The latter's good humour had regained the upper hand already, and the thought of the double mortification which he must of necessity inflict on the nephew of his rival and the unsuccessful suitor of his betrothed, revived anew all his conscientious scruples.
"Herr Hubert," he began, supposing that gentleman to be already acquainted with the recent events at the University– which was far from being the case–"it is very painful to me to think that your uncle should misjudge me, as would, unfortunately, appear to be the case. No one can more sincerely appreciate and recognise his worth than I do. Be assured that I had not the smallest share in the controversy which my 'History of Teutonism' provoked. Professor Schwarz seems to think that I stirred up the dispute from interested motives, and purposely envenomed it."
A light, a terrible light, began to dawn on the Assessor. He did not know the name of that obscure individual whom the opposite party had glorified, by attempting to place his work on a level with, nay above, Schwarz's writings; but he knew that the book in question was a 'History of Teutonism,' and Fabian's words left no room for doubt that the author of that book, the intriguer, the criminal aggressor, who had disturbed the peace of the family celebrity, now stood before him in person. He would have given vent to his astonishment, to his indignation in words; but Gretchen, who already felt it incumbent on her to represent the future Professor's wife, interfered again.
"Yes, Professor Schwarz might be led to fancy so, particularly as Dr. Fabian is nominated to succeed him in his chair at the University of J–. You know, of course, that your uncle has sent in his resignation?"
The Assessor fairly gasped for breath. Fabian cast a supplicating look at his betrothed, but Gretchen was merciless. She could not forget that Hubert had boasted but a few months ago of her favour and certain acceptance of him. She was determined to give him a lesson; so she played her last trump, and, taking the Doctor by the hand, with solemn formality proceeded thus–
"At the same time, Herr Assessor, allow me the pleasure of introducing to you, in the future Professor Fabian, the successor of your celebrated uncle, my affianced husband."
"I think the Assessor has turned crazy," said Frank, addressing the Inspector with a look of real uneasiness, as they stood together outside in the courtyard. "He has just rushed out of the house, like a lunatic, nearly running over me, and without a word of excuse or apology shouting for his carriage. He has been so excited all the morning. I hope this conspiracy business won't turn his head. Just go after him, will you, and see what he is about, and if he is likely to do any mischief."
The Inspector shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to the carriage, which at that moment was seen rolling away at full speed. "It is too late, Herr Frank. He is off yonder."
Frank shook his head gravely, and went into the house, where he received an explanation of the Assessor's stormy exit, which calmed his apprehensions on the score of that gentleman's sanity. The Castle coachman, who was also standing before the house, folded his hands, and said with a deep sigh of relief, "He is gone, thank God; now he can't examine me any more!"
CHAPTER XIII
At Castle Wilicza there reigned a dull sultry atmosphere, pregnant with storms, which made itself felt even in the servants' quarters. Since Herr Nordeck's return from the border-station on the previous evening in the company of Countess Morynska, the barometer had stood at stormy point in the upper regions of the great house–of this there was but too good evidence. The young Countess had had an interview with her aunt on the evening of her arrival, but since then had not left her room. The Princess herself was but rarely visible; but when she appeared, her countenance was such that the domestics thought fit to keep as much as possible out of her way. They knew that frowning brow and those tightly set lips augured nothing good. Even Waldemar did not show his accustomed cold composure, the unruffled calm which he was wont to oppose to the outer world at the very time when the fiercest emotions were raging within him. There was something gloomy and irritable in his manner. Perhaps the repulse he had twice met with from Wanda during the day might be the cause of this. He had not succeeded in getting sight of her since the moment when he had laid her, half fainting from agitation and loss of blood, in his mother's arms. She refused to see him, and yet he knew that she was not seriously ill. The Doctor had assured him over and over again that the Countess's wound was not dangerous, and that she would be able to leave for Rakowicz on the following day, though he had felt it his duty to oppose her wish of returning home at once.
