away?" asked the girl, in surprise.

The Assessor smiled self-consciously. "You know, Fraeulein Margaret,

that to us officials promotion generally means a change of place, and I

hope soon to advance in my career."

"Really?"

"Undoubtedly. I am already Government Assessor, and in a state like

ours that is saying sufficient. It is in some sort the first rung of

the great official ladder which leads straight up to the Minister's

seat."

"Well, you have got a long way to go," said Gretchen, rather

distrustfully.

The little gentleman leaned back with an air of dignity, as though the

cane chair on which he was seated were already the before-named stool

of office.

"Such an eminence is not, it is true, attained in a day; but for the

future ... one should always keep great things in view, Fraeulein,

always propose to one's self the highest aims. Ambition is the

placeman's spur. As for myself, I daily expect to be raised to the rank

of Counsellor."[2]

"But you have been expecting that a long time," said the young girl.

"Because envy and malevolence are constantly blocking the path," cried

the Assessor, with a burst of wounded feeling. "We younger officials

are kept down by our superiors as long as we possibly can be. Hitherto

I have had no opportunity of distinguishing myself, but at last they

have seen the necessity of confiding to me a mission of importance. His

Excellency the President himself gave the necessary instructions, and

charged me to make a personal report to him of the result of my

researches. If things go well, I am sure of the Counsellorship."

He looked so significantly at the young lady, as he uttered these last

words, that she could entertain no doubt as to who would be the future

Counsellor's bride-elect. Notwithstanding this, she preserved an

obstinate silence.

"In that case a change of place would necessarily follow," continued

the Assessor. "I should in all probability remove to the capital. I

have influential connections there. You do not know the capital,

Fraeulein ..." And thereupon he began to describe the city life and

amusements, to vaunt the influential relatives, skilfully contriving to

group all these advantages around himself as central figure. Gretchen

listened, half curious, half thoughtful. The brilliant pictures now

unrolled before her were seductive to the eyes of a young country-bred

maiden. She leaned her blonde head on her hand, and gazed meditatively

at the table-cover. Evidently, to her thinking, the drawback lay in

that unavoidable corollary of the present Assessor and future

Counsellor. The latter saw his advantage right well, however, and made

no delay in following it up. He prepared to open a full battery on the

besieged fort.

"But, in spite of all this, I shall feel lonely and desolate there," he

said, pathetically, "for I shall leave my heart behind, Fraeulein

Margaret."

Gretchen grew frightened. She saw that the Assessor, who after

pronouncing her name had made a long dramatic pause, was now rising

from his chair with the unmistakable intention of falling on his knees

before her. The solemnity and ceremony with which he went through these

preliminaries to a love scene were, however, destined to prove fatal to

him. They gave the girl time for reflection. She sprang up in her turn.

"Excuse me one minute. I think--I think the house door has fallen to.

Papa won't be able to get in when he comes back. I must go and open

it!" and she rushed out of the room.

The Assessor stood with his dramatic pause, and knees half bent to do

her homage, the picture of consternation. It was the second time to-day

his chosen one had fled from him, and such bashfulness began to be

inconvenient. But it never occurred to him to think of a serious

resistance. She was acting from caprice, coquetry, perhaps even--the

suitor smiled--fear of his irresistible ascendancy. Evidently she dared

not say him nay, so took flight in charming confusion, postponing the

decisive moment. There was something exceedingly consoling to the

Assessor in this thought, and though he regretted having once more

failed to attain his object, he never doubted of his final victory. He

so thoroughly understood what he was about!

The pretext used by the young girl was not altogether a vain one. The

hall door, pushed by some careless hand, had really closed with a bang.

It is true that, at his return, the steward would only have had to call

from outside to one of the maids to have it opened; but his daughter

did not seem to think of this. She rushed through the adjoining room

out into the hall.

An exclamation of pain and one of alarm resounded in the same instant.

As Gretchen violently thrust open the door, a stranger, who at that

very moment had grasped the handle from outside, struck by the sudden

rebound, staggered back several paces and would have fallen, if some

one who was with him had not caught and supported him.

"Good gracious, what is it?" cried the girl.

"I beg your pardon a thousand times," said a timid voice in a tone of

great courtesy.

Gretchen looked up in surprise at the man who excused himself so

politely for having nearly been knocked down, while yet in the act of

raising himself to an upright posture. Before she had time for an

answer, the other stranger drew near and addressed himself to her.

