Kitabı oku: «Under a Charm. Vol. II», sayfa 6
If on that evening the Wilicza park and its environs still remained free from all inopportune vigilance, the dwellers at the Castle had naturally no notion to whom their thanks for such immunity were due. About the time that Dr. Fabian and Fräulein Margaret were engaged in concocting their plot, a family meeting had taken place in the Princess Baratowska's apartments. Count Morynski and Leo were equipped for travelling; their cloaks lay in the ante-room, and the carriage, which half an hour before had brought the Count and his daughter over, still stood in the courtyard, ready to start again. Leo and Wanda had withdrawn into the deep recess of the centre window, and were talking eagerly, but in a low voice, while the Princess was also carrying on a conversation in an undertone with her brother.
"In the present state of affairs I look upon it as fortunate that circumstances require your hasty departure," she said. "On Leo's account it is desirable, for he would never endure to stay on at Wilicza, if Waldemar begins to play the master. He is not capable of controlling himself. I saw by the way in which he received my disclosures that I should certainly be provoking a catastrophe, if I were to insist on his remaining longer with his brother. As it is, they will not meet for the present, and that is best."
"And you yourself will really be able to hold out here, Hedwiga?" asked the Count.
"I must," she answered. "It is all I can do for you now. I have yielded to the reasoning by which you describe open war with Waldemar as useless and full of peril. We have given up Wilicza as our centre of operations–for the time being, that is; but for you and Leo it is still the place where messages can be sent, and whence news can be transmitted to you in return. So much liberty, at least, I shall be able to maintain. At the worst the Castle will still be your refuge, should you be obliged to re-cross the frontier. Peace will not be disturbed on this side, at all events for some time to come. When do you think of going over?"
"Probably to-night. We shall wait at the last forester's station to find out how and where it will be possible to cross. This evening the last transport of arms will be sent after us; it will be left provisionally in the forester's charge. I consider this precaution to be urgently necessary. Who knows whether your son may not take it into his head to search through the whole Castle on his return the day after to-morrow?"
"He will find it clear"–the Princess clenched her hand in repressed rage, and her lips twitched strangely–"clear as he commanded it should be; but I swear to you, Bronislaus, he shall pay for that command and for his tyranny towards us. I hold the means of retaliation and a bridle wherewith to hold him in check, should he attempt to go still greater lengths."
"You hinted something of the sort before," said the Count; "but I really do not understand by what means you still hope to tame such a nature. Judging by Wanda's description of the scene between you and Waldemar, I place no faith in the power of any bridle to restrain him."
The Princess said nothing; she evidently had no wish to answer him, and was freed from the necessity of so doing by the two young people at that moment leaving the window recess and coming up to them.
"It is impossible to make Wanda change her mind," said Leo to his mother. "She decidedly refuses to come to Wilicza–she will not leave Rakowicz."
The Princess turned to her niece with an expression of great severity.
"This is folly, Wanda. It has been arranged for months that you should come to me when your father's long-foreseen absence should occur. You cannot, ought not to stay at Rakowicz alone. I am your natural protector, and you will put yourself under my charge."
"Excuse me, dear aunt, I shall do nothing of the sort," replied the young Countess. "I will not be the guest of a house whose master conducts himself towards us in this hostile spirit. I can bear it no better than Leo."
"Do you think it will be easy for your aunt to hold her ground here?" asked the Count, reproachfully. "She makes the sacrifice for us, because she wishes to keep Wilicza open as a refuge for us in case of need, because it must not permanently be given up, and were she to go, it would be lost to us for ever. I may well ask for equal self-denial from you."
"But why is my presence here so necessary, so indispensable?" cried Wanda, hardly attempting now to control her vehemence. "The considerations which weigh with my aunt do not exist for me. Let me stay at home, papa."
"Give way, Wanda," entreated Leo; "stay with my mother. Wilicza lies so much nearer the frontier, we can keep up some communication far more easily. Perhaps I may make it possible to see you once. Certainly I hate Waldemar as bitterly as you do, now that he has openly declared himself our enemy; but, for my sake, put a constraint on yourself and endure him."
