"Of course he will not!" said Margaret, with great positiveness; "the government has too much good sense to promote him."
CHAPTER XIII.
[THE YOUNG LANDLORD'S RETURN.]
It was noonday. The festivities at the castle had been continued until a late hour, and the greater number of the guests had remained over night. Count Morynski and his daughter tarried after all the others had left, as politeness required that they should stay to welcome the young landlord. The count's acquaintance with his nephew was so slight that he cut short his first greetings and congratulations, and Wanda felt that she had no right to assert the claims of relationship with one whom she had so deeply and so justly offended.
The princess was alone with her two sons; she sat upon a sofa in the green drawing-room; Waldemar occupied a seat opposite her, and Leo stood leaning over the back of his brother's chair. They seemed an affectionate, harmonious family group.
"No, Waldemar, I cannot forgive you," said the mother, in a half reproachful tone; "it was unpardonable in you to go first to the superintendent's house, as if your own castle was not at any moment open to you; as if it would not have given me pleasure to introduce you to my guests! I cannot accept the pretext that your sudden intrusion might have disconcerted me or the company."
"Then let my disinclination to enter a circle of strangers be a sufficient reason."
"Do you still indulge your old antipathy for society? We must then see less company at Villica."
"Do not change your mode of life on my account, I implore you. But you must excuse me if I do not often appear in your drawing-room. I have in some measure learned to adapt myself to social requirements, but I am never at my ease in large companies."
The princess smiled. Waldemar's unsocial disposition harmonized perfectly with her wishes. She saw that, in spite of the outward improvement these years of culture and travel had made in her eldest son, his nature remained fundamentally the same, and that his exterior had undergone no great transformation. His tall figure, towering above that of Leo, who was also above the average height, was no longer awkward and ungainly; the immaturity of boyhood had given place to a ripe, vigorous manhood. The plain, irregular features had won a grave, self-contained expression; the sudden bursts of passion which had once disfigured them were no longer visible. The blonde hair--"that tawny, yellow mane," as Wanda had been wont to call it--no longer fell in disordered masses over the forehead; it was always carefully arranged, and parted back from the handsome, commanding brow that arched over the deep-blue eyes, whose usual glance was sombre, but which, when lighted up by some momentary excitement or enthusiasm, glowed with a strange lustre, and transfigured the whole face. This broad, high forehead, these deep, earnest eyes, were the only beauty nature had bestowed upon this rugged face, and they had come to the young man through his Polish lineage. But although Waldemar Nordeck had seen much of the world, although the old diffidence and uncouthness had vanished, although his mind was enlarged and improved by years of study and travel, he was no drawing-room knight, no man to win hearts by grace of person or fascination of manner. There was a reserve and distance in his bearing which repelled intimate acquaintance, and forbade anything like familiarity.