The young landowner had not indeed much time to devote to such matters; demands on his attention flowed in from all quarters. The ranger's corpse was brought over to Wilicza, and then it was that news of the foresters' flight was had. It was necessary that the station should at once be placed under other care, and that measures should be taken to insure the safety of Inspector Fellner, who had been sent over _ad interim_. Waldemar was forced to order and direct everything himself. Then came Assessor Hubert, tormenting him with his interrogatories, his protocols, and his advice, until he lost patience, and resorted to his mother's approved expedient for shaking off importunate persons. Hardly, however, was he quit of the Assessor and his fancied discoveries, when fresh claims were made upon his time and thoughts. News had been carried to L– of the state of affairs in the insurgents' camp, and it was known that there would, in all probability; be fighting close to the frontier within the next few days. Orders had been issued in consequence by the military authorities. The forces stationed along the border were to be considerably strengthened, so as to guard the territory on this side from possible violation or disturbance.
A strong detachment of troops passed through Wilicza; and whilst the men halted down in the village, the officers, who were personally acquainted with Nordeck, rode up to the Castle. The Princess was invisible, of course. She had always been invisible to her son's guests since the latter had openly declared himself against her and hers; so Waldemar was obliged to receive the new-comers himself–whether he were, or were not, at that moment disposed to see strangers, no one thought of inquiring. It behoved him to show them a quiet, impassible brow, in order that they should gain no further information on the subject of the family tragedy than that of which they were already possessed. They knew the rôle which their host's brother and uncle were playing in the insurrection, the position in which the son stood towards his mother. This was all food for daily gossip in L–, and Waldemar was keenly alive to the solicitous care they showed to avoid in his presence all allusion to these matters, abstaining even from any mention of the revolt, except as connected with the latest military movements on the German side. At last, late in the afternoon, the detachment set out on its way again, so as to reach its destination on the frontier before dark. Finally Dr. Fabian, the happy lover and future Professor, appeared with his double news, for which he claimed his old pupil's interest and sympathy, obliging the latter to take part in another's joy at the moment when he saw his own happiness hopelessly shattered and wrecked. It required, indeed, a nature of finely tempered steel, such as Nordeck's, to face all this with a stoical appearance of calm composure.
Early on the second day after the event at the border-station, the Princess sat alone in her drawing-room. Her face told plainly that there had been little rest for her that night. The grey, misty morning light without was too faint to penetrate into that lofty, dim apartment, the greater part of which was still wrapped in shadow; only the fire on the hearth sent its restless, flickering gleams on the carpet around, and on the figure of the Princess sitting close by, lost in gloomy thought.
Resting her head on her hand, she meditated long and sadly. The accounts which had reached her of the late occurrences still agitated and engrossed her mind. This woman, whose constant rule it was to take her stand on the domain of facts, and adroitly to shape her plans in accordance with them, found herself for once unable to meet the difficulties before her. So all had been in vain! The unsparing rigour with which she had torn the veil from her niece's mind, in order to arm the girl against a growing passion; the absolute separation lasting through long months; the late interview at Rakowicz–all had been in vain! The sight of Waldemar in peril had sufficed in one single instant to scatter all other considerations to the wind. Soon after her arrival, Wanda had told her aunt all that had happened. The young Countess was too proud, too completely under the bias of national prejudices, not to seek at once to clear herself from any suspicion of what the Princess called 'treason.' She declared to this stern judge that she had sent no warning, had betrayed no trust; that only at the last moment, when all secrets connected with the station were beyond concealment, had she stepped forward and interfered. How she had acted, what she had done to save Waldemar, she was equally unable to conceal; the wound on her arm was there to bear evidence against her.
The entrance of her son roused the Princess from all the tormenting thoughts which were racking her brain. She knew whence he came. Pawlick had informed her that this morning, for the third time, Herr Nordeck had attempted to gain admittance to the Countess Morynska, and that on this occasion he had obtained what he sought. Waldemar approached slowly, until he stood opposite his mother.
"You come from Wanda?" said she.
"Yes."
The Princess looked up in his face, which at this moment was clearly lighted up by a blaze of the fitful fire. There were lines of pain in it–of pain, bitter but repressed.
