"Pray spare me these reminiscences, sir," Waldemar broke in so harshly and abruptly that Fabian recoiled; then, recovering himself quickly, he added far more mildly, "I am sorry you, too, should feel the effects of the vexation and harass this Wilicza causes me. It was selfish of me to bring you. You should have returned to J----, at least until I had established some sort of order here, and until I could have offered you a peaceful asylum."
"Nothing would have induced me to let you come alone," Fabian declared in his gentle voice, but with a decision of manner most unusual to him.
Waldemar held out his hand to him, as if to ask pardon for his former vehemence. "I know it, but do not torment yourself any more about me, or I shall really regret having spoken openly to you. You have enough to do with your own affairs. When you write to J---- again, remember me to Professor Weber, and tell him I am about to make a practical illustration of your book, and to impress on my Slavonic lands the stamp of the Teuton. It is much needed here at Wilicza. Good-bye."
He went. Dr. Fabian looked after him, and sighed. "Impenetrable and hard as a rock directly one approaches that one subject; and yet I know that he has never got over the old trouble, and never will. I fear the unhappy influence, to escape which we so long avoided Wilicza, is again at work. Waldemar may deny it as he will--I saw it plainly when he came home from hunting yesterday--he is under the old spell again."
CHAPTER VI.
That evening perfect quiet and stillness reigned in Wilicza, in contrast to the bustle and stir of the preceding day, when the whole place had swarmed with guests. On the return from the hunt a great supper had been served which lasted far on into the night, and most of the guests had slept at the Castle, leaving early in the morning. Count Morynski and Leo had gone away, too, on a visit to a neighbouring château. They would not return for several days; but Wanda had remained to keep her aunt company.
The two ladies were therefore on this evening alone in the drawing-room. It was already lighted up, and the curtains had been closely drawn; no sign was to be seen within these walls of the fierce November storm raging without. The Princess was seated on a sofa; but the young Countess had risen from her chair, pushing it hastily back as though in annoyance, and was pacing uneasily up and down the room.
"Wanda, I do beg of you to spare me these Cassandra-like warnings," said the elder lady. "I tell you again, your judgment is warped by your antipathy to Waldemar. Does it necessarily follow that he is our enemy, because you choose to remain on a war-footing with him."
Wanda stopped in her walk, and looked darkly across at the speaker. "You will one day regret having treated my warnings with ridicule, aunt," she replied. "I persist in my opinion. You are mistaken in your son. He is neither so blind nor so indifferent as you and every one else believe."
"Instead of these vague prophecies, why not say clearly and distinctly what it is you really fear?" said the Princess. "You know that in such a case as this I do not care for people's views and fancies. I require proofs. What has suggested to you this suspicion to which you cling so obstinately? Tell me what Waldemar really said to you yesterday when you met him at the forester's station."