"No, I sent on Norman there before me. The hunt is away down by the river. The run will soon be over now, and they are sure to pass by here on their return. The rendezvous is close by."
"And what are we to do in the mean time?" asked Wanda, impatiently.
"Wait," returned Waldemar, laconically, as he unslung his gun and uncocked it.
The young Countess frowned. "Wait!" In a matter of course tone as though he took her staying for granted! She had a great mind to return at once to the forester's house; but no! It was for him to withdraw after disturbing her so unceremoniously in her retreat. She resolved to remain, even though she must spend some time longer in this Nordeck's company.
He certainly made no sign of going. He had leaned his gun against a tree, and now stood with folded arms surveying the landscape. Not once to-day had the sun succeeded in breaking through the veil of clouds; but now, at its setting, it gilded them with a bright gleam. A yellow flame spread over the western horizon, glimmering pale and uncertain through the trees, and the mists, those first precursors of evening, began to rise from the meadow ground. Very autumnal did the forest look with its half-stripped branches and carpet of dry leaves spread on the ground. Not a trace was there of that fresh sweet life which breathes through the woods in spring and summer, of that mighty vital force which pulses then through Nature's veins; everywhere existence seemed on the ebb, everywhere marks were visible of slow but unceasing decay.
The young Countess's eyes were fixed, darkly meditative, on her companion's face, as though she must and would decipher some enigma there. He seemed aware of her observation, though turning from her as he stood, for he suddenly faced round, and said carelessly, in the tone of a common remark--
"There is something desolate in the look of such an autumn landscape as evening comes on."
"And yet it has a peculiar poetic melancholy of its own," said she. "Do not you think so?"
"I?" he asked, sharply. "I have had very little to do with poetry--as you know, Countess Morynska."
"Yes, I know," she answered, in the same tone; "but there are moments when it forces itself upon one."