He had seized her hand. Wanda drew it away almost violently. "Let me be, Leo; if you knew why your mother wishes to have me with her, you would be the first to oppose it."
The Princess knitted her brow, and quickly interfering to cut short her niece's speech, she said, turning to the Count–
"Show your authority as her father at last, Bronislaus, and command her to remain. She must stay at Wilicza."
The young Countess started angrily at these words, which were spoken with great harshness. Her exasperation drove her beyond bounds.
"Well, then, if you compel me to speak out, my father and Leo shall hear my reason. I did not at the time understand the ambiguous words you spoke to me a little while ago, but now I know their meaning. You think I am the only person Waldemar will not offer up, the only one who can restrain his hand. I do not think so, for I know him better than you; but no matter which of us is right–I will not put it to the test."
"And I would never, never endure that such an experiment should be made," blazed out Leo. "If that was the motive, Wanda shall remain at Rakowicz, and never set foot in Wilicza. I believed that Waldemar's old attachment had long ago died out and was forgotten. If it is not so–and it cannot be, or the plan would never have been imagined–I will not leave you near him for a day."
"Make your mind easy," said Wanda, her own voice, however, sounding anything but tranquil; "I shall not again allow myself to be used as a mere tool, as I was in the old days at C–. I have played with this man and with his love once, but I will not do it a second time. He has let me feel his contempt, and I know the weight of it; yet there was nothing worse then to arouse his scorn than the caprice of a thoughtless child. If he were to discover a scheme, a calculation, and I were one day to read that in his eyes–I would rather die than bear it!"
She had allowed herself to be so carried away by her vehemence that she forgot all those around her. Erect, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes, she delivered this protest with such passionate intensity of feeling that the Count gazed at her in astonishment, and the Princess in consternation; but Leo, who had been standing by her side, drew back from her. He had turned very pale, and in his eyes, as he fixed them on her steadily, enquiringly, there was more than astonishment or consternation.
"Rather die!" he repeated. "Do you set such store by Waldemar's esteem? Do you know so well how to read in his eyes? That is strange."
A hot flush overspread Wanda's face. She must herself have been unconscious of this, for she cast a look of unfeigned indignation at the young Prince, and would have answered him, but her father interfered.
"Let us have no jealous scenes now, Leo," he said gravely. "Do you wish to disturb our parting, and to offend Wanda just when you are about to leave her? As you now insist upon it, she shall remain at Rakowicz. My sister will yield to you on this point, but do not again wound Wanda by any such suspicions. Time presses, we must say farewell."
He drew his daughter to him, and now in the moment of separation all the tenderness which this grave, melancholy man cherished in his heart towards his only child, broke forth. He clasped her to him with profound and painful emotion. But the Princess waited in vain for her son to approach her. He stood with a dark frown on his overcast face, looking down at the ground, and biting his lips until they bled.
"Well, Leo," remonstrated his mother, at last, "will you not say good-bye to me?"
The words startled him from his brooding. "Not now, mother. I will follow my uncle later. He will not want me at first; I shall stay here a few days longer."
"Leo!" cried the Count angrily, while Wanda, raising herself from his arms, looked up in indignant surprise. These marks of reprobation only served, however, to harden the young Prince in his rebellion.
"I shall stay," he persisted. "Two or three days cannot possibly make any difference. I will take Wanda back to Rakowicz before I leave, and make myself sure that she will remain there; above all, I will wait for Waldemar's return, and have the matter cleared up in the shortest way. I will challenge him with his feelings towards my affianced wife. I will …"
"Prince Leo Baratowski will do what duty bids him, and nothing else," interrupted the Princess, her cold clear voice ringing out in sharpest contrast to her son's wild agitated tones. "He will follow his uncle, as has been agreed, and will never stir one minute from his side."