"We wish to see Herr Frank. He is at home, we hear."

"Papa is not here just at this moment, but he will be back directly,"

replied Gretchen, to whom this late and unexpected visit came as a

great relief, offering her the means of escape from her difficulty.

Without it, she must either have committed the rudeness of leaving the

Assessor alone during her father's absence, or have been compelled to

stay with him to keep him company. Instead, therefore, of showing the

new-comers into the agent's study, as was customary, she led them

straightway into the sitting-room.

"Two gentlemen who wish to speak to papa," said she, by way of

explanation, to the astonished Assessor, who looked up and rose as the

strangers entered and bowed to him, while the girl, kindly offering to

let her father know, went out again for that purpose.

She had just sent off one of the maids, and was about to return to the

room, when, to her amazement, the Assessor appeared in the dimly

lighted hall, and inquired hastily whether Herr Frank had been sent

for. Gretchen answered in the affirmative.

The Assessor came up to her, and said in a whisper--

"Fraeulein Margaret, those are the men."

"What men?" asked she, in surprise.

"The two suspicious characters. I have them. They are in the trap."

"But they are not Poles, not a bit of it," objected the girl.

"They are the two individuals who passed me in the post-chaise," he

replied, obstinately. "The same who, later on, behaved in a way

calculated to arouse suspicion. At all events, I shall take my

measures. I shall interrogate, and if necessary arrest them."

"But need it all be done in our house?" asked Gretchen, in a very

ungracious tone.

"The duty of my office requires it!" said the Assessor, with dignity.

"First of all, the entrance must be secured, to prevent any possible

attempt at flight. I shall lock the hall door." So saying, he turned

the key in the lock and drew it out.

"What are you thinking of?" protested Gretchen. "Papa won't be able to

get in when he comes back."

"We shall post the maid at the door, and give her the key," whispered

the little gentleman, who by this time was in a fever of official zeal.

"She will open when Herr Frank comes, and at the same time call in the

men to guard the door. Who knows whether the delinquents will surrender

easily?"

"But how do you know they are delinquents at all? Suppose you were to

make a mistake?"

"Fraeulein Margaret, you have not the eye of a detective," declared the

Assessor, with conscious superiority. "I am a good physiognomist, and I

tell you I never yet saw two faces on which 'conspirator' was stamped

more legibly, more unmistakably. I am not to be deceived, however pure

their German may be. For the present, I will merely subject them to an

interrogation, until Herr Frank arrives. It is dangerous, no doubt, to

let such men get an inkling that they are found out--extremely

dangerous, particularly when one is alone with them; but duty demands

it!"

"I will go with you," said Gretchen, valiantly.

"Thank you," said the Assessor, as solemnly as though the girl had

resolved on going to the scaffold with him. "Thank you. Now let us

act."

He called the maid, gave her the required instructions, and then

returned to the parlour, Gretchen following him. She was naturally

courageous, and felt quite as much curiosity as uneasiness about the

issue. The two strangers had evidently not the smallest notion of the

storm about to burst over their heads. They imagined themselves in

perfect security. The younger of the two, who was a remarkably tall

man, towering more than a head above his companion, was pacing the room

with folded arms, while the elder, a person of slight build, with pale

but agreeable features, had obediently taken the place offered him, and

was sitting harmlessly enough in the armchair.

The Assessor assumed an air of authority. Convinced of the importance

of the moment, and conscious that the eyes of his beloved were upon

him, he rose to the measure of his task. He looked the judicial mind

personified, as he stepped up to the two 'individuals.'

"I have not yet introduced myself to you, gentlemen," he began,

courteous as yet. "Government Assessor Hubert, of L----."

The persons addressed could have been no novices in the art of

conspiracy, for they did not even change colour at the mention of his

official quality. The elder man rose, bowed in silence, but with much

politeness, and then sat down again. The younger merely inclined his

head slightly, and said in a careless tone, "Very happy, I'm sure.

"Might I in my turn inquire the names of these gentlemen?" continued

Hubert.

"What makes you ask?" said the younger stranger, indifferently.

"I wish to know them."

"I am sorry for that. We don't wish to tell."

The Assessor nodded as much as to say: "So I thought." "I am connected

with the police department of L----," he said, significantly.

"Very agreeable position," said the stranger, his eyes just glancing at

the official with an indifference positively offensive, and then

wandering off and fixing themselves on the young girl, who had

retreated to the window.

