Ragna, tired out by the long day of new experience, soon fell asleep in her narrow berth. It seemed to her that after a long sleep of which she was dimly conscious she awoke to find herself in a strange country, a wide grass-covered plain running to the foot of low mountains, a rolling plain extending right and left as far as the eye could reach. The sky was heavy with thunder clouds, and against the dark heavens and the grassy knolls and bottoms ran a series of arches—white arches, some broken, some still whole and joined one to the other like an interminable bridge. She was no longer a girl but a hare, running bounding along, and after her ran a greyhound the fleetest of his kind, following her in long easy leaps. It seemed to her that though she was the hare, yet it was as if she stood at a distance and watched the chase, saw the anguished turning and doubling of the hare, saw the greyhound ever nearer and nearer, about to overtake his prey. At last the storm broke, and amid the wild lightnings and the crashing thunder, the end came—one last despairing bound, and Ragna, the hare, felt the pursuer's teeth close in her panting side. With a shriek she sat up in her berth. Above, the sailors were holy-stoning the deck, and the cabin was as she had seen it the night before, her clothes swaying to the motion from the hooks on the wall where she had hung them. Now and again a green wave washed over the closed port-hole.

She flung herself back on her pillow. Drops of perspiration beaded her forehead, and in spite of her wish to laugh at the relief of finding her dream only a dream after all, she was still dominated by the mysterious anguish with which the dream had filled her. Thinking it over, she shuddered and had need to feel the stuff curtain of her berth to assure herself that she was really awake. She looked at her watch; it was not yet six o'clock, but accustomed to the early rising at the Convent, she felt it impossible to fall asleep again, so she rose and performed her toilette, amused by the difficulty of dressing on a floor which swung up and down under her feet sending her staggering to and fro like a drunken man.

In the deserted saloon a steward brought her zwieback and coffee, and after she had eaten she went on deck carrying a handful of bread with which to feed the gulls. She was standing in the stern, looking out over the narrowing foamy wake, and throwing the bits of crust to the hungry birds, watching them wheel and plunge and seize the tempting morsel, while those who caught nothing vented their displeasure in angry squawks, when Captain Petersen joined her. He slyly stole up behind her and pinched her rosy cheek with a "Hey, now, what's our young lady doing about so early? Stealing bread, too! Dear, dear that will never do!"

Ragna turned laughing to meet the mock reproof.

"Well, what do you think of the old man now? Haven't I managed to give you pleasant company for the voyage, little one? A real prince, too, not many would have pulled that off for you! And you know how to keep him entertained!"

He shook his finger at her.

"Don't think that because I was cooped up on the bridge all day, I didn't see anything that was going on, Miss Sly-boots!"

He laughed uproariously, and Ragna glanced apprehensively back over the deck to assure herself that no one was within hearing.

"What did you see, Captain Petersen?" she asked. "I am sure there was nothing extraordinary, and it was you who asked me to entertain His Highness!"

"So I did," roared the Captain, "so I did, and the little Minx must needs set her cap at him as well—and capture him, horse, guns and foot! A little lass just out of a convent at that!"

Ragna was much embarrassed by this well-meaning banter, and in terror lest he should revive the subject in the Prince's presence—if that were to happen she would surely die of shame! "Captain Petersen," she said, "I have never set my cap at anyone, please don't say such things! The Prince is very kind to take any notice of a little girl like me, and he must find me very simple after the ladies he sees in society. Do be good, Captain Petersen, don't tease me again please, I don't like it! I think I will go down now and write some letters and my diary."

Captain Petersen shook with laughter.

"And so it is a child and not a young lady at all, in spite of its long skirts, and it doesn't like to be teased about Princes—and it thinks it will run away and write to be rid of me!"

Then as he saw tears of vexation rise in Ragna's eyes he realized that he had gone too far and like the gentleman he was, hastened to apologize.