"So you forced an entrance in spite of her repeated denial? But what, indeed, could _you_ fail to accomplish! Well, the interview must have convinced you that it was no prohibition of mine which closed Wanda's door, as you so positively assumed. It was her own wish not to see you, a wish you have lightly enough regarded."
"After what Wanda risked on my behalf the day before yesterday, I had at least the right to see and speak to her. It was necessary for me to speak to her. Oh, do not be afraid!" he went on with rising bitterness, as the Princess was about to interrupt him. "Your niece has fully justified your expectations, and has done all that lay in her power to rob me of hope. She believes, no doubt, that she is prompted by her own will alone, while, in reality, she is blindly submitting to be led by yours. Those were your words, your views, which I have just had expounded to me by her mouth. If left to herself, I should perhaps have succeeded, have gained my end by persistent effort, as I succeeded in getting speech of her; but I lost sight of the fact that for the last forty-eight hours she has been exclusively under your influence. You have represented that promise which you persuaded her into giving my brother, which you forced from her when little more than a child, as an irrevocable vow, to break which were mortal sin. You have so baited her with your national prejudices …"
"Waldemar!" exclaimed his mother, indignantly.
"With the prejudice," he repeated, emphatically, "that it would be treason to her family and to her people, if she were to consent to listen to me, because it happens that I am a German, and that circumstances have forced me into an attitude of hostility towards your party. Well, you have attained your object. She would rather die now than lift a hand to free herself, or give me leave to do it for her; and for this I have to thank you, and you alone."
"I certainly reminded Wanda of her duty," replied the Princess, coldly. "My words were, however, hardly needed. Reflection had brought her to her senses, and I trust this may now be the case with you. Ever since the day on which you openly declared yourself my enemy, I have known that your old boyish fancy was not extinct, but that it had, on the contrary, developed into a passion with you. In what measure this passion was returned, I only learned yesterday. It would be useless to reproach you with what has happened. No recrimination can undo it now, but you must feel that you owe it both to yourself and to Leo to consent to an absolute separation. Wanda sees this and agrees to it. You must submit also."
"Must I?" asked Waldemar. "You know, mother, that submission is not my forte, especially where all the happiness of my life is at stake."
The Princess looked up with an expression of surprise and alarm. "What do you mean? Would you wish to rob your brother of his betrothed, after robbing him of her love?"
"That Leo never possessed. Wanda did not know her own heart when she yielded to his affection for her, to her father's wish and yours, and to the family plans. It is I who possess her love, and now that I have this certainty, I shall know how to defend my own."
"You take a high tone, Waldemar," said the Princess, almost scornfully. "Have you reflected as to what answer your brother will be likely to make to such a claim on your part?"
"If my betrothed declared to me that she had given her love to another, I would set her free, absolutely, unconditionally, no matter what I might suffer through it," replied the young man, steadily. "Leo, if I know him, is not the man to do this. He will be beside himself with rage, will distract Wanda with his jealousy, and will inflict on us a series of violent scenes."
"Are you the one to prescribe moderation, you who have done him the deadliest injury?" returned his mother. "True, Leo is far away, fighting in his people's sacred cause, hourly risking his life, and little dreaming the while that his brother, behind his back …"
She stopped, for Waldemar's hand was laid firmly on hers. "Mother," he said, in a voice which acted as a warning to the Princess–she knew that with him this low constrained tone always preceded an outbreak–"no more of this. You do not believe in these imputations yourself. You know better than any one how Wanda and I have struggled against this passion–know what a moment it was which unsealed our lips. Behind Leo's back! In my room lies the letter which I was writing to him before I went to Wanda. My interview with her need make no change in it. He must be told that the word 'love' has been spoken between us. We could neither of us endure to conceal it from him. I intended to give you the letter. You alone have positive information as to where Leo is now to be found, and you can provide for its reaching him in safety."
