Kitabı oku: «Vineta, the Phantom City», sayfa 15

There is a point where even the most violent and anguished suffering yields to stupefaction, at least for a time, because the capacity to suffer is completely exhausted. For more than an hour Wanda had been alone in her chamber, torn by conflicting emotions; her face bore traces of the agony she had endured; she had reached that place where she could no longer dispute or question, where she could not even think. She sank helplessly upon a chair, leaned back her head, and closed her eyes.

The old dream-picture reappeared–that vision once conjured up by the sun's golden beams and the ocean vapors, and which had thrown its magic spell around two youthful hearts as yet ignorant of its deep significance. Since that autumnal evening at the forest-lake it had often appeared before their eyes, and all their strength of will had not availed to exorcise its haunting presence. It had accompanied them on that lonely drive through the wintry forest, it had hovered around them as they sped over those broad fields of snow, it had taken shape and hue from the mists rising in the zenith, it had floated on the lowering clouds away at the horizon's verge; no desolate waste, no icy atmosphere hindered its appearance. And now it suddenly rose again in its olden beauty and splendor, as if evoked by supernatural powers.

Wanda had not invoked this vision. She had placed distance and estrangement between herself and the man she wished to hate because he was not the friend of her people; she had sought a way of escape from an infatuation which she was resolved to conquer, in the fierce strife that had broken out between two hostile nations. This desperate conflict with herself had been unavailing, it had ended only in defeat. She was under the influence of no dream, no self-delusion; she knew the nature of the spell that had first been thrown around her at the beech-holm, that had been renewed at the forest-lake, that had deepened and strengthened day by day.

In one thing surely the old tradition had spoken truth: the remembrance would not vanish, the longing would not be stilled. In the midst of strife and hatred a fairy vision rose before her, beautiful as Vineta emerging from its ocean-depths,–the vision of a love truer and deeper than any other earth could offer, of a happiness that might have been hers if kindlier fates had smiled upon her life, and in fancy she heard a chiming as of bridal bells from the old city towers sunken beneath the wave.

Wanda rose slowly. The conflict between love and duty which had raged so long in her breast was over; the last ten minutes had decided it. The pen upon her writing-desk remained untouched, the words of warning were not written. She leaned for support against the desk; her hand trembled, but her face bore the serenity of an unalterable purpose.

"I will go to the forester's," she said, "and if the worst happens, I will interpose. His mother coldly and indifferently allows him to rush into the midst of danger. I will rescue him!"

CHAPTER XXI.
THE RESCUE

The border-forester's place was situated in the midst of dense forests, and close to the boundary. The once large and stately house, which had been erected here by the elder Nordeck, showed signs of dilapidation and decay, as it had not been repaired for twenty years. The present occupant owed his position to the Princess Zulieski. He had been here three years, his bad management being entirely overlooked by his mistress, because she knew that he was devoted body and soul to her interests, and could be relied upon in any emergency. Waldemar seldom visited this distant portion of his estate, and had only a very slight acquaintance with the forester. He had, however, of late felt obliged to interfere, on account of the conflicts between this man and the soldiers who guarded the German frontier.

Winter still held undisputed sway. Forest and forest-house lay wrapped in snow, and the dim light of a gray, cloudy sky fell around the chill, desolate landscape. The forester and his men, numbering three or four assistants and as many servants, were gathered in a large room upon the ground-floor. They were all armed, and were awaiting the landlord's arrival. Waldemar had ordered the forester, Osiecki, and his men to depart quietly from the place, but appearances did not indicate an intention to obey. The lowering faces of the subordinates boded nothing good, and the forester's aspect was that of a man capable of any act of desperation. These men, who had passed their lives in the solitude of the forest, were little disposed to law and order, and their leader was known as one who placed but slight restraint upon his lawless, passionate nature.

