Part 24 (1/2)
Ragna leaned over Estelle's shoulder and gazed apprehensively about; she did not see the face she feared, however, and sank back into her place.
”Surely he would not have the courage to come here--now,” she thought.
He was to have come masked, wearing a tuberose in his b.u.t.ton-hole and carrying one in his left hand. If he should come notwithstanding, what should she do? At least, she thought, her mask was a protection,--there would be no necessity for recognising him.
The door of the box opened and an attache of the Swedish-Norwegian Legation entered, bowing. He was a distant connection of Fru Bjork's, and had come to offer his services to the ladies. His attentions to Astrid had long been joked about by the others, and it may be said that Astrid did not discourage them. ”So convenient to have him about,--besides he is a sort of cousin,” she had said to her Mother, when that lady remonstrated with her on the subject. So Count Lotten was made welcome and Fru Bjork invited him to sup with them. He promptly accepted and set about earning his salt by pointing out such well-known people as he recognised.
As the time pa.s.sed the scene grew livelier, dancers filled the centre of the floor, cutting the most surprising capers, one Pierrot in particular drawing the applause of the spectators by his daring antics. No one seemed to resent the liberties he took, the whisper having gone about that he was the young Prince C---- a spoilt darling of the Roman aristocracy, Count Lotten told the ladies, and Astrid sighed.
”I do wish I knew a prince, if they are like that! It must be awfully amusing.” Ragna's lip curled, but she said nothing.
Supper was being served in the boxes, and presently the waiters laid the table and set out the oysters and gallantine and the other good things Fru Bjork had ordered. Ragna could not eat, but the champagne did her good, and she clinked gla.s.ses with the others and joked in so lively a way as to set Fru Bjork's mind quite at rest on her account. Gaiety was in the air, the merry din became deafening. As the girl looked about she interpreted it to herself. ”Let us eat, drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die!” A feverish excitement seized her; her lips burned and her eyes glittered through the mask, she had unhooked her domino at the neck on account of the heat, and her white throat throbbed in its black frame. Astrid expressed a desire to walk about below and Ragna seconded her--she felt that she must get up and move about, or she must scream.
Count Lotten offered himself as escort.
”It will be quite proper,” he a.s.sured Fru Bjork, ”I shall be responsible for the young ladies' safety,--in half an hour we shall be back here again.”
He told Astrid to take his arm and let Ragna take hers,--”and be sure to stick together.”
Down on the floor they pushed as best they could through the excited, perspiring crowd, laughing, shrieking, gesticulating, mad with the Carnival. Astrid laughed excitedly.
”I should like one turn, just one turn of this valse,” she pleaded.
Lotten smiled down at her.
”But it is impossible, we can't leave Froken Ragna!”
”Oh,” said Ragna, ”please don't stop on my account! I shall stand against the side here, under this box, and be quite safe. You can come back for me here!”
The Count hesitated but the desire for a dance with Astrid overcame his scruples and he acquiesced. Ragna took up her position under the box, as she had said, and Lotten and Astrid whirled past, then were swallowed up in the crowd.
Ragna stood watching the brilliant scene. The noise and the recurrent rhythm of the dance music aroused a certain wildness within her,--the latent savagery hidden in the hearts of all of us. As the tide rose within her she grew defiant and reckless--she had lost that which a girl holds most precious, why should she observe any restraint, had not the bonds of conventionality been snapped for her? Would she not be justified in flinging all constraint to the winds, in giving free rein to the wildest impulses of her nature? ”It's of no use keeping the stable-door locked when the horse is stolen,” she reflected bitterly.
Her foot tapped the floor in time to the music, the whirling crowd fascinated her, drew her as to a vortex, it was a critical moment. ”_He_ had no scruples, why should I have any henceforward?” she asked herself.
”'_Carpe diem_,' he used to say,--well, I say it now and I mean it!” She stepped out from the wall.
Suddenly a band of maskers emerged from the crowd, thrown from it like the spray from the crest of a wave, they surrounded Ragna, holding one another by the hand, forming a chain about her. One of them, a tall man disguised as Mephistopheles, stepped into the ring and the others capered about them, gibbering.
”_Bella mascherina!_” squeaked the Mephisto. Ragna smiled at the challenge and the masker thus encouraged, came close to her.
”_Ti conosco, mascherina!_” he said.
Ragna shook her head laughingly.
”Impossible!”
”What, not recognise the most beautiful mouth in Rome! Gia!” The man's tone was insolent.
”Go away!” said Ragna.
”Don't be rude, _mascherina_! I won't betray you--I can keep a secret as well as anyone!”