"On no account," cried the Princess, hastily. "I know my son's hot blood too well to impose such torture on him. To remain at a distance, possibly for months, a prey to the keenest jealousy, conscious that he is here threatened in that which he holds most dear–such a trial is beyond his strength. And yet he must persevere, must remain at his post until all is decided. No, no, that is not to be thought of. I have Wanda's word that she will be silent, and you must give me a promise too. She returns to Rakowicz to-day, and, so soon as she has quite recovered, will go to our relations in M–, to stay there until Leo has come back and can defend his rights in person."
"I am aware of it; she told me so herself," replied Waldemar, gloomily. "It seems she cannot put miles enough between us now. All that love, that desperation could suggest, I tried with her–in vain. She met me always with the same unalterable 'no.' Be it so, then, until Leo's return. Perhaps you are right; it will be better that we should settle this matter face to face. For myself, I should certainly prefer it. I am ready to meet him at any moment; what may betide, when we do come together, is another and a very different question!"
The Princess rose, and went up to her son. "Waldemar, give up these senseless hopes. I tell you, Wanda would never be yours, even were she free. The obstacles between you are too many, too insurmountable. You are mistaken if you reckon on any change of mind in her. What you term national prejudice is her very life's blood, the food on which she has been nourished since her earliest youth; she cannot renounce it, without renouncing life itself. Even though she love you, the daughter of the Morynskis, the betrothed of Prince Baratowski, knows what duty and honour require of her; and did she not know it, we are there to remind her–I, her father, above all Leo himself."
A well-nigh contemptuous smile played about the young man's lips, as he replied, "Do you really imagine that one of you could hinder me if I had Wanda's consent? That she should refuse it me, that she should forbid me to fight on her side, and to win her–there's the sting which nearly overcame me just now. But, no matter! A man who, like myself, has never in his life known what love is, and who suddenly sees such felicity before him, does not forego and put it from him so easily. The prize is too high for me to yield it up without a struggle. Where I have all to win, I may stake all, and, were the obstacles between us tenfold more formidable, Wanda should still be mine!"
There was an indomitable energy in the words. The red firelight from the hearth shone up into Waldemar's face, which at this moment looked as though cast in bronze. Once again the Princess was fain to recognise the fact that it was her son who stood before her with that ominous blue mark on his brow, with the look and bearing 'of his mother herself.' Hitherto she had sought in vain to account for the wonderful, the incredible circumstance that Waldemar–cold, gloomy, repellant Waldemar–could be preferred to her Leo; that he should have triumphed over his handsome, chivalrous brother in the matter of a woman's love,–but now, in this moment, she understood it all.
"Have you forgotten who is your rival?" she asked, with grave emphasis. "Brother against brother! Shall I look on at a hostile, perhaps a fatal encounter between my sons? Do you neither of you heed a mother's anguish?"
"Your sons!" repeated Waldemar. "If a mother's anguish, a mother's fondness here come in question, the words can only apply to one son. You cannot forgive me for disturbing your darling's happiness, and I know a solution of the problem which would cost you but few tears. Make your mind easy. What I can do to prevent a catastrophe, I will do. Take care that Leo does not make it impossible for me to think of him as a brother. Your influence over him is unlimited, he will listen to you. I have learned to place a restraint on myself, as you are aware; but there are bounds even to my self-control. Should Leo drive me beyond these bounds, I will answer for nothing. He does not show a very nice regard for the honour of others, when he thinks himself injured in any way."
They were interrupted. A servant brought word to his master that a noncommissioned officer, belonging to the detachment which had passed through Wilicza on the previous day, was below and urgent in his entreaty to be allowed to see Herr Nordeck at once. Waldemar went out. During the last few days he had grown accustomed to these disturbing calls upon him, coming always at the moment when he was least disposed to meet them.
The sergeant announced was waiting in the anteroom. He brought a polite message and a request from the commanding officer. The detachment had no sooner arrived at its new post than it had been obliged to proceed to action. There had been serious fighting during the night; it had ended in the discomfiture of the insurgents, who had fled in the greatest disorder, hotly pursued by the victors. Some of the fugitives had taken refuge on this side the frontier; they had been arrested and disarmed by a body of patrols, and were now to be sent under escort to L–. Among them, however, were a few so seriously wounded that it was feared they would not be able to bear the transport. The captain begged that the sick might, for the present, be lodged at Wilicza, which lay within easy reach. The ambulance was now waiting in the village below. Waldemar was ready on the instant to comply with the demand upon him, and at once ordered the necessary arrangements to be made at the manor-farm for the reception of the wounded men. He went over himself in company of the sergeant.