"I cannot," cried Leo, impetuously. "I cannot leave with this suspicion at my heart. You have promised me Wanda's hand, and yet I have never been able to assert my right to it. She herself has always sided coldly and inexorably with you. She has always wished to be the prize which I must fight for and win in the struggle we are now entering on. But now I demand that she shall be publicly and solemnly betrothed to me beforehand, here in Waldemar's presence, before his eyes. Then I will go; but until this is done, I will not stir from the Castle. Waldemar has proclaimed himself master and lawgiver here in such a surprising manner–no one ever expected it of him–he may just as suddenly transform himself into an ardent adorer."
"No, Leo," said Wanda, with angry disdain; "but at the beginning of a struggle your brother would not refuse to follow where duty leads, even though it should cost him his love and his happiness."
They were the most unfortunate words she could have spoken; they robbed the young Prince of all self-control. He laughed out bitterly.
"Oh, his risk would be small; but it might easily cost me both if I were to go away and leave you to your unbounded admiration of him and his sense of duty. Uncle, I ask permission to put off my journey, only for three days, and if you refuse me, I shall take it. I know that nothing decisive will be done at the first, and I shall be there in time enough for all the preparatory movements."
The Princess would have interposed, but the Count held her back. He stepped up to his nephew with an air of authority.
"That is for me to decide, and not for you. Our departure has been fixed for today. I consider it necessary, and with that all is said. If I have to submit each of my orders to your approval, or to make them subservient to your jealous caprices, it will be better that you should not go with me at all. I exact from you the obedience you have sworn to your leader. You will either follow me this very hour or, take my word for it, I will exclude you from every post where I have power to command. You have the choice."
"He will follow you, Bronislaus," said the Princess, with sombre earnest. "He will follow you, or he will cease to be my son. Decide, Leo. Your uncle will keep his word."
Leo stood battling with himself. His uncle's words, his mother's imperious looks, would probably have remained powerless in presence of his jealousy, now so violently aroused; but he saw that Wanda shrank from him. He knew that by staying he should incur her contempt, and that thought turned the scale. He rushed to her, and took her hand.
"I will go," he gasped; "but promise me that you will avoid Wilicza during my absence, and only see my mother at Rakowicz–above all, that you will keep at a distance from Waldemar."
"I should have done that without any promise," replied Wanda, more gently. "You forget that it was my refusal to remain at Wilicza which led to this outburst of most groundless jealousy on your part."
Leo drew a breath of relief at the thought. Yes, it was true. She had refused, peremptorily refused to remain under the same roof with his brother.
"You should have spoken more convincingly," he said, in a calmer tone. "Perhaps I may one day apologise for having wounded you–I cannot now, Wanda"–he pressed her hand convulsively in his. "I do not believe you could ever be guilty of such treason to me, to us all, as to love this Waldemar, our foe, our oppressor; but you ought not to feel any of this esteem, this admiration for him. It is bad enough that he should love you, and that I should know you to be within his reach."
"You will have some trouble with that hot-headed boy," said the Princess to her brother in a low voice. "He cannot comprehend the word 'discipline.'"
"He will learn it," replied the Count with quiet firmness; "and now good-bye, Hedwiga. We must be gone."
The leave-taking was short and less hearty than it would have been under other circumstances. The dissonance of feeling called forth by the foregoing scene prevailed to the last. Wanda suffered Leo to take her in his arms in silence; but she did not return his embrace, though she threw herself once again with passionate tenderness on her father's breast. The same jarring note disturbed the adieux of mother and son. The Princess whispered a remonstrance, a warning so grave and earnest that Leo withdrew himself from her arms more hastily than was his wont. Then the Count once more held out his hand to his sister, and went, accompanied by his nephew. They put on their cloaks outside in the ante-room; and going down, entered the carriage which was waiting for them below. One more wave of the hand to the windows above, then the horses moved on, and soon the roll of the carriage wheels was lost in the distance.
The two ladies were left alone. Wanda had thrown herself on the sofa, and hidden her face in her hands. The Princess still stood at the window, and looked long after the carriage which was bearing her darling away to the strife and to danger. When at length she turned round and came back into the room, traces might be seen even in her proud face of what the parting had cost her–only by an effort could she maintain her accustomed outward calm.
