Under a Charm. Vol. I

"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."