E. Werner - Under a Charm. Vol. II

"Leo, put a stop to this," said Morynski to his nephew, uneasily. "Vaillant will soon calm down if he hears your voice. Persuade your brother to dismount, or we shall have an accident."

Leo stood by with folded arms, watching the struggle; but he made no attempt to interfere. "I did not hide from Waldemar that the horse is a dangerous one for a stranger to mount," he replied, coldly. "If he purposely goads it into a fury, he must take the consequences. He knows well enough that Vaillant will not stand the whip."

At this moment Waldemar came back. He had retained sufficient control over the reins to force the animal into a given direction, for instead of careering over the lawn they swept round it in a wide circle. Beyond this, all guidance was out of the question. The sorrel still violently resisted the hand which held it in an iron grasp, and tried by unexpected lightning-like darts and plunges to throw its rider; but Nordeck's face showed that the old temper was rising within him. Scarlet to the roots of his hair, with eyes which seemed to emit sparks, and teeth tightly set, he used his whip and spurs in so merciless a manner that Leo grew wild with exasperation. He had looked on composedly at his brother's danger, but this punishment of his favourite was more than he could bear.

"Waldemar, have done," he cried, angrily. "You will ruin the horse for me. We have all seen now that Vaillant will carry you. Let him be."

"I shall teach him obedience first." Waldemar's voice vibrated with passion and excitement. He was past thinking of others now, and Leo's interference had no other effect than to bring down on the horse still more unsparing treatment, as a second time they made the tour of the lawn. At the third round the animal was vanquished. It no longer strove against its rider's will, but moderated into the prescribed pace, and at the first hint from the reins came to a halt before the Castle, completely subdued, it is true, but ready to sink with exhaustion.

Nordeck dismounted. The gentlemen gathered round him, and there was no lack of compliments on his admirable horsemanship, though the spirits of the company were evidently damped. Leo alone said nothing. He stood silent, stroking the trembling, sweating horse, on whose shining brown coat traces of blood were to be seen–so terribly had Waldemar's spurs ploughed his sides.

"That was a trial of strength I never saw equalled," said Count Morynski; but his words were forced. "Vaillant will not so easily forget the day he carried you."

Waldemar had already got the better of his passion. The flush on his brow and the full swollen blue vein on the temple alone bore witness to his inward excitement, as he answered–

"I had to try and deserve Countess Morynska's flattering opinion that I could ride nearly as well as my brother."

Wanda stood by Leo's side, looking as though she had personally suffered a defeat which she was ready to avenge at the peril of her life, so threatening was the blaze of those deep dark eyes.

"I am sorry that my heedless words should have brought down such harsh usage on Vaillant. The noble creature is certainly not accustomed to such treatment."

"Nor I to such resistance," replied Waldemar, sharply. "It is not my fault if Vaillant would not yield to whip and spur. Yield he must, sooner or later."

Leo put an end to the conversation by ordering his groom, in a loud demonstrative manner, to lead the sorrel, which was 'ready to drop,' back to the stables, and there to take all possible care of him, and at once to saddle another horse and bring it round. Count Morynski, fearing an outbreak, went up to his nephew and drew him aside.

"Control yourself, Leo," he said, in a low urgent tone. "Do not appear before all these people with that frowning brow. Do you want to seek a quarrel with your brother?"

"What if I do?" muttered the young Prince. "Has not he exposed me to the ridicule of all the hunt by that ill-timed story of his about Norman? Has not he almost ridden my Vaillant to death? And all for the sake of a miserable boast!"

"Boast? Think what you are saying. It was you who proposed to him to try the horse. He refused at first."

"He wanted to show me and all of us that he is master when a mere display of coarse physical strength is in question. As though any one ever disputed him that! It is the only thing he is capable of! But I tell you, uncle, if he challenges me in this way again, my patience will give way. It would if he were ten times lord of Wilicza."

"No imprudence!" said the Count. "You and Wanda are unfortunately accustomed to subordinate everything to your own personal impressions. I can never obtain from her the smallest concession where this Waldemar is concerned."

"Wanda, at least, can show her dislike openly," grumbled Leo, "whereas I. There he is standing beside his Norman; together they look the very picture of composure and tranquillity, but let any one try to go near either of them!"

The fresh horse was now brought round, and in the general departure which ensued any little unpleasantness caused by the late incident was dissipated. It was, however, fortunate that the proceedings of the day kept the brothers apart, that they were at no time long in each other's company, else, in the exasperated state of Leo's mind, a rupture would have become inevitable. When at length the chase was reached, the love of sport awoke, and, for some hours at least, drove all else into the background.

Waldemar was wrong in his aversion to these 'great gala meets.' They presented a brilliant and beautiful spectacle, especially here at Wilicza, where such fêtes were conducted on a right princely scale. Each forest station was called on to furnish its contingent of men in full gala uniform. The whole woodland district was alive, fairly swarming with foresters and huntsmen; but the most imposing sight of all was the cortége of the hunt itself as it careered along. The gentlemen, for the most part, fine noble-looking figures in well-appointed hunting dress, mounted on slender fiery steeds–the ladies in flowing habits riding by the side of their cavaliers, the servants bringing up the train; then the blast of horns and the baying of hounds. It was a scene all aglow with animation. Soon the stag came flitting by, and shots resounded on all sides, awakening the echoes and announcing the opening of the day's sport.

Now that the fog had lifted, the weather was all that could be wished. It was a cool, somewhat overcast, but fine November day. The stock of deer in the Wilicza chase was considered to be unrivalled, the arrangements were on all points excellent, and the game was most abundant. That every effort should be made to regain what had been lost in the morning was a thing of course. The short autumn afternoon was fast closing in, but no one thought of staying the sport at sight of the first shades of twilight.

Some thousand paces distant from the forester's house, which was to-day to serve as rendezvous, there lay a stretch of meadow, solitary and, as it were, lost in the midst of the encircling thickets. The close undergrowth and the mighty trees which fenced it in, made the spot invisible to all but those who knew where to find it, or who stumbled on it by accident. Now, indeed, that the chill of autumn had in some degree thinned the surrounding foliage, access could be had to it more easily. In the midst of this piece of meadow-land lay a small lake or pond, such as is often to be found in the heart of the woods. During the summer months, with its waving reeds and dreamy water-lilies, it lent to the place a peculiar poetic charm of its own; but now it brooded dark and bare, fading leaves floating on its surface, its brink edged by a circle of brown discoloured grass, autumnally desolate like all its surroundings.

Under one of the trees, which stretched its boughs far out over the meadow, stood Countess Morynska, quite unattended and alone. Her retirement must have been a voluntary one. She could not have accidentally wandered from the hunt, for sounds of the gay party were to be heard distinct enough, though borne over from a distance, and close at hand stood the forester's house, where the young lady must have left her horse. She seemed purposely to have sought, and wishful to preserve, her present solitude. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, she gazed fixedly at the water, and yet plainly saw neither it nor any other feature of the landscape before her. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Wanda's beautiful eyes could take a very sombre look, as was evident at this moment. She appeared to be struggling with some feeling of angry resentment; to judge, however, by the knitting of her white brow and the defiant curl of her lips, this feeling would not allow itself to be so easily mastered, but stood its ground firmly. Farther and farther the hunt receded, taking, as it seemed, the direction towards the river, and leaving this part of the chase quiet and free. Gradually the varied, confused tones died away in the ever-increasing distance; only the dull shots reverberated through the air–then these too ceased, and all became still, still as death, in the forest.