"So that, too, is added!" Waldemar murmured. He himself had never been on intimate terms with his uncle; but Wanda!--he knew with what passionate love she clung to her father. Had he fallen in the fight, she would have borne it better than to know him exposed to such a fate, and exposed to it through _whom_! Who was to blame for the defeat of that corps, surprised by an attack from which it believed itself protected by the cover of Prince Baratowski's advance-guard?
Waldemar summoned up all his self-command. "Who brought the news? Is it trustworthy, or mere report?"
"It was the major domo, Pawlick, who brought it. He is over yonder ..."
"At your house? He brings you the news, though he knows that I have been waiting hours here for his return. Why did he not come up to the Castle?"
Frank's eyes sought the ground once more. "He dared not. Her Highness or the young Countess might have been at the window. They must first be prepared. Pawlick is not alone, Herr Nordeck."
"What has happened?" cried Waldemar, a cold presentiment stealing over him.
"Prince Baratowski has fallen," said the steward, in a low voice. "Pawlick brings the corpse."
Waldemar was silent. He laid his hand over his eyes, and stood for a few seconds motionless; then, collecting himself with an effort, he hurried away over to the manor-farm, Frank following him. At the steward's house, Pawlick met him. He looked up timidly at the lord of Wilicza, whom he, the Princess's faithful servant, had been wont to consider as an enemy; but Nordeck's face showed him what he had already felt that morning, that it was no foe, but his young master's own brother who stood before him, and all the old man's composure broke down at the sight.
"Our Princess!" he wailed; "she will never survive it, nor the young Countess either!"
"You did not reach the Prince in time?" asked Waldemar.