"There, there, my dear, forgive an old sea-dog his joke! I meant nothing by it, but if you don't like it we won't say any more. I may be a bit rough and ready, my dear, and I'm not used to turning compliments and dancing on carpets, but I wouldn't hurt you for the world."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, Captain," said Ragna, laying her hand on his blue sleeve and smiling up into his kindly eyes. They stood there a few minutes longer watching the cloud of whirling white and grey gulls, and Ragna threw her last crumbs of bread; then they walked forward and the girl went to the saloon to write her letters, while the Captain returned to the bridge.

In the saloon she found Angelescu just finishing his breakfast. He rose, serviette in hand, as she entered.

"You are up early, Mademoiselle!"

"Oh," she answered, "I have been up for hours; I have been on deck feeding the gulls."

"And now you are going to have some breakfast? Let me call the steward."

"Thank you, Monsieur, I breakfasted before I went on deck. I have come down to write a little. Please don't let me interrupt your breakfast."

As she spoke, she moved over to a small table set across the end of the saloon, and laid upon it her writing case and travelling inkstand.

Angelescu resumed his seat and silence reigned except for the usual noises of the ship and the scratching of Ragna's pen.

The Count having finished his repast went on deck, where he was hailed by Captain Petersen and invited to the bridge, where the good Captain set forth at some length the principles of navigation, and enjoyed himself thoroughly, not often having had the fortune to meet with so considerate a listener; for the Count, though more bored than otherwise by the Captain's disquisition, sprinkled as it was by innumerable technical details, maintained throughout an air of courteous interest. So delighted was Captain Petersen that he actually sent for his private bottle of "schnapps" and insisted on his visitor's partaking thereof to close the interview.

Ragna had settled herself on deck with a rug and a book, and evidently expected Count Angelescu to join her as he descended from the bridge, but he only bowed—it 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 beyond the careless enjoyment of the passing 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 appetites 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 glass as often as she emptied it.

Captain Petersen, busy with his dinner and in entertaining his distinguished passengers 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, FrÖken 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'!"

Angelescu relapsed into silence; if the captain, who was, in a way the girl's guardian, saw nothing amiss, he himself would do no more. To do the Prince justice, he had no thought of making his neighbour take more than was good for her; he had no intention of doing her the slightest harm; he wished to give her pleasure and at the same time to enjoy himself. If in filling her glass he wore a slight air of bravado it was that Angelescu's evident distrust of him and his intentions had stirred up a certain obstinacy within him, and he was possessed by the desire to outrage the would be protector's feelings. Mirko had shrewdly guessed that Angelescu entertained a warmer regard for Ragna than he was willing to admit of to himself; that the assumption of the protector's role might not be wholly the disinterested or rather uninterested attitude that the Count wished it to appear, as that, when at the close of dinner Ragna went to her cabin for a wrap, he drew Angelescu aside and said to him:

"I wish you to understand once and for all, Otto, that I will not tolerate your interference and your silent criticism. It is all very well for you to think that because you are older than I, and because we have always been comrades you have the right to control me. I am your Prince, and you will do well to remember the fact."

Angelescu, his face burning, cut to the quick, saluted and answered stiffly.

"Your Highness shall be obeyed," then turned on his heel; but Mirko called him back, already regretting the sharpness of his tone and language towards his old playmate and faithful friend.

"Hold on, old man, don't take it like that! I didn't mean what I said, at least not all. You seem to think me a sort of villain in disguise, and you arrogate to yourself the responsibility for my conduct in every direction. You sat at table glaring at me as if I were trying to poison Mademoiselle. Now what is the matter with you?"

"I thought that Your Highness did not realize the fact that she is only a child and quite unused to champagne—"

"Did you not hear the Captain?"

"The Captain is a rough old sailor, unused to young girls; I thought—"

"You think too much, Otto. Besides, it's rather new for you to play the part of 'Squire of Dames' to wandering damsels—I believe the root of the matter is that you are in love with the girl, yourself. Why don't you marry her? You could, you know."

"Your Highness knows very well that I am not free to marry," said Angelescu in a low voice, a dark flush spreading over his face. The Prince knew well, as did everyone else, that his aide was bound, and had been for years, to a married woman of high rank, whose unhappy married life had been responsible for the forming of the liaison, and that now time and custom and a quixotic sense of moral obligation continued to bind the unfortunate Angelescu to the lady's chariot wheels, though any feeling he had had for her was long since dead.