The Princess remained alone. She had not heard the news, nor taken any notice of the message which had summoned her son away. Her mind was busy with far other thoughts.
What would come now? This question arose ever anew before her, like a menacing spectre which was not to be laid. The Princess knew her sons well enough to feel what might be expected, were they to meet as enemies–and deadly enemies they would assuredly be from the moment Leo discovered the truth; Leo, whose jealousy had at the first vague suspicion blazed forth so hotly that it had almost seduced him from his duty–should he now learn that Waldemar had indeed robbed him of the love of his betrothed–should Waldemar's merely external calm give way and his native fierceness break out again with its old violence.... The mother shuddered, recoiling from the abyss which seemed to open out before her mental vision. She knew she should be powerless then, even with her youngest-born–that in this matter her influence with him had been exerted to the uttermost. Waldemar and Leo had each their father's blood in their veins, and however great the contrast between Nordeck and Prince Baratowski may have been, in one thing they resembled each other–in their incapability of bridling their passions when once fully aroused.
The door of the adjoining room was opened. Perhaps it was Waldemar coming back–he had been called away in the midst of their conversation; but the step was more rapid, less steady than his. There came a rustle in the portières, they were hastily pulled back, and with a cry of fear and joy the Princess started from her seat.
"Leo, you here!"
Prince Baratowski was in his mother's arms. He returned her embrace, but he had no word of greeting for her. Silently and hastily he pressed her to him, but his manner betrayed no gladness at the meeting.
"Whence do you come?" she asked, reflection, and with it anxiety, quickly regaining the upper hand. "So suddenly, so unexpectedly! And how could you be so imprudent as to venture up to the Castle in broad daylight? You must know that you are liable to be arrested! Patrols are out all over the country. Why did you not wait till dusk?"
Leo raised himself from her arms. "I have waited long enough. I left yesterday evening; all night I have been on the rack–it was impossible to pass the frontier. I had to lie in hiding. At last, at daybreak I managed to cross and to reach the Wilicza woods, but it was hard work to get to the Castle."
He panted this out in agitated, broken phrases. His mother noticed now how pale and troubled he looked. She drew him down on to a seat, almost by force.
"Rest; you are exhausted by the effort and the risk. What madness to hazard life and freedom for the sake of just seeing us again! You must have known that our anxiety on your account would more than counterbalance our joy. I cannot understand how Bronislaus could let you leave. There must be fighting going on all round you."
"No, no," said Leo, hastily. "Nothing will be done for the next four and twenty hours. We have exact information as to the enemy's position. The day after to-morrow–to-morrow, perhaps–may be decisive, but till then all will be quiet. If there were fighting on hand, I should not be here; as it was, I could not keep away from Wilicza, even though my coming should cost me my life or my freedom."
The Princess looked at him uneasily. "Leo, your uncle has given you leave of absence?" she asked suddenly, seized, as it were, by some vague dread.
"Yes, yes," replied the young Prince, keeping his eyes averted from his mother's face. "I tell you all has been foreseen and arranged. I am posted with my detachment in the woods about A–, in an excellent position, well covered. My adjutant has the command until I return."
"And Bronislaus?"
"My uncle has assembled the main forces at W–, quite close to the border. I cover his rear with my troops. But now, mother, ask me no more questions. Where is Waldemar?"
"Your brother?" said the Princess, at once surprised and alarmed, for she began to divine the secret connection of events. "Can it be that you come on his account?"
"I come to seek Waldemar," Leo broke out with stormy vehemence, "Waldemar and no one else. He is not at the Castle, Pawlick says, but Wanda is here. So he really did bring her over to Wilicza like a captured prey, like a chattel of his own–and she allowed it to be! But I will show him to whom she belongs. I will show him–and her too."