For a moment Hubert was disconcerted. They must indeed be case-hardened

conspirators! Even the mention of the L---- police could extract from

them no sign of alarm, though by this time some inkling of their fate

must have dawned upon them. But there were means of overcoming their

obduracy. The interrogation proceeded.

"About two hours ago you passed me in a post-chaise?"

This time the younger man made no answer. He seemed to have had enough

of the conversation; but the elder replied civilly, "Certainly, we

noticed you in your carriage."

"At the last station you left the post-chaise and continued your

journey on foot. You were, according to your own statement, bound for

Wilicza--you avoided the high-road, and took a side-path across the

fields." The Assessor was sternly judicial now again, as he hurled out

these accusations one after the other, in a manner which ought to have

been crushing, and which did indeed produce some effect. The elder of

the two conspirators showed signs of uneasiness, and the younger, on

whom the lynx eye of the official had at once fixed as the more

dangerous of the pair, went up quickly to his companion, and laid his

hand protectingly as it were on the back of his chair.

"We put on our coats, too, when it began to get cool, and left a pair

of gloves at the post-house by mistake," said the latter, with

unconcealed irony. "Perhaps you would like to add these two facts to

your interesting notes on our conduct and deportment."

"Sir, that is not a tone in which to address a representative of the

Government," exclaimed Hubert, angrily.

The stranger shrugged his shoulders and turned to the window.

"You leave us quite to ourselves, Fraeulein. Will you not come out and

deliver us by your presence from this gentleman's unrefreshing

discourse?"

The Assessor was seized with a just wrath; such boldness was more than

he could bear. The steward might come in at any moment now, he knew, so

he threw to the winds his previous caution, and replied in a lofty

tone--

"I fear there is much before you that you will find unrefreshing. In

the first place you will give me your names, deliver up your papers. I

require it, I insist upon it. In a word, you are suspicious

characters."

That blow told. The pale gentleman started up with every appearance of

trepidation. "Good Heavens, what do you say!"

"Ah, so the consciousness of guilt makes itself felt at last, does it?"

said Hubert, triumphantly. "You winced yourself," he asserted, turning

to the other, and looking up at him with an authoritative air. "Do not

attempt to deny it. I saw your face twitch."

The young man's face had twitched, no doubt, in the most singular

manner at mention of the words "suspicious characters;" and now, as he

bent down to his companion, the corners of his mouth worked quite

perceptibly.

"Why do you not clear up the matter?" asked his friend, in a low

beseeching tone.

"Because it amuses me," was the reply, returned in a voice as low.

"No whispering here," interrupted the Assessor. "No fresh conspiring in

my very presence--that I forbid. Once again, your name! Will you give

me an answer?"

"Yes, we will," said the younger stranger, drawing himself up. "So you

look upon us as conspirators?"

"And traitors to the State," added Hubert, emphatically.

"And traitors to the State. Of course--that is the usual complement."

The Assessor stood petrified at such audacity.

"I call upon you for the last time to give me your names and deliver up

your papers," he cried. "You refuse to do either?"

The stranger sat down unconcernedly on the arm of the chair, and

crossed his arms.

"Quite correct. The whole conspiracy lies in a nutshell."

"Sir, I believe that you are inclined to jest with me," shouted the

Assessor, scarlet with rage. "Are you aware that that will tell very

much against your case? The police department of L---- ..."

"Must be in a bad way if it has you for a representative," observed the

young man, with imperturbable calm.

This was too much. The insulted official sprang up like one possessed.

"Unheard-of insolence! What, have things gone so far that the

authorities are now to be openly scoffed at and treated with contempt?

But you shall pay dearly for it! You have insulted and attacked the

Government in my person. I arrest you. I will have you handcuffed and

conveyed to L----."

He rushed at his adversary, who quietly let him come on, and then with

a single movement of his powerful arm sent him back, bounding like a

ball on to the sofa near at hand, which happily received him.

"Violence!" he screamed, "violence! an attack upon my person. Fraeulein

Margaret, fetch your father."

"Fetch a glass of water, Fraeulein, and dash it over the gentleman's

head," said the stranger. "He needs it."

The girl had no time to obey either of these very different

injunctions, for hasty steps were heard in the adjoining room, and the

steward, who had seen with extreme surprise the precautionary measures

adopted in his hall, and had heard the loud voices, came quickly in.

The Assessor still lay on the sofa, wriggling and kicking in his

struggle to get on his legs again, which, in consequence of the

shortness of those members and the height whereon he was perched, was a

feat difficult to accomplish.

