He knew Lato well, the paralyzing weakness, as well as the subtile refinement, of his nature. Stern principle, a strict sense of duty, he lacked: how could it be otherwise, with such early training as had been his? Instead, however, he possessed an innate sense of moral beauty which must save him from moral degradation.

"A young girl, one of his home circle!" Harry murmured to himself. "No, it is inconceivable! And, yet, what can come of it?" And a sobbing breeze, carrying with it the scent of languid roses from whose cups it had drunk up the dew, rustled among the thirsty branches overhead with a sound that seemed to the young fellow like the chuckle of an exultant fiend.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ZDENA TO THE RESCUE.

But Harry ceases to muse, for the shrill clang of the bell summons him to supper. He finds the entire family a.s.sembled in the dining-room when he enters. All are laughing and talking, even Zdena, who is allowing handsome, precocious Vladimir to make love to her after more and more startling fashion. She informs Harry that Vips has just made her a proposal of marriage, which disparity of age alone prevents her from accepting, for in fact she is devoted to the lad.

"I renounce you from a sense of duty, Vips," she a.s.sures the young gentleman, gently pa.s.sing her delicate forefinger over his smooth brown cheek, whereupon Vips flushes up and exclaims,--

"If you won't have me, at least promise me that I shall be best man at your wedding!"

Harry laughs heartily. "What an alternative! Either bridegroom or best man!"

"But you will promise me, Zdena, won't you?" the boy persists.

"It depends upon whom I marry," Zdena replies, with dignity. "The bridegroom will have a word to say upon the subject." As she speaks, her eyes encounter Harry's; she drops them instantly, her cheeks flush, and she pauses in confusion.

As she takes her place at table, she finds a letter beside her plate, post-marked Bayreuth, and sealed with a huge coat-of-arms. Evidently startled, she slips it into her pocket unopened.

"From whom?" asks Heda, whose curiosity is always on the alert.

"From--from Bayreuth."

"From Aunt Rosa?"

Zdena makes no reply.

"From Wenkendorf?" Harry asks, crossly.

The blood rushes to her cheeks. "Yes," she murmurs.

"How interesting!" Heda exclaims. "I really should like to hear his views as to the musical mysteries in Bayreuth. Read the letter aloud to us."

"Oh, it is sure to be tiresome," Zdena replies, heaping her plate with potatoes in her confusion.

"I wish you a good appet.i.te!" Vladimir exclaims.

Zdena looks in dismay at the potatoes piled upon her plate.

"At least open the letter," says Heda.

"Open it, pray!" Harry repeats.

Mechanically Zdena obeys, breaks the seal, and hastily looks through the letter. Her cheeks grow redder and redder, her hands tremble.

"Come, read it to us."

Instead of complying, Zdena puts the doc.u.ment in her pocket again, and murmurs, much embarra.s.sed, "There--there is nothing in it about Bayreuth."

"Ah, secrets!" Heda says, maliciously.

Zdena makes no reply, but gazes in desperation at the mound of potatoes on her plate. It never decreases in the least during the entire meal.

Jealousy, which has slept for a while in Harry's breast, springs to life again. One is not a Leskjewitsch for nothing. So she keeps up a correspondence with Wenkendorf! Ah! he may be deceived in her. Why was she so confused at the first sight of the letter? and why did she hide it away so hastily? Who knows?--she may be trifling with her old adorer, holding him in reserve as it were, because she has not quite decided as to her future. Who--who can be trusted, if that fair, angelic face can mask such guile?

Countess Zriny, as amiable and benevolent as ever,--Vips calls her "syrup diluted with holy water,"--notices that something has occurred to annoy the others, and attempts to change their train of thought.

"How is your dog, my dear Harry?" she asks her nephew across the table.

"Very ill," the young officer replies, curtly.

"Indeed? Oh, how sad! What is the matter with him?"

"I wish I knew. He drags his legs, his tail droops, and he has fever. I cannot help thinking that some one has thrown a stone at him, and I cannot imagine who could have been guilty of such cruelty."

"Poor Hector! 'Tis all up with him; he has no appet.i.te," Vips murmurs.

"How do you know that?" Harry turns sharply upon the lad.

"I took him a piece of bread this afternoon," stammers Vips.

"Indeed?" Harry bursts forth. "Do that again and you shall suffer for it. I strictly forbade you to go near the dog!" Then, turning to the others, he explains: "I had to have the dog chained up, out of regard for the servants' nonsensical fears!"

"But, Harry," Vips begins, coaxingly, after a while, "if I must not go near the dog you ought not to have so much to do with him. You went to him several times to-day."

"That's very different; he is used to me," Harry sternly replies to his brother, who is looking at him with eyes full of anxious affection. "I have to see to him, since all the a.s.ses of servants, beginning with that old fool Blasius, are afraid of the poor brute. Moreover, he has everything now that he needs."

Vips knits his brows thoughtfully and shakes his head.

Suddenly the door of the dining-room opens, and old Blasius appears, pale as ashes, and trembling in every limb.

"What is the matter?" Harry asks, springing up.

"Herr Baron, I----" the old man stammers.

"What is the matter?"

"I told the Herr Baron how it would be," the old man declares, with the whimsical self-a.s.sertion which so often mingles with distress in the announcement of some misfortune: "Hector has gone mad."

"Nonsense! what do you know about hydrophobia? Let the dog alone!"

Harry shouts, stamping his foot.

"He has broken his chain."