Vineta, the Phantom City

by E. Werner

CHAPTER XIX.

[THE FOREST DRIVE.]

Some hours later, Waldemar Nordeck was returning from L----, whither He had ridden in the morning. Intercourse between Villica Castle and the city was becoming quite frequent, and Waldemar often went to L----, where he always received the most polite attentions from the government officials, who well knew what a powerful ally they had in him, the master of a frontier estate, whose disloyalty might prove very dangerous.

Waldemar knew that his disagreement with his mother was the topic of daily conversation in L----, and that exaggerated reports were in circulation. Firmly resolved to furnish no material for gossip, he presented a firm front and a quiet brow to strangers; but now, when alone and unobserved, his forehead, which had just seemed perfectly calm and unruffled, grew corrugated and anxious. He rode along heedless of all around him, and upon arriving at a cross-road, he reined up mechanically to allow passage to a sleigh which was advancing at full speed.

Norman reared suddenly; his rider had jerked the reins so violently that the animal was frightened, and sprang wildly to one side of the road. In so doing, his hind-feet caught in a rut hidden beneath the snow; he stumbled, and nearly fell with his master.

Waldemar quickly guided his horse into the road, where a sleigh, in which a lady sat, had stopped short at her command.

"Pardon me, Countess Morynski," he said, "if I have frightened you; my horse shied upon suddenly meeting yours."

"I hope you are not injured," said Wanda, turning pale.

"O, not at all; but my Norman--"

He did not finish the sentence; he sprang quickly from the saddle. Norman was evidently injured in one of the hind-feet. Waldemar made an examination, and said, coldly but politely, "I beg you not to delay your journey on account of this slight mishap, Countess Morynski." He bowed, and stepped aside to allow the sleigh to pass.

"Shall you not mount again?" asked Wanda, as she saw Waldemar throw the reins over his arm.

"No; Norman has injured his foot, and limps badly; he cannot possibly carry me."

"But Villica is nearly a dozen miles distant from here," said Wanda; "you cannot possibly walk there."

"No other alternative is left me; I must at least take my horse to the nearest village, and leave him there until I can send for him."

"But it will be dark before you reach the castle."

"No matter--I know the way."

Wanda knew that the road to Villica led most of the way through a dense forest full of dangers to the young landlord, who was the object of so much secret hostility.

"Would it not be better for you to take a seat in my sleigh?" she asked, in a low, timid voice, not daring to lift her eyes. "My coachman can take your horse to the village."

Waldemar gazed intently into the young girl's face; her proposition seemed to surprise him greatly.

"No, I thank you; you are doubtless on your way home?"

"Radowicz does not lie far out of your way--you can leave me there, and then take the sleigh and drive home." These words were uttered in a subdued, almost anguished tone. Waldemar let the reins fall slowly, and some moments passed before he replied,--

"I think it will be better for me to go directly to Villica."

"But I implore you, do not walk there alone; ride along with me."

There was such a tone of anxiety in Wanda's voice, that the refusal was not renewed. Waldemar resigned his horse to the coachman's care, and took his seat. The place at Wanda's side remained vacant.

They drove on in profound silence. Waldemar gave his whole attention to the reins. Wanda wrapped her furs more closely about her, and, apparently absorbed in herself, did not pay the least heed to her companion, who sat on the driver's box, which was at the back of the sleigh.

Although it was the beginning of March, winter still held undisputed sway over the earth. Far and near, the whole landscape was enveloped in snow and ice; tempestuous blasts swept over it, whirling the snow and sleet in all directions.

The wind went down at last, but the air was raw and cold as upon the bleakest December day. The horses flew over the smooth road, the keen, frosty air lending them new life and vigor, but a chill, oppressive atmosphere seemed to envelop the two inmates of the sleigh, who sat there silent and wrapped in their own contemplations. They had not met for three months, and this was the first time they had been alone since that interview by the forest-lake. Melancholy and depressing as that autumnal evening had been, with its fallen leaves and its flitting shadows, yet nature, even in dying, had then shown some signs of life; now, the pangs of dissolution were over; a deathly silence pervaded the broad fields stretching out so white and boundless. Nothing but snow met the eye, while overhead floated leaden clouds, and all nature lay stark and dead in this wintry solitude and desolation.

The road ere long turned into the forest, where the snow was so deep that the horses were compelled to slacken their pace. The driver relaxed the reins which he had thus far held so tightly. On both sides of the way, dark, giant pines bent beneath their burden of snow; one of the boughs grazed Waldemar's head, and a cloud of snowflakes fell over him and his companion, who for the first time turned half around, and remarked,--

"The road to Villica lies all the way through an unbroken forest just like this."

Waldemar smiled. "I am fully aware of that," he said; "I make the journey very often."

"But not on foot and at dusk. Do you not know, or will you not believe, that it is dangerous for you to do so?"