They all maintained a respectful attitude at this moment, for the young Countess Morynski stood before them. She had thrown back her cloak, and her pale, beautiful face bore no traces of the agonized conflict through which she had just passed. Its ruling expression was a stern, cold gravity.

"You have led us into an unfortunate position, Osiecki," she said. "Instead of seeking to avert suspicion from this quarter, you provoke collision with the patrols, and you imperil us all by your indiscretion. My aunt is displeased with you, and I come to forbid your again committing any act of violence against any person whomsoever."

The reproof did not fail of its effect. The forester cast down his eyes, and his voice had an apologetic tone, as, with mingled defiance and penitence, he answered,–

"What is done cannot be helped; I could restrain neither my men nor myself. You do not know what it is to remain inactive here upon the frontier, while every day there is fighting over yonder,–to be obliged to endure the presence of these domineering soldiers, and not dare to act, even when we have loaded muskets in our hands. I do not think our patience will hold out much longer; we lost it entirely day before yesterday. If I did not know that we were needed here, I should long ago have been with the army. Prince Zulieski is stationed only a few miles from here–we can easily find our way to him."

"You must remain," said Wanda, resolutely. "You know my father's orders. This forester's place must be retained at all hazards, and you can do more for us here than you could in battle. Prince Leo has men enough under his command. But now to the main point: Herr Nordeck is coming here to-day."

"Yes," replied the forester, jeeringly; "he says that he will enforce obedience. He orders us to Villica Castle, where he can watch us constantly, and lay his finger upon us at any moment. Nordeck can command, but the question is, Shall we obey? If he intends driving us away from here, he will have to call a whole regiment of soldiers to his aid; otherwise, things may end worse than he imagines."

"What do you mean?" asked the young countess; "do you forget that Waldemar Nordeck is the son of your mistress?"

"Prince Leo Zulieski is her son and our master," broke out the forester. "It is a shame for the princess and all of us to be ruled by this German, just because his father twenty odd years ago intruded here, and compelled the young Countess Morynski to marry him. The marriage brought her misery enough, but the son is even worse than his father. We know the life they lead together; she really would not mourn his loss any more than she did the loss of his father, and his death would be the best thing that could happen. Then there would be no need of issuing secret commands from the castle; the princess would rule, and our young prince would be the heir and the future master of Villica, as he ought to be."

Wanda turned pale. The unhappy strife between this mother and son had gone so far that the tenants on the estate were deliberately estimating the advantages Waldemar's death would bring to his nearest relatives–that they even counted upon the forgiveness of the princess for his assassination! Wanda's worst fears were confirmed, but she knew that she dared not betray her anxiety by word or manner. She was respected here as the daughter of Count Morynski, as the niece of the princess, and she was supposed to speak in the name of the latter. If her purpose in coming should be discovered, her authority and her ability to protect Waldemar would end.

"Do not venture to attack your master," she said, with a commanding air, and as calmly as if she were delivering a message intrusted to her. "Whatever happens, the princess will spare her son at any cost. The man who attacks him need hope no mercy. Your disobedience, Osiecki, has already exasperated your mistress; do not attempt rebellion a second time."

The forester set down his gun reluctantly, and the other men followed his example. Wanda, acting as the representative of their mistress, could have gained her object if more time had been granted her; but Waldemar's sleigh now drew up before the door, and all eyes were turned to the window.

Wanda started. "Is the landlord already here?" she said. "Osiecki, open the side-door for me, and do not betray my presence by a word. I shall go as soon as he leaves."

Wanda entered a small, dimly lighted room, and closed the door behind her. Two minutes after, Waldemar appeared in the house. He paused upon the threshold, and with one sweeping glance scanned the circle of foresters, who, still grasping their weapons, gathered around their leader. This was not a very encouraging spectacle for the young landlord, who had come entirely alone to enforce obedience from his rebellious subordinates, but his voice and manner betrayed no alarm as he turned to the forester, and said,–

"I did not notify you of my coming, and yet you seem prepared for it."

