CHAPTER VI.
[A TRANSFORMATION.]
Weeks had passed; the summer was drawing to a close, and the harvest at Altenhof was unusually abundant. Herr Witold, who had been out in the fields the whole forenoon overseeing his workmen, had returned to the house faint and weary, intending to take a much-needed and well-earned rest. While making the needful preparations, his glance fell upon his foster-son, who stood at the window in riding-costume, awaiting the appearance of his horse.
"Are you really going to C---- in the heat of the day?" he asked, in mingled surprise and anger. "You will get sun-struck in that two hours' ride over a shadeless road. You seem unable to exist without visiting your mother at least three or four times a week."
The young man frowned. "I cannot go contrary to my mother's wishes when she asks to see me," he said. "Since we are so near, she has a right to demand frequent visits from me."
"Well, she is making good use of her authority. Still, I should like to know how she has managed to make an obedient son of you. I have been trying it in vain for nearly twenty years; she succeeded in a single day. But she always did understand governing pretty thoroughly."
"Uncle Witold, you know better than any one else that I allow no one to rule me," Waldemar replied, angrily. "My mother has met me with overtures of reconciliation which I can not and will not reject, as you have done ever since I was under your guardianship."
"No doubt they frequently tell you over there that you have attained your majority. You emphasize this fact a great deal of late; but there is no need of it, my boy. You have always had your own way, and often sorely against my will. Your becoming of age is a mere matter of form, so far as I am concerned, but it is a thing of more consequence to your princess-mother. She knows perfectly well what she is about, and this is why she is constantly reminding you that you are your own master."
"Why these everlasting suspicions? Shall I give up all intercourse with my relatives simply because you do not like them?"
"I wish you could put the affection of your clear relatives to the test," rejoined Witold. "They would not make such an ado over you if you were not master of Villica. Now don't fly into a passion! We have disputed so much of late about this matter, that I won't have my noon nap disturbed by it to-day. Your precious relatives will soon leave C----, and then we shall be rid of the whole pack."