Ragna. Anna Miller Costantini
worried by these moral and spiritual waverings, but never having known anything of the kind herself, was unable to cope with the case. She took a purely material view of the situation. They were now out of mourning, but Ragna seemed to have little taste for society in general, and none for that of young men; she preferred her books, she said, when her aunt rallied her on the subject. Now Fru Boyesen had been at some pains to obtain for her niece a circle of eligible masculine acquaintances; she had made it known that she considered the girl as her adopted daughter and would make her her heiress, and there was no lack of eligible suitors; so when Ragna had sent two of the most desirable firmly but kindly about their business with no better excuse than that they did not happen to be congenial to her, her aunt felt that it was time to interfere.
She would have considered either of them a most desirable husband for her niece—was not young Nansen tall and handsome as well as the only son of wealthy parents? And was not Peter Näss a most estimable young man and well situated to make a wife comfortable and happy? What was Ragna waiting for? A white blackbird?
Ragna threw her arms about her aunt's neck.
"Dear Aunt Gitta, I am so happy with you! I don't want to marry ever, I think!"
"Not want to marry, child? You are crazy! It is a woman's duty to marry and rear children—the Bible says so. Perhaps you think you are in love with some other young man?"
No, Ragna was in love with no one.
"Well then, why did you refuse Ole Nansen?"
"Because I did not love him."
"Oh, stuff and nonsense! Not love him! Very probably you don't, but that is not essential, not one woman in a hundred 'loves' her husband until after she has married him. The important part is that everything else should be suitable. There's nothing you dislike in him, is there?"
"No, Auntie."
Fru Boyesen raised her eyes to Heaven.
"Well, all I can say is, you'll never get such a chance again; young Nansen is a man in a thousand."
"Are you so anxious to be rid of me, Auntie dear?"
"No, of course not, goosie," she kissed the girl affectionately, "but I should like to see you married, in a home of your own. It would be much better for you, I am sure. I don't really approve of this one-sided life you are leading."
"But, Auntie dear, how could I marry a man who takes no interest in my work? These young men are very nice and all that, but we have absolutely nothing in common. I asked Peter Näss the other day what he thought of the Kantian philosophy, and he said he had never thought about it at all. These young men never like to talk about serious subjects and they refuse to take me seriously when I do."
"Ah, Ragna," said the elder woman, "when you have a home and children to look after, you will find that all your philosophy goes to the wall."
"But that is just what I am afraid of, why should I stifle all my higher instincts in a commonplace marriage?"
She had not told her aunt, however, what was the real matter with her. The fact was that try as she might, she could not rid herself of the memory of Prince Mirko and that moonlit crossing of the North Sea. His kiss remained imprinted on her lips and his idealized image on her heart. She mentally compared with him the young men of her acquaintance and weighing them in the balance, found them woefully wanting.
One evening, sitting alone with her in the drawing-room, young Nansen had kissed her—the effect had been electrical. Furiously rubbing her offended cheek, she had reprimanded him in such terms of withering scorn that the poor young man fled, never to call again. Afterwards she was ashamed of her outburst, and analysing her feelings, as she had come to do, was obliged to admit to herself that the cause of her resentment was not the temerity of her suitor, but the fact that he had failed to awake in her an answering thrill. She liked the young man, and her vanity would have been pleased by the marriage, for he was the best "parti" in Christiania, but her conscious womanhood revolted at a loveless union. Was the shadow of a kiss to spoil her life? In vain she reasoned with herself, the unconquerable memory remained; she felt it like an indelible mark on her.
Fru Boyesen in despair at her niece's obstinacy and foolishness, and after many fruitless attempts to bring the girl round to her point of view, finally betook herself to Ragna's old professor, Dr. Tommsen. She laid the case before him and begged him to use his influence with his wayward pupil—she would surely listen to him.
Dr. Tommsen had received Fru Boyesen in his study. He sat, in an old leather-covered armchair between the porcelain stove where a fire was burning, and his large, much belittered writing table, gazing at his visitor in good-humoured perplexity and twiddling his thumbs—a habit of his when not engaged in writing or reading. His spectacles were pushed up on his bulging forehead and his keen grey eyes peered out from under shaggy, grizzled eyebrows, which he had a habit of working up and down in a terrifying manner. His sanctum was not often invaded by ladies, and the presence of a portly dame arrayed in green silk trimmed with bugles and yellow lace and protected by a dead-leaf mantle, and the singularity of her coming to him, a bachelor of well-known eccentricity, in order that her niece should be prevailed upon to enter the bonds of matrimony, appealed to his sense of humour.
Therefore, when Fru Boyesen had finished her elaborate exposition of the case, the Doctor pursed up his lips and his eyes twinkled.
"My dear Madam," he said, "I fail to see how I can be of any assistance to you, I have so little experience in these matters."
"You could advise Ragna, my dear Herr Doctor—she would listen to you. She must be persuaded to take a reasonable view of life."
"Ah, that depends on what one considers a reasonable view," he said judicially, putting the tips of his fingers together. "From my standpoint your niece's objections appear quite reasonable. You may not be aware, my dear lady, though most people are, that theoretically I disapprove of marriage."
"Disapprove of marriage! Oh, Herr Doctor, you can't mean that!" cried Fru Boyesen horrified, feeling the solid ground slipping from beneath her feet, as it were.
"Precisely, Madam—or to be more exact, I disapprove of marriage as now generally practised. I regard it as a social contract, useful to humanity in general, since no better substitute has been found as yet, but I certainly do not consider it an ideal state, and it would be against my avowed principles to urge any young person—much more so one of the 'élite,' among whom I place Ragna—to enter upon a form of contract which I personally consider both futile and degrading—an insult to the intelligence."
This was too much for Fru Boyesen; she gasped angrily, but found herself unable to give articulate utterance to her amazement and indignation. The Professor, his eyes twinkling more and more, pursued in a calm deliberate voice.
"Since you do not answer, I take it that you agree with me in the main—or perhaps your estimation of your niece is not the same as mine?"
"I most certainly do not agree with you, Dr. Tommsen," said Fru Boyesen hotly; "I am a married woman myself, and a respectable one, and I assure you I have found nothing either degrading or futile in the married state. I do not think you should use such words in connection with a divine institution."
"Ah, that is where we differ, dear Madam," returned the Professor, gently rubbing his palms together—it amused him on occasions to tease the conventionally-minded—"You consider it a divine institution and I do not—however that is not the point. I admit that some persons are obviously qualified for matrimony and find their vocation in it—you think your niece to be one of those, I do not."
Fru Boyesen interrupted him.
"But there is where you are wrong, Herr Doctor. Ragna is made for marriage, trust an old woman for that. She is not the girl to be an old maid. I am anxious for that reason—if she lets her best years go by and despises the chances that offer, she will regret it when it is too late. I love her, Herr Doctor, and old women see farther than young ones—I want to see her happy in the way that God intended her to be."
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