"Is he dead?"
"No; but he is severely wounded, and in the hands of the enemy."
Waldemar had always been estranged from his uncle, but he knew how tenderly and passionately Wanda loved her father. If he had fallen in battle, she could have borne it better than to know that he was wounded, suffering, and a prisoner in the hands of his enemies. Who was responsible for the defeat of the corps which should have been protected from an attack in the rear by the detachment of Prince Zulieski?
Waldemar summoned all his self-control. "Who brought you this news?" he asked. "Is it reliable?"
"Paul brought it," replied the superintendent. "He is over yonder--"
"And why does he bring you tidings, when he knows that I have been for hours anxiously awaiting his return? Why does he not come to the castle?"
The superintendent's eyes again sought the floor. "He could not venture--the princess or the young countess might have come to the window; they must be prepared for evil tidings. Paul is not alone, Herr Nordeck--"
"What has happened? My brother--"
"Prince Zulieski has fallen. Paul brings the corpse--"
Waldemar was speechless. A great blow had fallen upon him, depriving him, for the instant, of sense and motion. All was dark around him; for some moments he covered his eyes with his hands, then he roused himself by a powerful effort, and hastened to the superintendent's house. Paul came to meet him, gazing timidly into the face of the man he had been taught to regard as an enemy, but the sorrow depicted there plainly told him that the brother of his young master, weighed down by a sorrow greater even than his own, stood before him. The old man's self-control gave way.