"Never fear for him!" replied the mother, confidently. "He has positive orders not to leave his post, and he will obey. But what does he write to you? His letter to me is brief and hasty, yours seems longer."
"It contains very little," replied Wanda, with apparent displeasure; "very little of importance to us who must remain here inactive and in suspense. Leo prefers to write me about his love; he finds time in the midst of a bloody conflict to torment himself and me with his jealousy."
"That is a strange reproach from the lips of an affianced bride!" returned the princess, sharply. "Any other girl would be proud and happy to be the centre of her lover's thoughts at a time like this."
"Leo is engaged in a life-and-death struggle. I demand deeds from him, not vows of constancy."
The mother's brow grew dark. "Now that my son has at last the opportunity, deeds will not be wanting. Do you think coldness and taciturnity are essential to the performance of great deeds?"
Wanda rose and walked to the window. She knew the purport of her aunt's words, but she could not and would not expose herself to the gaze of those penetrating eyes which rested pitilessly upon her face as if they would discover the most secret emotions of her heart. In her dealings with her niece, the princess acted upon the discovery she had made in Waldemar. She had alluded to it but once; she considered repetitions useless and dangerous, and yet the conviction that she was subjected to constant surveillance, that her every word and look was carefully noted and inwardly commented upon, robbed Wanda of all freedom in intercourse with her aunt.
"We are likely to have fighting near the boundary in a few days," resumed the princess. "Villica might be of great advantage to us,--but what is it now?"
Wanda turned and fixed her dark eyes upon her aunt. "I know the necessity that detains you in Villica," she said; "but I could not submit to it. I would make any sacrifice rather than live day after day in determined opposition, as you and Waldemar live."
"We two are the only ones who could endure such a life," returned the princess, with bitter irony. "I confess, Wanda, that your judgment of Waldemar was correct; the conflict with him is more obstinate than I had anticipated. Instead of wearying him, I am myself on the point of yielding; he is more than a match for me."
"He is your own son," replied Wanda; "you always forget that."