Ragna's entrance put a stop to further explanations, and Angelescu excused himself, saying that he must attend to the neglected writing of the afternoon. So the other two were left with the deck to themselves.

It was a perfect evening, the full moon hung low in an almost cloudless sky and the broad silver pathway over the water looked like a carpet laid for a procession of fairies. Ragna hung over the rail in an ecstasy of appreciative joy.

"Oh, isn't it just like Heaven!" she murmured.

"I can't say," answered Mirko, "never having been there, but it would make a good setting for a love scene. Imagine it for a honeymoon!"

"I must answer like Your Highness," laughed Ragna, "never having had a honeymoon I can't very well imagine one."

"Then look at the lovers in the moon."

"Lovers in the moon!"

"What! have you never seen them?"

"I see only the hare, with his two long ears."

"Look again, the lady is on the right, and you see her head in profile, her lover has a beard—there, do you see?"

"No," said Ragna, "I still do not see."

"That is because your eyes have not been opened; when you have had a lover, you will see the Lovers in the moon."

Ragna laughed at the idea.

"Why should having a lover improve one's eyesight?" she asked.

"It will not improve your physical eyes, Mademoiselle, but it will open your spiritual eyes to the world; just now your heart is blind."

To this Ragna found no answer; she stood silent, her face turned up to the moon, still looking vainly for the Lovers. Mirko stood gazing at her tempted by her fairness, her simplicity, and the moonlight.

"Do you realize the delightfulness of this episode?" he asked her abruptly. "It will be like an oasis in the desert to look back on. I should like you to forget this evening, that we are anything but just our two selves; there is no Prince, there is no FrÖken Andersen, we are just you and I and nothing more. Yesterday we met, to-morrow we part, probably for ever, so that there can be no thought of past or future to embarrass us. There is no yesterday and no to-morrow, no time and no limitation of space; we are all the world, we are quite alone and detached from everything, you and I and the moon!"

His eyes were fastened on hers and held them; she could not have moved away had she wished.

She answered in an embarrassed way:

"You wish to stop the hands of the clock for this evening?"

"Exactly—with your help."

The romance of the situation appealed to her.

"The clock has stopped," she announced gravely.

"Thank you," he murmured raising her hand to his lips.

Ragna laughed uneasily; it seemed to her that she was living in some fairy tale.

The Prince led her to a deck chair and drew up another beside it. From where they sat they could see the moon and the light upon the water, but they were screened from the companion-way door, and indeed from most of the deck, by the ventilator of the saloon and the shadow of a life-boat. It was unusually warm for the North Sea, especially for so early in the season, and Ragna found her heavy cloak oppressive.

"Take care you do not get cold," said the Prince as he helped her to loosen the clasp at the neck. The whiteness of her throat seemed like marble in the moonlight. Her hook had caught in her lace collar, and in disentangling it the Prince's fingers brushed her bosom; they gave her a tingling sensation and she started up.

"I beg your pardon," said Mirko; "it was not intentional, but if it had been would you resent it? Where is the harm, are we not friends?"

"Friends," said Ragna, "just friends. You must not do things like that."

"Then give me your hand. Has anyone ever read your palm? No?"

He took her hand lying idly on a fold of her cloak and held it up in the moonlight.

"I cannot see the lines, it is too dark, but your hand is beautiful, so soft, so tapering!"

He drew the tips of his fingers over her palm and had the satisfaction of seeing her shiver. She tried to draw her hand away, but he kept it.

"Ragna, little Ragna, there are many things, I should like to say to you, but I am afraid you would misunderstand me. Do you know what you are? You are the Sleeping Beauty, you are asleep, no one has come yet to wake you; you are waiting for the Prince."

He paused, stroking her hand. His touch seemed to magnetise her, for her hand lay passive within his and she made no effort to withdraw it as he leaned towards her. The music of his voice seemed to hold her enthralled,—perhaps the champagne she had drunk had something to do with it,—she had no volition, her will was asleep.

