Part 3 (1/2)
Ragna described to him the dress of the women about her home, and was led on to talk of the many ancient customs of the country people, now fallen into disuse, such as the duel with daggers, both men bound together with the same leather belt, and of other contests, bloodless ones these, when two or more men vied with each other in improvising verse, often carrying it on far into the night. She told of the bear-hunts, of the strange tales of returning whalers, of her Uncle Olaf and his phantom s.h.i.+p, and of her fancy of seeing him in the storm.
As she talked, the men smoked; Count Angelescu watched her, charmed by her fresh young voice and the expressive play of her features. He thought to himself: ”No, my dear friend this is no game for you. St.
Petersburg will furnish you with adversaries worthy of your steel, save your efforts for them--this little girl is too good for you,” and he made up his mind not to leave the Prince alone with Ragna, more than was unavoidable. Speaking to the Prince himself would do no good, very possibly it might put ideas into his head that he had not heretofore consciously entertained--or might crystallize the mere intent to please into obstinate purpose of conquest. Angelescu was thoroughly determined in his own mind that no harm should come to Ragna which he could prevent.
Prince Mirko, on his part, was listening to her chatter, the picture of lazy enjoyment, his graceful figure reclining easily in his deck-chair.
He played with his cigarette while watching her with narrowed eyes. He noted the graceful poise of her head, the gleam of her heavy hair, the fresh colour coming and going under her transparent skin, the rounded contours of her slender figure, but it was her mouth that fascinated him most, sinuous, sensitive and red--too red.
”Good Lord,” he reflected, ”what a temperament the girl must have! I wonder what kind of a man will get her? Her husband--or lover, will be a lucky man. I shouldn't object myself, to playing Pygmalion to her Galatea.” He fell to imagining what she would be like when the crude innocence of her eyes should give way to a depth of pa.s.sionate feeling, when the barely perceptible circles under them should widen and darken, and her mouth--that luscious, voluptuous, childish mouth should take a man's kisses and return them. He thrilled at the thought, then pulled himself together ashamed at the direction his thoughts had taken. ”You fool,” he said to himself, ”can't you leave that child alone? I really believe Otto was not far wrong in warning her against me--I'll show him he's wrong though, I'm not as bad as that! I may be a bit of a Don Juan, but I'm not a _mangeur de pet.i.ts enfants_!”
He rose to throw his cigarette-b.u.t.t over the side and lighting a fresh one strolled up and down the deck, watching the sh.o.r.es slip by.
Captain Petersen at that moment joined them and his presence amalgamated the discordant unities of the group. Ragna had felt, without understanding it, a sort of moral tension during the last few moments, and though the Prince's abrupt rising had relieved it, there persisted an uncomfortable undercurrent of conflicting influences. Captain Petersen's cheery red face and jovial manner came like a rush of fresh air into an overheated room. He indicated the various points of interest as they steamed by and regretted that they would pa.s.s Heligoland after dark.
”If it keeps clear, we shall see it by moonlight though,” he promised them.
Ragna sought her cabin early on the plea of getting ready for dinner, and contrary to her custom spent much time over her toilette, trying her hair this way and that, and pa.s.sing in review her not too extensive wardrobe. She had awakened to a sense of coquetry; she was newly conscious of a deliberate desire to please.
When she had finished she viewed with dissatisfaction the image her gla.s.s reflected: her hair seemed to her much too formal and school-girlish in its arrangement, yet had she known it, the severe lines of burnished plaits suited her small, well-shaped head and the crude youthful curves of face and slender neck far better than any more elaborate style. Her dark-blue frock opening in a point at the throat and leaving the fore-arms bare, seemed suddenly to her newborn critical sense too childish and plain--and again it suited her perfectly, throwing into relief the whiteness of her skin and the fairness of her hair, the lack of frill and furbelow emphasizing the slender waist and the rounded slimness of hip and breast. And she longed for trained ringlets and lace flounces.
Dinner was not as pleasant a meal, she thought, as luncheon; the Prince was silent, almost moody, and conversation languished.
Count Angelescu, quick to perceive the change in his Prince's manner, and as quickly guessing the cause, did his best to second so worthy a resolve by making an effort to keep up a conversation on indifferent topics and to engage Ragna's attention and interest. He was not much of a conversationalist, however, and quite unused to the society of young girls. In his part of the world girls were rarely, if ever, seen in society and the stories and small talk adapted to the married women of his acquaintance were certainly not of a type suited to present circ.u.mstances.
Ragna was disappointed; she took the Prince's bad humour for a touch of hauteur and suspected him of regretting having unbent in her society. So piqued and hurt she made no effort to second Angelescu's efforts. She ate little and refused wine until champagne was brought and Prince Mirko insisted upon filling her gla.s.s. He had been secretly amused by his aide's laborious attempts at entertainment and Ragna's very evident chagrin at his aloofness flattered his vanity. In spite of his resolution to maintain a barrier of formality between them he could not resist the temptation of making her face resume its former sunny expression. Raising his gla.s.s in which the bubbles were winking merrily he said: ”Let us drink, Otto, to the health of Mademoiselle, who has turned the desert of a Norwegian s.h.i.+p into a garden for us!”
Ragna looked up, blus.h.i.+ng and smiling; they both touched their gla.s.ses to hers and drank.
”Now Mademoiselle, you must answer the toast!”
”I? Oh, never!” she cried in confusion. ”I have never answered a toast in my life. I don't know how!” Then recovering herself, ”You may answer it for me if you like.”
”Shall I?” he asked. ”Very well then, I rise, lady and gentleman--no I don't, I sit down,” as a lurch of the s.h.i.+p threw him back into his chair and spilt half the contents of his gla.s.s--”I sit then, as the elements won't permit of my standing, to thank you for the toast just drunk, and to propose in return our newborn friends.h.i.+p!”
They all drank to that.
”There,” said Mirko, ”that is better; we have set the seal on our present relation. The Present with a capital P. is always the best life has to offer. Yesterday is dead and to-morrow is in darkness: to-day only we live. _Carpe diem_ was the motto of the Ancients and it is mine!”
”Oh, no, not of all the Ancients,” objected Ragna quickly, horrified at the Pagan irresponsibility of the thought, ”the Stoics did not live for the pleasure of the hour, they taught themselves to forego pleasure. I think it is n.o.bler to deny one's self,” she added timidly.
”Deny one's self? What for?” demanded the Prince. ”Why should I deny myself anything for the sake of others' pleasure? Am I not as good as they? And besides if I deny myself it only makes them selfish. To be really altruistic I should indulge myself on every occasion with the object of cultivating a beautiful unselfishness in others--that would be true self-sacrifice”--He stopped, laughing at the extreme bewilderment of the girl's face. She had lived entirely among serious-minded people, devoid of a sense of humour, and was unused to hear what were, to her, serious matters bandied about as subjects for jest; she rejoined gravely:
”You say, 'live only for the day,' but there is a to-morrow--someone must always bear the consequences, it can't keep on being just 'to-day'
however much we may wish it.”
The remark was characteristic of her, and she was one on whom life's to-morrows would fall heavily. Angelescu came to her a.s.sistance.
”Mademoiselle refuses to accept the sophistry of Your Highness's arguments,” he said smiling. ”Sophistry, why it is the simple truth, and the Epicureans are your true Stoics. _Carpe diem!_ Let us drink to _carpe diem_!”
”Not I,” said Ragna.