"It was unpardonable of you, Wanda, to arouse Leo's jealousy at such a moment in order to carry your point," said she, with bitter reproach. "You ought to be sufficiently aware of this weakness of his."
The young Countess raised her head. Her cheeks were wet with recent tears.
"You yourself compelled me to do it, aunt. I had no other resource; besides, I could not divine that Leo would turn upon me in his jealous anger, that he would insult me by such a suspicion."
The Princess stood before her, looking down scrutinisingly into her face.
"Was the suspicion really an insulting one? Well, I hope so."
"What do you mean?" cried Wanda, startled.
"My dear," replied the Princess, in an icy tone, "you know that I have never taken Leo's part when he has tormented you with his jealousy; to-day I do feel he has cause for anxiety, though to him I would not admit it, not wishing to excite him further. The tone in which you delivered that 'rather would I die!' made my blood boil within me, and your dread of Waldemar's contempt was very significant, so significant that I now willingly give up all idea of keeping you at Wilicza. When I conceived the plan, I thought I could be absolutely sure of you; now I really could not be responsible for the issue to Leo, and I perfectly agree with you that–it would not do to put it to the test."
Wanda had risen. Pale as death, mute with dismay, she stared at the speaker, feeling as though an abyss were yawning open at her feet. Giddy with the sudden shock, she leaned for support against the sofa.
The Princess kept her eyes steadily fixed on her niece's face. "I know you do not suspect it yourself, and that is why I give you this hint. Sleep-walkers should be roused before they reach a perilous height. If the awakening comes too suddenly, a fall is inevitable. You have ever set energy, an iron will, above all else in your estimate of a man–that alone has constrained you to admiration. I know that, in spite of his many brilliant advantages, this one quality Leo unhappily does not possess, and I will no longer deny that Waldemar has it; so beware of yourself with your–hatred of him, which might one day reveal itself in a new light. I open your eyes now while it is yet time, and I think you will be grateful to me for it."
"Yes," replied Wanda, in a voice which was scarcely audible. "I thank you."
"Well, we will let the matter rest then; there can be no danger in it yet, I hope. To-morrow I will myself take you back to Rakowicz; now I must see that all necessary caution is observed again this evening, so that no disaster may befall us on the last day. I will give Pawlick my orders, and superintend all the arrangements myself."
So saying, the Princess left the room, firmly persuaded that she had only done her duty, and had prevented a future catastrophe, in that, energetic and unsparing as ever, she had torn away the veil which hid from the young Countess the state of her own heart. Had she seen how, on being left alone, Wanda sank down stunned and crushed, she would perhaps have perceived that the perilous height had already been reached at which a cry of warning may be fatal. It could avail neither to admonish nor to rescue. The awakening came too late.
CHAPTER VIII
Winter had come in all its bitter severity. Woods and fields lay shrouded in a thick white pall of snow, the flow of the river was stopped by a strong coating of ice, and over the frozen earth the wintry storms howled and blustered, benumbing all with their icy breath.
Another storm had been roused by them which raged more wildly than the elements. Over the frontier the long-dreaded revolt had broken out. The whole neighbouring country blazed with revolutionary fire, and each day brought its own fearful tidings. On this side the land was quiet as yet, and it seemed as though the quiet would be maintained; but peaceful the temper of that border-district could hardly be, for a thousand ties and connections bound it to the struggling province, and hardly a Polish family lived in those parts which had not at least one of its members in the ranks of the combatants.
Wilicza suffered most severely of all from this state of things. Its position made it one of the most important, but also one of the most dangerous outposts of the whole province. Not on light grounds had it been chosen to play so conspicuous a part in the plans of the Morynski and Baratowski faction. The Nordeck domain offered the most convenient connecting point with the insurrection, the surest retreat in case of contests near the frontier, while it was too densely wooded to allow of the strict supervision which had been prescribed being kept up throughout its whole extent, in spite of the numerous posts and patrols. Much had been changed, certainly, since the young proprietor had, on that memorable occasion shortly before the departure of Leo and Morynski, ranged himself so decidedly on the side of his countrymen; but from that hour a silent, bitter struggle had set in between him and his mother, a struggle which had not even yet come to an end.
