"Yes," said Waldemar, gazing absently out of the window, "he is going about New Year's."
"I regret his departure on your account, and all the more from the fact that I am its indirect cause. Frank's excellent management is conceded by all, and it will be difficult to fill his place. His services, however, involve the continual absence of the landlord, for he will submit to no dictation. His subordinates complain bitterly of his imperiousness. I myself have felt aggrieved by it, and have been forced to remind him that Villica Castle and its mistress were not subject to his absolute control. This has led to his resignation. The question now arises, Whose part will you take? I think the superintendent will willingly remain, if you allow him to continue sole master. I, of course, shall submit to your decision."
"I came only last night," returned Waldemar, "and it is impossible for me to fully understand the state of affairs so soon. If Frank wants to leave, I shall not hinder him, and if a misunderstanding with you is the cause of his resignation, I hope that you do not harbor a thought that I would allow the superintendent to prevail against my mother."
The princess felt greatly relieved. She had feared that during Waldemar's brief stay at the superintendent's, some disclosures had been made prejudicial to her interests. The young landlord's manner indicated nothing of the kind. It was evidently a matter of small importance to him whether the superintendent went or stayed, and his native sense of propriety would urge him to take his mother's part without investigation.
"I knew that I could depend upon you, Waldemar," she said, graciously. All was turning out according to her wishes. "But why should we at the outset fall to discussing dry business details, as if there were nothing better at our command? I wished to say-- Ah, come in, Bronislaw," she added, turning to her brother, who stood in the doorway with his daughter.
At these words, Waldemar also turned around. His first emotion in glancing at the young girl who stood opposite him, was profound astonishment. He had known Wanda as a girl of sixteen years,--as a charming child, rather than a woman. This form was new to him; the early promise of uncommon beauty had been more than fulfilled. Wanda's beauty did not lie in regularity of features, which were of the Slavonic rather than of the Greek or Roman type; but the fresh, rosy countenance possessed an indefinable charm that did not consist in perfection of outline, but in expression.
The deep-black hair, not arranged after the reigning mode, but in a fashion of Wanda's own, which displayed its wonderful beauty and luxuriance, set off more strikingly the exceeding fairness of the complexion; but the great charm of this unique face lay, after all, in the eyes,--large, dark, and lustrous, now veiled by their long, silken lashes, now opening wide and full, with an expression changing with every new and varied emotion. These eyes now revealed something more than childish arrogance and mischief. Whether veiled in dreamy repose, or lighted up by glowing enthusiasm, they remained unfathomable and dangerous. They had a spell which could irresistibly ensnare and steadfastly retain, and the young Countess Morynski had often tried this power, of which she was fully conscious.
"Your sudden arrival has surprised us all," the count remarked to Waldemar; "and you found your house full of guests. We intended to leave early this morning, but being informed of your presence here, we remained to greet you."
"Welcome home, Cousin Waldemar!" added Wanda, extending her hand with a charming smile, and with the most graceful ingenuousness.
Waldemar bowed very formally and coldly to his beautiful cousin. He seemed neither to have seen the extended hand nor to have heard the courteous words, for, without making the slightest answer, he turned to Count Morynski.