Waldemar's face grew grave. "If I had entertained any doubts of that," he said, "they would have been dispelled by the ball that grazed my hair as I was passing along here a few days ago."

"After that experience, your constant venturing forth alone is an actual challenge," exclaimed Wanda, unable to conceal her alarm.

"I am always armed; no escort can protect me against a secret shot. As matters now stand, if I should manifest fear and surround myself with safeguards, my authority would be at an end. My best course is to continue to face attacks alone."

"And what if that ball had hit?" asked Wanda, in a tremulous voice. "You see how near the danger came."

The young man bent forward toward her seat. "In insisting upon my accompanying you, did you wish to shield me from a similar danger?" he asked.

"Yes," was the scarce audible answer.

Waldemar seemed about to reply, but as though a recollection had suddenly flashed upon his mind, he seized the reins, and said, in a bitter tone,--

"You will have to pay dear for this to your party, Countess Morynski."

She turned quite around, and her eyes met his. "No," she said; "for you have proclaimed open enmity to us. It lay in your power to offer us peace; you declared war."

"I did what I was forced to do. You forget that my father was a German."

"And your mother is a Pole."

"You need not remind me of it in that reproachful tone. That unhappy difference of nationality has cost me so much that I cannot forget it for a moment. It caused the separation of my parents; it poisoned my childhood, it embittered my youth and robbed me of my mother. Perhaps she would have loved me as she loves Leo if I had been a Zulieski. She, more than all others, made me cruelly atone for being--the son of my father. Our present political antagonism is simply the result of the past."

"You carry out this antagonism with an iron will," said Wanda, excitedly. "Any one else would have sought a reconciliation, an adjustment, which would certainly have been possible between a mother and son."

"Between any other mother and son, perhaps, but not between the Princess Zulieski and me. She forced me to the alternative of submitting unconditionally to her interests, or of declaring war against her. Were it not for this struggle for the mastery, she would have left me long ago. I certainly did not request her to remain."

Wanda did not reply; she knew that Waldemar was right, and the certainty forced itself upon her that this man, who was universally considered cold and forbidding, was grieved and pained at his mother's want of affection for him. In those exceptional moments when he disclosed his inner nature, he always reverted to this subject. The indifference of his mother toward him and her love for her younger son, had been the dart which had pierced the heart of the boy, and in the man's heart the wound had never healed.

They had passed through the forest; the horses quickened their pace, and soon Radowicz appeared in sight. Waldemar was about to turn into the main avenue leading to the castle, but Wanda pointed in another direction.

"Let me alight at the outskirts of the village," she said; "I prefer to walk the short distance to my home. You can keep on in the road to Villica."

"Then you dare not appear at Radowicz in my company," said Waldemar, after a moment's silence. "You could never be forgiven if you did so--we are enemies."

"It is your fault alone that we are so; our struggle is not against your fatherland, it is to be fought out on a foreign soil."

"It is better not to discuss this matter," said Nordeck, resignedly. "Necessity may have driven your father and Leo into the conflict, but the same necessity drives me to opposition. Birth and family traditions point out but one way to Leo, and he has taken it, but I was forced to choose between the two sides. I must belong to one party or the other; I could not oscillate between both. No one cares to ask what the step I have taken costs me; but no matter. I have chosen, and shall maintain my position. Leo throws himself enthusiastically into the contest for his highest ideal, spurred on by the love and admiration of his kindred; he knows that his safety is their daily concern, and even danger has a charm for him; but I stand alone at my post, in daily peril of assassination. All Villica hates me, and my mother, my brother, and you, Wanda, hate me more bitterly than all others. Fate has not dealt equally with Leo and me, but I have never been spoiled by love and indulgence, and I can endure anything. So continue your hatred, Wanda; doubtless it is best for us both."

Upon reaching the entrance to the village, Waldemar reined in the horses, sprang from the seat, and offered to assist Wanda in alighting. She declined the proffered aid. No parting word came from her compressed lips; she merely bowed.

"I shall send back the sleigh to-morrow, with my thanks," Waldemar said, coldly, "if you will not reject them."

Wanda seemed to be passing through an inward conflict; she should already have been on the way, but she still lingered.

"Herr Nordeck!"

"What is your pleasure, Countess Morynski?"

"I--you must promise me not to be so rash as to again expose yourself to danger as you were on the point of doing to-day. You are right: all Villica hates you; do not make it so easy for your enemies to attack you, I entreat."

Waldemar's face flushed deeply--he cast only a single glance at her's, and all his enmity vanished. "I will be more cautious," he said, in a low voice.

"Then farewell!"

Wanda turned and took the way leading to the village; Waldemar gazed after her until she disappeared in the distance; he then resumed his seat and drove swiftly to Villica. The road soon entered the forest; he drew his pistol from his pocket, and laid it beside him. While he held the reins with his usual firmness, his eyes glanced in all directions. The daring, fearless man had all at once become cautious and vigilant; he had promised to be so, and he now knew that there was one person who trembled even for his life.