"Yes, we are awaiting you," was the laconic answer.

"Armed? And in this attitude? Why are weapons in your hands? Set them down!"

Osiecki set down his musket, but not beyond his reach; the others did the same. Waldemar advanced to the middle of the room.

"I come to seek explanation of an error that occurred yesterday," he said. "My order could not have been misunderstood, for it was sent to you in writing. The messenger, however, might have misapprehended your answer."

The forester hesitated; he had not the audacity to repeat to his master's face what he had said to the messenger the day before.

"I am frontier forester," he answered, "and I intend to remain so as long as I am in your service, Herr Nordeck. I am responsible for my district, and must have the management of it."

"You have shown yourself incapable of management; you cannot or will not hold your men in check. I have warned you repeatedly; yesterday was the third time, and it is also the last."

"At a time like the present, I cannot prevent my men from coming in conflict with the patrols," said the forester, defiantly. "My authority does not extend so far."

"For this very reason you should go to Villica, and leave the control here to me."

"And my district?"

"Will remain under charge of Overseer Fellner until the arrival of the new forester. You will leave this place to-morrow, and if you do not report at Villica with all your men, you will be dismissed."

A threatening murmur was heard. The men pressed close together, and the overseer confronted his landlord. "That is not so easily done," he said; "I am no common laborer, to be hired to-day and discharged to-morrow. You can give me notice to leave if you wish, but I and the men I have engaged have a right to remain until autumn. I do not wish to take any other district, and I will not; whoever attempts to drive me away will repent it."

"The forest is my property," returned Waldemar, "and the foresters must submit to my authority. Appeal to no right you yourself have forfeited! If justice were done you, you would receive a severer punishment than mere transferral. You will either comply with my orders, or I shall to-day tender this place to the government as a post of observation, and to-morrow troops will occupy the house."

The overseer made a hasty movement as if to grasp his musket, but he checked himself.

"You will not do that, Herr Nordeck," he said.

"I shall do it in case of disobedience or opposition. Now tell me plainly, will you appear at Villica to-morrow, or will you not?"

"No, and a thousand times no!" replied the forester in a towering passion. "I have orders not to leave here, and I shall go only when forced to do so."

Waldemar was startled. "Orders? From whom?"

The forester saw his blunder, but it was too late to recall the hasty words.

"From whom have you received orders?" repeated the young landlord. "Is it from the princess, my mother?"

"Well, what if it were so? The princess has ruled us for years, why should she not rule us now?"

"Because the master is himself at hand, and two persons cannot hold the reins. My mother is my guest; I am ruler of Villica. You say you have orders not to leave unless forced to do so? Here is something more than mere insubordination."

The forester maintained an obstinate silence. Through his own indiscretion he had been guilty of what the princess would have called treason, and what Wanda's hasty mission was intended to prevent. That one unguarded word betrayed to Waldemar that the opposition to which he had thus far attached little importance, was the result of a deep-laid scheme on the part of his mother.

"We will not discuss the matter further," said Waldemar. "To-morrow this district will be in other hands. The rest of our business can be arranged at Villica Castle."

He was on the point of leaving, but the overseer seized his musket and intercepted him.

"I think we had better come to a final settlement now," he said. "Once for all, I tell you I shall not leave my place; I shall not go to Villica; and you shall not go from here until you have revoked your command!"

The foresters, like well-drilled soldiers, each seized his weapon, and in an instant the young landlord was surrounded by sullen, threatening faces–faces which indicated plainly that the men would shrink from no deed of violence. The man[oe]uvre had been so quick and so well executed, that it must have been planned. Waldemar, perhaps, regretted that he had come alone, but he retained his usual composure.

"What does this mean?" he asked. "Am I to take it as a threat?"

"Take it for what you please," said the border-forester, beside himself with rage; "but you shall not stir from here until you comply with our terms! It is now our turn to say 'either--or.' Take care, you are not bullet-proof!"

