Vineta, the Phantom City

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.