Vineta, the Phantom City

He went, and Gretchen received full details of the plot for the count's release from her husband. Her ill-humor vanished, and her face and manner expressed supreme delight at the consciousness that she was at last treated with as much respect as even a Polish woman could demand, and allowed to have her share in the conspiracy.

It was night. The superintendent's house was wrapped in slumber, and the servants at Villica had retired. Lights still gleamed from some upper windows of the castle, and in the embrasure of one of them stood a tea-table, which had been laid as usual, although no one had tasted a mouthful. Gretchen's righteous soul was vexed; she was for the time being mistress here, and liked to see things go on in an orderly manner. She ere long compelled her husband to take a seat at the table, and there gave him a mild but very impressive lecture.

"Do not torture yourself so with anxiety, Emil! Would you see me also ill from excitement, like those ladies in the next room? Their pale faces frighten me. I cannot endure the sight of their silent anguish. I think they prefer for us to leave them alone. Our tea is ready; why should we not drink it together?"

Fabian pushed aside the obtrusive tea-cup.

"Your despondency is past comprehension," added Gretchen. "Waldemar Nordeck carries through all his undertakings; there must be something in the superstition of these Villica people which declares him bullet-proof. He will safely cross the line, and the count with him."

"God grant it!" ejaculated Fabian. "If that Hubert were not on their track, I should be more confident. If he should meet the count and Waldemar in any disguise, he would recognize them."

"Hubert has all his life been doing the most stupid things," said Gretchen, disdainfully; "he will not be likely to do anything clever at this late hour. He will make some blunder or other, you may rely upon that."

The princess and Wanda remained in the adjoining parlor; the lamp which was burning upon a side-table only partially lighted the lofty room, its depths remained in shadow. The princess sat motionless amid the dense shadows, in the same place she had occupied the morning when Leo's unblest return had drawn that fatal catastrophe upon himself and his family. The mother struggled painfully with the remembrances which came thronging around her. What had become of those daring plans, of those lofty hopes and glowing anticipations which had centred here? They all lay in ruins; Bronislaw's rescue was the only boon it was in the power of destiny to offer, but the rescue was only half accomplished, and perhaps at this very moment Waldemar was paying for his hazardous venture with his life.

Wanda stood in the niche of the large central window and gazed out with straining eyes, as if she would pierce the outer darkness. She had opened the window, but she did not feel the sharp night-air; she was not conscious how she shuddered at its chilling breath. No memories of the past, with its blighted plans and hopes, haunted this hour for her; she thought only of the danger of the two beings she loved best on earth, and her heart asserted its right; she trembled most for Waldemar.

It was a cold, foggy night, and no moon was visible. Only now and then a star gleamed forth, to vanish soon behind the clouds. No sound broke the profound silence all around the castle; the park lay dark and still; and amid the pauses, when the wind was lulled to rest, every falling leaf was heard.

Wanda started suddenly, and a half-suppressed cry passed her lips. The next moment the princess stood at her side.

"What is it? Do you see anything?"

"No; but I think I hear a sound of hoofs in the distance."

"I fear it is only imaginary, we have so often been deceived."

The two women leaned far out of the window, and listened in breathless silence. They fancied they heard a sound distant and half audible, but the wind rose anew and drowned it. After some ten minutes of agonized suspense, a sound of muffled footsteps was heard in an alley of the park which led into the forest. By straining their eyes to the utmost, Wanda distinguished amid the darkness two forms emerging from among the trees.

"They are here," whispered Fabian, with white lips, as he burst suddenly into the room. "They are coming down the side-steps, and will enter through the back gate which I opened half an hour ago." Wanda's first impulse was to rush to meet them, but Gretchen held her back. "We are not alone in the castle," she said; "we must be quiet and cautious."

A few moments passed, then the door opened softly. Count Morynski stood on the threshold, and behind him towered up Waldemar's stately form. That very instant Wanda was clasped in her father's arms.

The professor and his wife had tact enough to withdraw, and Waldemar also followed them, giving both a cordial greeting.

"What a desperate undertaking, you have been engaged in, Waldemar!" said Professor Fabian. "Supposing you had been discovered?"

Waldemar smiled. "Before engaging in any bold venture, we must count the chances," he said; "in leaning over a precipice, if we think of dizziness, we are lost. I went straight on to my purpose, looking neither to the right nor the left."

He threw aside his cloak, and taking a revolver from his breast-pocket, he laid it on the table. Gretchen, who was standing near, stepped back.

"Do not be frightened, madam," he said. "The weapon is not cocked; the affair has been carried through without bloodshed. We found an unexpected helper in Assessor Hubert."

"The new government counsellor?" asked Gretchen, in surprise.

"The very same. And so he has really become counsellor! Well, he can air his new dignity over in Poland. We drove across the border in his carriage with his pass and credentials."

The professor and his wife were speechless with amazement.

"O, but he did not grant us this favor of his own accord," continued Nordeck; "he will be sure to call us highway robbers; but necessity knows no law. Our freedom and life were at stake, and we had to act promptly. Yesterday afternoon we arrived at a Polish village-inn, only a dozen miles from the border. The landlord was a Pole, and warned us against pursuing our journey before dusk, as the officers were on our track. Both his sons had served the revolution under Count Morynski, and the whole family would have risked their lives to save him. Toward nightfall our horses stood saddled in the stable, and we were about to depart, when all at once Assessor Hubert appeared at the inn, making inquiries for us. His carriage had received some injury on the way, and he had left it at the blacksmith's to be repaired. The landlord concealed us in the garret, and pretended to know nothing of us. We distinctly heard the assessor down-stairs haranguing, in his usual voluble style, about conspiracies and arch-traitors. In the course of his remarks he gave us the very information in regard to his plans for arresting us which we most of all wished to obtain. No choice was left us; we must leave as quickly as possible. Immediate proximity to danger gave me a happy thought, and I imparted it to the landlord, who at once informed the assessor that his carriage would not be ready for an hour. Hubert was exasperated at the delay, but he consoled himself in a measure by doing ample justice to the very excellent supper which was set before him. Meantime we slipped out at a back-door, and upon arriving at the smith's, we found the carriage in readiness. I stepped inside, my uncle, who passed for my servant, mounted the box, the landlord's son handed him the reins, and we drove out of the village by an unfrequented road.