"You have already made the test, perhaps," the young landlord said, riveting his gaze upon the forester. "From whose gun did the ball come that was fired at me when I left here on my last visit?"

The only answer was a gleam of deadly hatred from Osiecki's eyes.

"I have another ball, and so has each of my men. We are ready to put them to the proof. To come to the point: you must either give us your word–your word of honor, (for this is more binding with people of your rank than any written agreement,)–that all of us shall remain here unmolested, that no soldier shall set foot here, or–"

"Or?"

"You shall not leave this place alive!"

This menace was followed by ominous mutterings from the men. They pressed more closely around the young landlord, six rifle-barrels raised threateningly backed the overseer's words, but not a muscle of Waldemar's face moved as he deliberately eyed the group.

"You are fools," he said, contemptuously; "do you not know that if you kill me you must suffer the consequences? Such deeds never escape discovery."

"We are not afraid," replied Osiecki, derisively; "in half an hour we should be beyond the boundary, in the thick of the fight. None would call us to account; our own party would thank us for having rid it of a bitter and powerful enemy. Besides, we are tired of staying here; we want to join our comrades in the army. Now, I ask you for the last time, will you give us your word of honor?"

"No!" said Nordeck, without moving from his place, or taking his eye from the speaker.

"Bethink yourself, Herr Nordeck," cried the overseer, in a voice half stifled with rage; "consider ere it is too late!"

With a few rapid strides, Waldemar reached the wall, and braced himself firmly against it.

"No! I repeat; and since we have gone so far, you had better think what you are about before attacking me. A couple of you at least will pay with your lives for an attempt to murder me. I can hit as well as you!"

These words let loose the storm which had been so long impending. A wild tumult arose; angry mutterings, curses, and threats came thick and fast. More than one man placed his finger upon the trigger of his gun. The overseer was about to give the signal for a simultaneous attack, when the side-door opened, and the next instant Wanda stood close to the imperilled landlord.

Her appearance for the moment restrained the would-be assassins; she stood so near their master that to fire upon him would endanger her life. Waldemar was at first confounded by the young girl's mysterious presence, but the truth soon flashed upon him. Her death-like pallor, the expression of desperate energy with which she took her position at his side, told him that she had learned of his danger and was here for his sake alone.

The danger was too imminent to allow time for explanation. Wanda confronted the assailants and by turns threatened and commanded them. Her efforts were fruitless; she resorted to entreaty, but that was alike unavailing. The men gave her angry and menacing answers, the forester emphasizing his words with furious stamps and gesticulations. This vehement conversation, which had been carried on in Polish, a language little understood by Waldemar, lasted only a few moments; no one retreated a step, no one lowered his weapon. The men, exasperated to fury, no longer heeded any authority or control.

"Go away, Wanda," said Waldemar, in an undertone, as he tried gently to push her aside. "They are about to fire on me, they can no longer be restrained; give me room to defend myself."

Wanda did not stir, she only kept her place more resolutely; she knew that Waldemar, if left alone, must succumb, that his only chance of escape lay in her remaining close at his side. They would not like to harm her, but the moment was near when even this forbearance would end.

"Stand aside, Countess Morynski!" cried the forester's voice, rising above the tumult; "stand aside, or I shall hit you too."

He levelled his rifle. Wanda saw his finger on the lock, she saw his face distorted by fury and hatred, and her self-control vanished. Her mind harbored only one lucid thought–Waldemar's peril,–and as a last resort she threw herself upon his breast, and shielded him with her trembling form.

It was too late; the forester fired, and the next instant Waldemar's revolver answered. With a hollow cry, Osiecki threw up his arms and fell lifeless on the floor. Waldemar's ball had hit its mark with terrible accuracy, but he himself stood upright, and Wanda with him. The movement she had made in trying to shield him had drawn him out of the range of the overseer's deadly shot, and had saved both him and her.

