Wanda did not stir, she only kept her place more resolutely; she knew that Waldemar, if left alone, must succumb, that his only chance of escape lay in her remaining close at his side. They would not like to harm her, but the moment was near when even this forbearance would end.
"Stand aside, Countess Morynski!" cried the forester's voice, rising above the tumult; "stand aside, or I shall hit you too."
He levelled his rifle. Wanda saw his finger on the lock, she saw his face distorted by fury and hatred, and her self-control vanished. Her mind harbored only one lucid thought--Waldemar's peril,--and as a last resort she threw herself upon his breast, and shielded him with her trembling form.
It was too late; the forester fired, and the next instant Waldemar's revolver answered. With a hollow cry, Osiecki threw up his arms and fell lifeless on the floor. Waldemar's ball had hit its mark with terrible accuracy, but he himself stood upright, and Wanda with him. The movement she had made in trying to shield him had drawn him out of the range of the overseer's deadly shot, and had saved both him and her.
All this had occurred so quickly that none of the men had taken part in the murderous affray. It seemed that in one and the same moment they had seen Wanda throw herself on Waldemar's breast, their leader lying on the ground, and the landlord confronting them ready for a second shot. A deathlike silence of some moments followed; no one moved.
Immediately after the firing, Waldemar stationed himself before Wanda. He comprehended the situation at a glance. The door was blockaded, six loaded muskets opposed his single weapon. If the firing should be renewed and Wanda attempt to shield him, both would be lost. An effectual defence was out of the question. Courage even to rashness alone could avail.
Summoning his whole resolution, he threw himself into the midst of his assailants; his tall figure towered above them all, and his infuriated glance flamed down upon the cowards who sought to assassinate him.
"Put down your guns!" he cried, in a loud, imperious voice. "I tolerate no rebellion upon my estates. The first man who has attempted it lies there; the next will share his fate. Down with your arms, I say!"
The men stood as if paralyzed, and stared speechless at their master. They hated him, they were in revolt against him, and he had just shot their leader. To avenge Osiecki's fall would be their next and most natural step. They had intended to attack Waldemar, but as he strode among them and with his bare hand thrust aside their weapons, they recoiled before him. That old habit of blind obedience, which, without asking any reason, submits to all commands, asserted itself; it was the instinctive submission of inferior natures to a superior. They trembled, and shrunk back from these flaming eyes which they had long since learned to fear,--from this threatening, commanding brow. The forester's never-failing ball had passed by this man harmlessly, and he lay dead upon the floor, shot through the heart. The men cowered back with a sort of superstitious dread. The levelled guns were gradually lowered, the circle around the landlord grew wider; he had passed unharmed through this great peril--he had parried six weapons with one.
Waldemar approached Wanda, and taking her arm, drew her gently to his side. "Out of our way!" he said to the men, in a commanding tone; "make room for us!"