"Herr Frank," he cried, "guard the entrance, call in the men. You have

the direction of the Wilicza police--you must support me. I arrest

these two persons in the name of ..."

Here his voice deserted him; he fought desperately in the air, and at

last, by a violent jerk, managed to get himself into a sitting posture.

The younger stranger had risen and gone up to the steward. "Herr Frank,

you hold the direction of the Wilicza police as proxy for me, and you

will, I trust, reflect before delivering up your own principal."

"Who?" cried the steward, starting back.

The stranger drew a paper from his breast-pocket and held it out to

him. "I come quite unexpectedly, and after ten years you can hardly be

expected to recognise me, so this letter may serve for my credentials.

You addressed it to me a few weeks since."

Frank cast a rapid glance at the page, and another as rapid at the

features of the man before him. "Herr Nordeck?"

That gentleman assented. "Waldemar Nordeck, who in the very hour of his

return to his own estates has come near being arrested as a suspicious

vagrant. A most agreeable welcome, certainly."

He looked across at the sofa. There sat the Assessor, stiff and

motionless as a statue, with mouth wide open, arms pendant, staring at

the young landowner as though he were out of his mind.

"What a painful misunderstanding!" said the steward, in great

confusion. "I am very sorry it should have happened in my house, Herr

Nordeck. The Assessor will regret his mistake exceedingly ..."

The poor Assessor! He was so crushed, he had not even strength to

apologise. The master of Wilicza, the man of many millions, of whom

the President had lately spoken, saying that, should he come to

Wilicza, he was to be treated with special consideration--and he, the

subordinate, had threatened to have this personage conveyed handcuffed

to L----! Fortunately Waldemar took no notice of him. He now presented

his companion to the steward and the steward's daughter.

"Dr. Fabian, my friend and teacher. We saw that the Castle was lighted

up, and heard that a great festivity was going on there. I am quite a

stranger to my mother's guests, and as my sudden arrival might very

naturally have caused some disturbance, we preferred to make a call on

your hospitality--at all events, until the visitors take their

departure. Besides this, there are some matters I wish to talk over

with you, Herr Frank--matters referred to in your letter, which I only

received a few days ago. I was travelling, and it was sent on after me

from place to place. Could we have half an hour's talk in private?"

Frank opened the door of his study. "May I ask you to step in here?"

Waldemar turned to his friend before going. "Pray wait for me here,

Doctor. I trust you are in no danger now of being treated as a

conspirator, and I shall soon be back." He bowed slightly to the young

girl, and left the room with the steward, having apparently lost sight

of the fact of the Assessor's existence.

"Herr Assessor," said Gretchen, going up to that unfortunate

representative of the L---- police, "I congratulate you on your

promotion."

"Oh, Fraeulein!" groaned the unlucky man.

"You will have to acquaint his Excellency the President with the result

of your researches, you know, to make a personal report."

"Fraeulein Margaret!"

"I have not the eye of a detective, have I?" continued the girl,

mercilessly. "Who would have thought that the young heir would have

'conspirator' so legibly, so unmistakably stamped on his countenance?"

It had cost the Assessor a great effort to hold his ground so far.

Mockery from those lips was more than he could bear. He rose, stammered

an excuse to the Doctor, the principal person concerned being no longer

present, and pleaded a feeling of indisposition as a pretext for

withdrawing as quickly as possible.

"Fraeulein," said Dr. Fabian, rather timidly, but in a compassionate

tone, "that gentleman appears to be somewhat eccentric. Is he

perhaps ...?" and he touched his forehead with a significant gesture.

Gretchen laughed. "No, sir; but he is burning to advance in his career,

and he fancies that a couple of conspirators would help him forward

immensely. He thought he had found them in you and Herr Nordeck."

The Doctor shook his head sorrowfully. "Poor man! There is certainly

something morbid about him. I am afraid his career will hardly be so

brilliant as he hopes."

"I don't think it will," said Gretchen, very decidedly. "Our Government

is a great deal too sensible for that!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: It is said that the city of Vineta really existed, and

that traces of it may yet be seen near Leddin, a village in the island

of Usedom, in the Baltic.]

[Footnote 2: Regierungsrath.]

END OF VOL. I.

* * * * *

PRINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BECCLES. _S. & H_.

End of Project Gutenberg's Under a Charm, Vol. I (of III), by E. Werner