Part 13 (2/2)
She nodded affirmatively.
”What shall I say? That I am glad? But that would be selfish--poor unfortunate man that you have not married!” He laughed easily.
Ragna smiled; his playful a.s.sumption of comrades.h.i.+p put her at her ease; the ice was broken, it was a tacit resumption of their friendly relation before the far away evening of the kiss. Perhaps he had forgotten that episode, his cheerful friendliness of manner gave no intimation of any such recollection, and Ragna felt gladly a.s.sured that such was the case.
The thought completed her composure, and she replied,
”But neither have you married, Your--”
”No! No!” he interrupted, ”don't call me that! In the first place I am here incognito, and then I have always liked to think that to at least one charming person in the world, I am just myself, just 'Mirko.' We were comrades on the s.h.i.+p--let us begin again where we left off--shall we?”
Her eyes interrogated him intently, but she still saw no sign of an embarra.s.sing memory, so she allowed herself to smile. In point of fact, he had no distinct recollection of those days on the _Norje_, nor of their ending; many new faces had come between, in the intervening years.
He merely remembered Ragna as a charming child who had helped while away the hours on the little steamer, and the finding of her here in Rome was a windfall, when he most needed distraction. His eye followed approvingly the slightly more developed curves of her figure and the s.h.i.+ning ripples of her hair. He had been to Monte Carlo and luck had been against him, even to his father's hearing of the escapade, and it had been intimated to him that a month or so of rustication incognito before coming home, in order to give the paternal wrath time to cool, would materially aid in the restoration of peace. Ragna's emotion at his sudden appearance laid a flattering unction to his soul; her northern, and to him, unusual beauty attracted him newly, and he said to himself,
”Unlucky at cards, lucky in love--_chi lo sa?_”
”Let us move on,” he said to Ragna, ”we are attracting attention as well as stopping the way. You will let me walk with you, and you shall tell me how it is you happen to be here.”
Ragna found herself walking beside him as in a dream. In reply to his questions she told him of her journey to Italy with Fru Bjork and Astrid; she described Froken Hagerup and her peculiarities, to his great amus.e.m.e.nt. Something in him seemed to draw out the wit and humour in her--or perhaps it was the excitement of the unexpected meeting,--in any case she talked to him as she had never talked to anyone in her life.
So they walked on until they reached the Piazza del Popolo, and Ragna looking at her watch found, to her horror and surprise, that it was half-past twelve.
”And I never heard the midday gun!” she exclaimed.
The large square was deserted; a beggar or two sat eating in the sun by the fountains. Even the busy Corso seemed empty.
”I must hurry home at once,” said Ragna, turning swiftly.
”It is a long walk,--why go back? Why not celebrate our reunion by lunching with me?” suggested Mirko.
”Oh, no!” she shook her head, ”that would never do! They would all be anxious about me if I did not turn up--and think what Fru Bjork would say when she heard I had been lunching with a young man!”
”But why should she hear of it? You can say you have been sight-seeing, too far away for you to get back in time. Make any excuse you like, but do be good! Come!” His voice was like that of a spoilt child begging for a new toy.
”Astrid knows I'm not sight-seeing to-day. I told her before I went out.”
He observed that she appeared not to resent the idea of a mild deception--or was it that she wished to ignore the suggestion?
”You are afraid of me!” he said teasingly. ”Believe me, I am not an ogre!”
She rose at once to the bait.
”Afraid? Why should I be afraid? I say 'no' because it is impossible.”
Her tone was final.
Mirko laughed.
”'When a woman won't, she won't, and there's an end on't!'” he quoted.
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