All this had occurred so quickly that none of the men had taken part in the murderous affray. It seemed that in one and the same moment they had seen Wanda throw herself on Waldemar's breast, their leader lying on the ground, and the landlord confronting them ready for a second shot. A deathlike silence of some moments followed; no one moved.

Immediately after the firing, Waldemar stationed himself before Wanda. He comprehended the situation at a glance. The door was blockaded, six loaded muskets opposed his single weapon. If the firing should be renewed and Wanda attempt to shield him, both would be lost. An effectual defence was out of the question. Courage even to rashness alone could avail.

Summoning his whole resolution, he threw himself into the midst of his assailants; his tall figure towered above them all, and his infuriated glance flamed down upon the cowards who sought to assassinate him.

"Put down your guns!" he cried, in a loud, imperious voice. "I tolerate no rebellion upon my estates. The first man who has attempted it lies there; the next will share his fate. Down with your arms, I say!"

The men stood as if paralyzed, and stared speechless at their master. They hated him, they were in revolt against him, and he had just shot their leader. To avenge Osiecki's fall would be their next and most natural step. They had intended to attack Waldemar, but as he strode among them and with his bare hand thrust aside their weapons, they recoiled before him. That old habit of blind obedience, which, without asking any reason, submits to all commands, asserted itself; it was the instinctive submission of inferior natures to a superior. They trembled, and shrunk back from these flaming eyes which they had long since learned to fear,–from this threatening, commanding brow. The forester's never-failing ball had passed by this man harmlessly, and he lay dead upon the floor, shot through the heart. The men cowered back with a sort of superstitious dread. The levelled guns were gradually lowered, the circle around the landlord grew wider; he had passed unharmed through this great peril–he had parried six weapons with one.

Waldemar approached Wanda, and taking her arm, drew her gently to his side. "Out of our way!" he said to the men, in a commanding tone; "make room for us!"

The men moved sullenly aside, opening a passage to the door. Not a word was uttered; in silence they allowed their master and the young countess to pass through. Waldemar did not hasten in the least; he knew that the danger was over only for the moment, that it would return with redoubled force as soon as the men recovered their self-possession and were conscious of their advantage; but he also knew that the slightest indication of fear must prove fatal. The power of his eye and voice still ruled these savage men. He must break away from them before the spell was over, and this might happen at any instant.

He left the house with Wanda. The sleigh was standing outside, and the driver, with a terror-stricken face, ran to meet them. Waldemar assisted Wanda in and sat down by her side.

"Drive slowly as far as those trees," he said to the coachman, in an undertone, "then give your horses the whip, and make all possible haste."

The man obeyed; the trees were soon passed, and they flew on like the wind. Waldemar held the revolver in his right hand, and firmly grasped Wanda's hand with his left. He retained his defensive attitude until they were a long distance from the forest-house and all danger of attack was over. He then turned to his companion, and saw that the hand he held in his was covered with blood. Heavy drops trickled down the young girl's sleeve; and the man who had just faced death with such iron composure, trembled and grew pale.

"It is nothing," said Wanda, in reply to his inquiry; "the overseer's ball must have grazed my shoulder. I feel the wound now for the first time."

Waldemar hastily drew out his handkerchief and bound up the wounded arm. His look and manner betrayed all that was in his heart, and he was on the point of speaking, when the young girl lifted her pallid face to his. She said nothing, yet there was such an expression of anxious entreaty in her eyes, that Waldemar kept silent; he saw that he must forbear, at least for the present. He uttered only her name, but this one word conveyed more than a passionate declaration of love.

"Wanda!"

He sought her gaze in vain, her hand lay heavy and cold in his.

"Wanda!" he repeated. "Greater love hath no one than this, that he should lay down his life for his friend. You have imperilled your life for mine."

"Yes, and I would have died for you," she said, in a faint, hollow voice that fell upon his ear like an expiring gasp. "But you are the enemy of my people–and I am the betrothed of Leo Zulieski!"