"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.