"No sooner had I entered the carriage than I made an invaluable discovery. The assessor's overcoat lay upon the back seat, and in its breast-pocket I found his letter-case with his pass, his credentials for his present mission, and other valuable papers. I, with my giant stature, could make no use of the pass, but the other papers did me good service, for they contained minute directions in regard to the methods to be pursued in our arrest. We were, of course, unprincipled enough to use for our own benefit the documents issued against us.

"As the assessor had informed the people at the inn that he had passed through A– that morning, we took a by-road to the next border station, and drove boldly through the town as Government-Counsellor Hubert and his coachman. I showed my papers, and demanded permission to pass on quickly as possible, for fear lest the fugitives I was pursuing might escape me. So great was my apparent haste, that my pass was not demanded. We left our carriage a few miles on this side of the boundary, pursuing the way to our border-forester's on foot. There Herr Frank met us with his horses, and–here we are!"

Gretchen, who had listened intently, could not conceal her delight at the trick which had been played upon her former admirer, but Fabian, always inclined to sympathize with the unfortunate, asked, anxiously, "What has become of poor Hubert?"

"He remains over in Poland, without a carriage and without credentials," replied Waldemar, dryly; "and he may think himself fortunate if he is not looked upon as an arch-traitor. Circumstances are very much against him, and he may even now be enjoying the pleasures he had destined for us."

"What a delightful conclusion of his official career!" exclaimed Gretchen, mockingly, and regardless of her husband's warning glance.

"We may as well let Hubert rest!" said Waldemar. "Shall I not see you both in Villica on my return? I am here to-night incognito, but in a few days I shall return from Altenhof, where I am supposed to be at present. Now I must greet my mother and my–cousin."

CHAPTER XXIX.

REUNION

Waldemar re-entered the room where he had left his relatives. The count sat in an easy-chair; both his arms were around Wanda, who knelt before him, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He had aged greatly during these last twelve months. He had left Villica a strong, energetic man, in the prime of middle life; he returned old in body and in heart, broken down by mental and physical suffering.

The princess, who stood near her brother, was first to observe the young man's entrance.

"Are you here at last, Waldemar?" she said, in a reproachful tone, as she advanced to meet her son; "we began to think you was not coming."

"I did not wish to intrude," replied Waldemar, hesitatingly.

"Will you always insist upon remaining a stranger to us? Have you not been so long enough? My son," she added, extending both arms to him, "I thank you."

For the first time since infancy Waldemar was clasped in his mother's arms. In that long, fervent embrace years of estrangement, strife, and bitterness vanished; that cold, hostile barrier which had separated two beings who belonged to each other by the holiest and nearest ties of kindred, was broken down. The son had at last won his mother's love.

The count rose and offered his hand to his deliverer. "Thank him your whole life long, Maryna," he said; "you do not know what he has dared for me."

"The venture was not so great as it appeared," returned Waldemar. "I smoothed the way beforehand. Wherever prisons exist, bribery is possible, and golden keys sometimes unlock the strongest doors. I have hitherto set little value upon the wealth that came to me without any effort or merit of my own, but I have at last learned its worth."

Wanda still kept close to her father, holding him fast, as if she feared he might again be torn from her. She had not uttered a word of thanks, but her glance spoke more than words. Waldemar understood that silent language, and was content.

"The danger is not over," he continued; "Hubert's papers, which are now in my hands, authorize your arrest and extradition, even here. You must rest a few hours, and then we will leave for S–, which is the nearest seaport, and only a day's journey. An English ship has for four weeks lain there at my disposal; it is ready to sail at any moment, and will carry you directly to England. Upon your arrival there, France, Switzerland, and Italy will be open to you. When once upon the high seas, you are safe."

"And you, my nephew, will you not have to atone for this deed?"

"I have no fears," replied Waldemar; "I am a German, and as such your political enemy. If my connivance in your escape is discovered, it will hardly be considered a crime, since I am your nephew, and hope ere long to be your son."

As Waldemar alluded to the closer tie that would soon bind him to his uncle, the latter was deeply moved; his lips quivered, his features seemed convulsed by some inward struggle. He had fought against his daughter's love for this man with every weapon at his command. For the sake of rending a tie so hated he had consented for Wanda to accompany him into an exile that must be almost certain death. Never had the old national animosity been stronger in his heart than at this moment of shipwreck to all his hopes, but he looked upon the man who had rescued him, who had risked life for his sake, and then he bent down to his daughter.

"Wanda!" he said, softly.

Wanda gazed into his face. Never had she seen it so sorrowful as at this moment. As she read in his eyes what acquiescence would cost him, every selfish wish vanished, and filial love and tenderness alone ruled her heart.

"Not now, not now, Waldemar," she cried, imploringly; "you see what my father has suffered and is suffering still. You cannot ask me to leave him at the very moment of reunion. Allow me to remain a little longer at his side–one brief year more. Shall I let him go into a foreign land, into exile, alone and ill?"