The Princess was true to her word. She yielded to him not an inch of the ground to which she conceived she had a right, and Waldemar at last began to realise all the consequences of his own negligence in leaving his estates for years in her hands. If such negligence and indifference were ever to be atoned for, he atoned for them now.
He had achieved this–that his castle should no longer be made the centre of party intrigues; but he could not clear his whole domain in like manner, for its allegiance had been systematically alienated from him. The unbounded authority so long exercised by the Princess, the complete expulsion of the German element from the administration, the appointment of Polish functionaries to every post of any importance, all this now bore its fruits. Nordeck was indeed, as he had said, sold and betrayed on his own soil. The title of master was accorded him, but his mother was looked on as mistress in point of fact. Though she was careful not to appear openly in this light, her orders were transmitted to her underlings and instantly obeyed, while all Wilicza banded itself together in secret but determined opposition to those given by Waldemar. All possible intrigues and expedients were busily employed to thwart him; all that could be done to evade his orders, to counteract his measures, was done, but invariably in a way which eluded detection and punishment. No one refused him obedience in so many words; and yet he knew that "war and resistance" was the order daily issued against him. When in one place he compelled submission, rebellion raised its hydra-head in twenty others; and if one day he carried his point, on the next fresh obstacles stood in his path. He could not meet the difficulty by discharging all the disaffected; he must have parted with the whole staff of his officials. In some cases he was bound by agreements, in others he would have found it impossible to replace the men, and at the present time any arbitrary act might have been fraught with disaster. So the young master of Wilicza was forced into a position which was of all the hardest for him to bear, in that it gave no scope to his energy, but demanded only quiet, deliberate perseverance in a course once marked out; and this was the very basis on which the Princess had built her plan. Waldemar should weary of the strife. He should learn to know that his power could avail nothing in a matter wherein all Wilicza was leagued together for her, and against him. In his anger and vexation of spirit he should let fall the reins which he had so forcibly withdrawn from her hands. Patience had never been his forte. But once again she deceived herself in her estimate of her son. He now gave proof of that tenacity of purpose, that inflexible will which she was wont to consider as exclusively her characteristic. Not once did he recoil before the obstacles and annoyances she heaped up in his path; one by one he overcame them. His eye and hand were everywhere; and if, on a rare occasion, obedience was actually refused him, he then proclaimed himself the master in such a way that the first attempt would also be the last. This conduct certainly did not win for him the affection of his subordinates. If formerly they had only hated the German in him, they now hated Waldemar Nordeck personally; but already they had learned to fear, and gradually they grew to obey. Under existing circumstances fear was the one stimulus which might yet extort compliance.
The relations between mother and son became in this way more and more hostile, the situation more untenable, though the same outward forms of cool politeness were preserved. That first explanation between them had been the only one. They were neither of them given to many useless words, and both felt that there could be no question of reconciliation or agreement where character and principles were so thoroughly opposed as was here the case. Waldemar never attempted to call his mother to account; he knew she would admit nothing of the manœuvres which yet incontestably proceeded from her, and she on her side proffered no question relating to these matters. Life under the same roof was therefore possible, and, viewed from without, even tolerable. Its stings and mortifications were known but to the two concerned. Waldemar wrapped himself in a still more impenetrable reserve. He saw his mother only at table, and often not even there. The Princess, too, would frequently absent herself, going over to Rakowicz to see her niece, and staying away a considerable time. Wanda had kept her word. She had not again set foot in Wilicza, whilst Waldemar in his expeditions avoided even the part of the country in which her father's property lay.
More than three months had elapsed since Count Morynski and his nephew had left. It was generally known that they were in the thick of the strife, that the Count was playing an important part in the insurrection, and that young Prince Baratowski had been appointed to a command under his uncle. In spite of distance and difficulties, they were both in uninterrupted communication with their friends. The Princess, and Wanda also, received exact and detailed accounts of all that happened beyond the frontier, and constantly despatched messages to the scene of action themselves. The readiness with which every one in those border-districts undertook the office of messenger, laughed all obstacles to scorn.
