Winter still held undisputed sway. Forest and forest-house lay wrapped in snow, and the dim light of a gray, cloudy sky fell around the chill, desolate landscape. The forester and his men, numbering three or four assistants and as many servants, were gathered in a large room upon the ground-floor. They were all armed, and were awaiting the landlord's arrival. Waldemar had ordered the forester, Osiecki, and his men to depart quietly from the place, but appearances did not indicate an intention to obey. The lowering faces of the subordinates boded nothing good, and the forester's aspect was that of a man capable of any act of desperation. These men, who had passed their lives in the solitude of the forest, were little disposed to law and order, and their leader was known as one who placed but slight restraint upon his lawless, passionate nature.
They all maintained a respectful attitude at this moment, for the young Countess Morynski stood before them. She had thrown back her cloak, and her pale, beautiful face bore no traces of the agonized conflict through which she had just passed. Its ruling expression was a stern, cold gravity.
"You have led us into an unfortunate position, Osiecki," she said. "Instead of seeking to avert suspicion from this quarter, you provoke collision with the patrols, and you imperil us all by your indiscretion. My aunt is displeased with you, and I come to forbid your again committing any act of violence against any person whomsoever."
The reproof did not fail of its effect. The forester cast down his eyes, and his voice had an apologetic tone, as, with mingled defiance and penitence, he answered,--
"What is done cannot be helped; I could restrain neither my men nor myself. You do not know what it is to remain inactive here upon the frontier, while every day there is fighting over yonder,--to be obliged to endure the presence of these domineering soldiers, and not dare to act, even when we have loaded muskets in our hands. I do not think our patience will hold out much longer; we lost it entirely day before yesterday. If I did not know that we were needed here, I should long ago have been with the army. Prince Zulieski is stationed only a few miles from here--we can easily find our way to him."
"You must remain," said Wanda, resolutely. "You know my father's orders. This forester's place must be retained at all hazards, and you can do more for us here than you could in battle. Prince Leo has men enough under his command. But now to the main point: Herr Nordeck is coming here to-day."
"Yes," replied the forester, jeeringly; "he says that he will enforce obedience. He orders us to Villica Castle, where he can watch us constantly, and lay his finger upon us at any moment. Nordeck can command, but the question is, Shall we obey? If he intends driving us away from here, he will have to call a whole regiment of soldiers to his aid; otherwise, things may end worse than he imagines."
"What do you mean?" asked the young countess; "do you forget that Waldemar Nordeck is the son of your mistress?"
"Prince Leo Zulieski is her son and our master," broke out the forester. "It is a shame for the princess and all of us to be ruled by this German, just because his father twenty odd years ago intruded here, and compelled the young Countess Morynski to marry him. The marriage brought her misery enough, but the son is even worse than his father. We know the life they lead together; she really would not mourn his loss any more than she did the loss of his father, and his death would be the best thing that could happen. Then there would be no need of issuing secret commands from the castle; the princess would rule, and our young prince would be the heir and the future master of Villica, as he ought to be."
Wanda turned pale. The unhappy strife between this mother and son had gone so far that the tenants on the estate were deliberately estimating the advantages Waldemar's death would bring to his nearest relatives--that they even counted upon the forgiveness of the princess for his assassination! Wanda's worst fears were confirmed, but she knew that she dared not betray her anxiety by word or manner. She was respected here as the daughter of Count Morynski, as the niece of the princess, and she was supposed to speak in the name of the latter. If her purpose in coming should be discovered, her authority and her ability to protect Waldemar would end.