Part 5 (1/2)
”I shall carry something of you with me when our ways part,” he said.
Ragna felt much flattered and regretted that her list of accomplishments did not include drawing.
”But,” she said, turning to Angelescu, who had sat a silent spectator, ”you can draw, I am sure, will you not make me a little sketch?”
Angelescu would be delighted; he went to his cabin and returned with sketch book and pencil, and without more ado began work. Ragna wished to look over his shoulder, but he would not hear of it.
”You must be patient till I have finished, Mademoiselle, I am not as accomplished a draughtsman as the Prince, and I could not do anything if you watched me.”
Finally he produced a very pretty little sketch, representing the rail at the stern, with the slender figure of a girl silhouetted against it, one arm flung out in the act of scattering crumbs. The action was spirited, the whole thing suggested by a few clear decisive strokes of the pencil. Ragna was delighted with it and begged leave to inspect the Count's sketch book; he refused in an embarra.s.sed way, and the Prince, seeing an occasion to tease his friend, made as if to s.n.a.t.c.h at the book crying--
”Fie, how can you refuse a lady. What have you drawn that is so very, very naughty that it can't be seen? Out with it!”
As he spoke, his hand touched the book, and in his haste to withdraw it, Angelescu seized the upper cover. The book opened and two loose leaves fluttered out and fell at Ragna's feet. She picked them up to return to him, glancing at them involuntarily as she did so, and her attention was arrested. The first sketch was a portrait of herself, idealized, but an excellent likeness; the other was the Prince, also an admirable likeness, but conveying an impression of evil--not conscious evil, however, rather the face of a faun through whose eyes looked out a laughing fiend. Ragna s.h.i.+vered unconsciously and turned to the Prince, in whose good humoured countenance she failed to detect the slightest expression similar to that in the drawing.
”So,” said Mirko, ”our dear Otto has been exercising his talents at our expense! very clever indeed. The sketch of Mademoiselle is charming, but, my dear fellow, what has induced you to lend my humble features to your conception of the Devil? You flatter me, you do indeed!”
Angelescu visibly annoyed, made answer,
”I am sorry, I did not wish Mademoiselle to see that I had taken the liberty of attempting her likeness without her permission, and I can only beg that she will accept the little sketch as a token that she bears me no ill will. As for the other, Your Highness, it was only an idle fancy of mine, and it is only by accident that it may seem to resemble you.”
Ragna looked at the little sketches thoughtfully and said, ”Count Angelescu, you were wrong in sketching me without my permission, but I will forgive that--especially as you have made me so pretty. As the Prince has some sketches of me, I will let you keep this, if you wish it, and I will keep the other.”
But the Prince would have none of that.
”What, Mademoiselle, you wish to keep me before your eyes as a devil?
Never in the world; I won't have it!”
In the end, Angelescu was persuaded to draw another portrait of the Prince with which to redeem the ”Devil Sketch” which Ragna insisted on holding as hostage until it should be replaced by a better.
More than once, in the course of the afternoon, Angelescu pleaded that he had writing that must be attended to, official papers and reports that must be prepared, but Mirko refused to let him go.
”You can do all that later,” he would say.
Ragna caught Angelescu glancing anxiously at him from time to time, as though suspecting him of some ulterior motive. The aide could hardly insist, however, especially after the episode of the sketches--indeed he had an uneasy feeling that the last word had not been said with regard to them, and that the Prince meant to turn the situation thus created to his own personal advantage. So the afternoon wore on, the Prince keeping the ball of conversation gaily rolling, nothing in his appearance giving the slightest hint that he thought of anything beyond the careless enjoyment of the pa.s.sing hour.
The sun was nearing the horizon as they went below to prepare for dinner. A few light clouds flecked the sky, looking like the fleeces of wandering lambs.
”It will be a perfect evening,” said Mirko, ”and we shall have a full moon.”
Ragna put on the same frock she had worn the evening before--it was her best--but to-night she turned it in a little more at the neck and bosom, and pinned on a piece of lace given her by her mother when she left home. Her skin showed white in the opening and her delicate throat rose from its frame like the stalk of a flower.
The Captain came to the saloon for dinner and sat at the head of the table, having Prince Mirko on his right and Angelescu on his left; Ragna sat by the Prince. All had good appet.i.tes and did full justice to the excellent fare provided.
The Prince had given orders that champagne be served from the very beginning and he made it his care to replenish Ragna's gla.s.s as often as she emptied it.
Captain Petersen, busy with his dinner and in entertaining his distinguished pa.s.sengers to the best of his ability, noticed nothing, but Angelescu's eyes were grave as he observed the girl's flushed cheeks, and unnaturally bright eyes. He even ventured so far as to ask her whether she were fond of champagne, to which she answered innocently that she liked it very much but had never drunk much wine of any kind whatever.
Captain Petersen broke in with his genial roar. ”So you like the champagne, Froken Ragna? So do I! So do I! Not but what a little 'schnapps' in season, has its merits--still I suppose champagne is better for a young lady than 'schnapps'!”