Ragna. Anna Miller Costantini
seemed that he also had some writing to do. Much as he felt inclined to sit down by her, he realized that after what had passed between him and the Prince, it would not be wise for him to appear to devote more time or attention to her than courtesy required. And moreover he felt that it would not be easy for him to remain too long alone with Ragna without falling to a certain extent victim to the charm which she unquestionably exerted.
Ragna therefore spent the long morning between her book and short constitutionals up and down the deck. Part of the time she lay lazily watching the changing cloud shapes, the spray dashing up to catch the sunlight and falling again like a shower of diamonds, the ceaseless march onward of the white crested waves. Leaning on the rail, she followed the churning lines of foam, swirling deep down in the marble like water and rising again to the surface in a lacy pattern of tiny bubbles.
So the time passed until shortly after eleven the Prince appeared followed by Angelescu. They drew up chairs, and after the first salutations were over, Ragna bantered the Prince on his late rising.
"Ah, but my dear young lady," he answered, "you do not know the night I spent. In the first place, your charming image held sleep at bay for hours, and then a less romantic reason kept me awake. My bed was made like a jam-roll, and it did roll—it rolled off three times, and each time I had to get up and put it back."
Ragna laughed; the Norwegian fashion of bed making was one to which she was well accustomed and she had never thought of the effect it might have on a stranger.
"Ah, you may well laugh," continued Mirko, "but if you had seen me taming that wild beast of a bed, and at the same time trying to keep my balance on that see-saw floor you would have wept tears of compassion."
"Crocodile tears, I fear," said Angelescu drily.
"Then they began holy-stoning the deck just as I had fallen asleep, and I had to begin all over again. I am convinced, Mademoiselle, that I was not born to sail the seas!"
Ragna laughed and sparkled; in the clear morning light, the vague distrust and fear of him, which had assailed her the evening before, seemed a ridiculous trick of the imagination and of a piece with her foolish dream. The man was simple, gay and straightforward enough now, in all conscience! His eyes, whose magnetic power had so troubled her the day before, now reflected nothing but merry good humour, as he gave his whimsical account of his night's experiences. He rattled along in a cheerful way, making them all laugh at his nonsense and merry conceits.
Captain Petersen lunched with the party, his jolly red face beaming like a rising sun. Ragna thought she had never laughed so much in all her life. When they had finished she fed the gulls again with the help of the Prince and Angelescu, who vied with each other in seeing who could toss the crumbs farthest. One large gull, an old white fellow, either stronger or more masterful than the others, was getting more than his share; he would wait until another bird had caught a crumb and would then bear down on him, wings spread, legs extended, and with wild squawks oblige the poor thing to drop the coveted morsel, whereupon he would pounce upon it and devour it, only to begin all over again. Ragna pointed him out to the men and the Prince nicknamed him "Napoleon."
It was very pleasant there in the stern. Ragna seated herself on a coil of rope in the shadow of a life-boat, and the men leaned lazily on the rail watching the exploits of "Napoleon." Angelescu had always a certain soldierly stiffness about him from his clear-cut face to his trim feet, suggestive of an uncompromising attitude of mind where honour or principle were involved. Prince Mirko was a picture of lazy, rather feline grace; not to be characterized as effeminate, he yet did not convey an impression of masculine supremacy, in spite of his broad shoulders and the insolent lift of his moustache; his eyes were too large, his hands and feet too small, his hair too silky, the symmetry of his shape too perfect. He looked more like some handsome arrogant animal than a man born to command men—yet there was no denying his distinction, he was undoubtedly a thoroughbred.
Presently they returned to the shade of the awning and the deck chairs, and the Prince drawing a notebook from his pocket, made little sketches of Ragna.
"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 embarrassed way, and the Prince, seeing an occasion to tease his friend, made as if to snatch 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 shivered 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