"For God's sake, tell me–you have heard …"
"What happened at the border-station? Yes, I have heard it. Osiecki's men joined me yesterday. They brought me word of what they had seen. Perhaps you understand now why I came over to Wilicza at any risk?"
"This was what I feared!" said the Princess, under her breath.
Leo sprang up, and stood before her with flashing eyes. "And you have suffered this, mother; you have stood by looking on while my love, my rights, were being trampled under foot–you who can control, can command obedience from every one! Has this Waldemar subdued you too? Is there no one left who dares oppose him? Fool that I was to allow myself to be talked out of calling him to account before I left, to be dissuaded from taking Wanda away to a distance where no further meeting between them would have been possible! But"–speaking now in a tone of bitter sarcasm–"but my suspicion was an insult to her, and my uncle accounted my 'blind jealousy' as a crime. Can you see now with your own eyes? Whilst I was fighting to the death for my country's freedom and salvation, my betrothed was risking her life for the man who openly declares himself on the side of our oppressors, who has set his foot on our necks here in Wilicza, just as the tyrants out yonder have tried to crush our kindred and friends. She betrays me, forgets her country, people, family, all, that she may shield him in a moment of peril. Perhaps she will try to protect him from me; but she had better beware. I care nothing now which of us perishes, whether it be he or I, or she with us both."
The Princess seized his hands, as though imploring him to restrain his fury. "Be calm, Leo; I entreat, I require it of you. You shall not rush to meet your brother in this spirit of fierce hatred. Listen to me first."
Leo tore himself free. "I have listened to too much. I have heard enough to make me mad. Wanda threw herself into his arms when Osiecki levelled his rifle at him, screened him with her own body, made her breast his shield–and I am still to hesitate to speak of treachery! Where is Waldemar? Not so hidden but he can be discovered, I suppose?"
His mother tried in vain to soothe her darling; he did not listen to her, and while she was considering how, in what manner, it might yet be possible to avert that fatal meeting, the worst befell, which at that moment well could have befallen. Waldemar came back.
He entered with a rapid step, and was going up to the Princess, when he caught sight of Leo. More than surprise, horror and alarm were portrayed on the elder brother's face at the sight. He turned very pale, and measured the younger man from head to foot; then his eye flashed as though with scorn and anger, and he said slowly–
"So this is where you are to be found!"
Leo's countenance betrayed a sort of savage satisfaction on seeing the object of his hate before him. "You did not expect to see me?" he asked.
Waldemar made no reply. His more prudent and reflective mind at once took in the thought of the danger to which Leo was here exposing himself. He turned, went into the next room and closed the door, and then came back to them.
"No," he replied, only now answering the question, "and your mother hardly expected it either."
"I wanted to congratulate you on your heroic deed at the border-station, for you probably look on it in the light of an exploit," went on the young Prince, with undisguised scorn. "You shot down the ranger, and showed a bold front to the rest of the band, I hear. The dastards did not dare to touch you."
"They crossed the frontier the same night," said Waldemar, "to join you, probably."
"Yes."
"I thought so. When did you leave your post?"
"Are you going to put me on my trial?" exclaimed Leo. "I am here to call you to account. Come, we have some matters to talk over together."
"Stay," commanded the Princess. "You shall not meet alone. If an explanation is inevitable, I will be present at it. Perhaps you will then not altogether forget that you are brothers."
"Brother or not, he has been guilty of the most shameful treachery towards me. He knew that Wanda was engaged to me, and he did not hesitate to decoy her and her love from me. It was the act of a traitor, of a co …"
His mother tried to stop him, but in vain. The word 'coward' fell from his lips, and Waldemar started as though a ball had struck him. The Princess grew ashy pale. It was not the frenzied passion of her younger son which so alarmed her, but the expression on the face of the elder as he drew himself erect. It was Waldemar she held back, Waldemar she feared, though he was unarmed, while Leo wore his sword at his side. Stepping between them with all a mother's authority, she called to them imperatively–
"Waldemar! Leo! control yourselves, I command you."