It was about noon on a rather cold day when Assessor Hubert and Dr. Fabian walked back together from the village where they had met. The Assessor was fairly swaddled in wraps. He knew by his Janowo experience the unpleasant consequences of catching cold. The Doctor, too, had put up the collar of his cloak as a protection against the wintry weather. The severe climate did not appear to suit him. He looked paler than usual, and seemed worn and fatigued. Hubert, on the other hand, was beaming with cheerfulness and satisfaction. The events now happening on the frontier took him very often to Wilicza, or its neighbourhood. On this occasion he was about to conduct an inquiry which would detain him several days in these parts; as usual he had taken up his quarters at the steward's house, and his radiant air of contentment showed that he found them to his liking.
"It is splendid, sir," he was saying in his solemn official tones; "I tell you, Herr Nordeck's present conduct is splendid. We Government men best know how to appreciate it. The President is of opinion that this cursed Wilicza would long ago have set the example of revolt here, if its master had not stood like a wall and a rampart, holding it back. He has the admiration of all L–, the more so that no one ever expected he would one day show himself in these colours."
Dr. Fabian sighed. "I wished he deserved your admiration somewhat less. It is precisely the energy he shows which draws down more hatred on him day by day. I tremble each time Waldemar rides out alone, and there is no persuading him to take even the simplest precautions."
"True," said the Assessor, gravely. "The people here at Wilicza are capable of anything, even of lying in ambush to get a shot at their enemy unawares. I believe the only thing which has protected Herr Nordeck hitherto has been the fact that, in spite of everything, he is the Princess Baratowska's son; but who knows how long, with their national fanaticism, they will respect even such a consideration as that! What a life it must be for you all up at the Castle! No one can make out why the Princess remains. It is well known that she is heart and soul with the Polish cause. There must have been some terrible scenes between her and her son, eh?"
"Excuse me, Herr Assessor, these are family affairs," replied Fabian, evading the question.
"I understand your discretion," said Hubert, who was burning with curiosity to learn something that he could relate on his return to L–, where people busied themselves now more than ever with the owner of Wilicza and his mother; "but you have no idea what terrible stories are going the round of the town. They say that, at that time when Herr Nordeck declared himself so decidedly for us, he had come upon and dispersed a meeting of conspirators, who held their conferences in the underground vaults of his Castle under the presidency of Count Morynski and the young Prince Baratowski. When the Princess would have interfered, her son, they say, placed a pistol at her breast; she flung her curse at him, and then they both …"
"How can people in L– believe such nonsense!" cried the Doctor, indignantly. "I give you my word that no such outrageous scene has ever taken place between Waldemar and his mother–it would be contrary to their natures; no, far from that, they are on very–very polite terms."
"Really?" asked the Assessor, incredulously. He was evidently reluctant to give up the tale of the pistol and the curse–it suited his romantic fancy far better than this tame explanation. "But the conspiracy did exist," he added, "and Herr Nordeck did put the traitors to flight–he alone against two hundred! Ah, if I had only been there! I was over at Janowo, where I unfortunately failed to make any discovery. Fräulein Margaret is generally so clever, I cannot think how she could have been so mistaken–for we know now that the secret stores of arms were hidden at Wilicza, though Herr Nordeck can never be brought to admit it."
The Doctor was silent, and looked greatly embarrassed. The mention of Janowo always flurried him. Fortunately, they had now reached the spot where the road to the Castle branched off. Fabian took leave of his companion, and the latter pursued his way alone to the manor-farm.
Meanwhile an interview was there being held between the steward and his daughter, which at one time threatened to take a stormy turn. Gretchen, at any rate, had assumed a most warlike attitude. She stood before her father with her arms folded, her head with its fair crown of plaits defiantly thrown back, and as she spoke, she even stamped her little foot on the ground, in order to give more emphasis to her words.
"I tell you, papa, I don't like the Assessor, and if he chooses to come languishing about me six months longer, and you speak up for him ever so much, I'll not be forced into saying Yes."