"Who will the 'Prince' be, Ragna? A fair-haired lover with cold blue eyes, or a Southerner—one who will burn you with his passion, who will reveal to you all the magic of love? Is it not worth everything to feel one's self awake, to live?"

The sense of his physical nearness almost overpowered her and she moved uneasily. Mirko's fingers had crept to her wrist and seemed to burn the tender skin.

"Are you afraid of me, Ragna?" he asked.

She answered that she was not, ashamed that he should think her timid and unsophisticated. If he talked to her in this way, it must be the way of the world, of his world. She felt that none of the men she had known would speak to her as he spoke—but then she could not imagine their doing so, without appearing extremely ridiculous. And then, she reflected the Prince and she were on the open deck,—there could be no harm, so she surrendered herself to the fascination of the moment.

"Ragna," the melodious voice at her ear murmured, "I could teach you so much, so very much that you do not know—so many things that you will never know if you marry one of your cold country men! I would teach you to live, dear, to live and to love; I could make your heart beat and your veins burn; I would hold you hard and fast in my arms,—or quite lightly, and under my caresses you would live—oh, Ragna, to see the light of Life in your sea-blue eyes, to feel your red lips learn to kiss, to feel your beautiful body quiver, as you learned the mystery of Love!"

In reality he had lost his head, he had let himself be led on by his passionate fancy,—at first only a playful desire to flatter the girl, to lead her on to graceful flirtation, but his hot blood had got the better of him, and as he proceeded, the voluptuous image called up by his words inflamed his senses and lost him to all sense of restraint or prudence. He seized the girl, for Ragna, dazed, intoxicated and fascinated by his daring speech, and by the magnetic suggestion of his desire, opposed no resistance to his encircling arms. He drew her to him, and covered her neck and bosom with burning kisses. She gasped half fainting, then he took her mouth, and her eyes opened wide at the revelation of a sensation the like of which she had never imagined.

But with the revelation came the awakening; with a frantic effort she broke from him and stumbled to the rail. The action brought him to himself and to a sense of shame.

"Oh, Ragna," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "What have I done! Pardon me! It was too much for me, your beauty, having you there, so near me! Ragna, speak to me, tell me that you forgive me!"

He moved towards her, but seeing her shrink away from him, he stopped. Ragna put out a trembling hand, and with a shaking voice said:

"Oh, why did you! Oh, you have spoiled it all!"

She turned to the rail, and hiding her face in her hands began to cry.

Mirko was really touched and concerned. He had no idea that a girl could take a kiss so seriously, it gave him the measure of her innocence. He came to her side and putting his hand on her shoulders tried to console her with awkward phrases, but she still sobbed on. At last he began to be annoyed and said rather sharply:

"What are you weeping so about anyway? Your life is not ruined, I have kissed you, but I have apologized—I would never have done so if I had known you would take it like this!"

Ragna looked up, bewilderment on her face. What! He could take it so lightly! Then it was not so terrible after all? The poor child had felt herself dishonoured for ever.

"But you will despise me for letting you kiss me!"

He was quick to seize the advantage.

"Despise you? Never in the world! What a little goose you are! What harm is there in a kiss? And don't worry about it, I took it without your consent—but you liked it—come now, be honest and admit that! I know you liked it, I felt it!"

He stopped, seeing that he was going too far. Ragna had turned away from him, her face burning. It was quite true, too true, she had felt herself respond. What right had she to be indignant, since she must acknowledge to herself that she had not resisted him, that she had not wished to.

His low vibrant voice continued:

"And one thing you can never change, never drive from your memory,—I have had your first kiss; you will never forget that. No woman ever forgets her first kiss, or her first lover:—"

He paused hearing footsteps approaching over the deck, and stepped to the girl's side.

"Someone is coming," he said; "for God's sake pull yourself together and remember that a kiss is not a crime. Come now, tell me you forgive me, quick!" His voice had an imperious note, and Ragna yielded to it; she turned to him, tears still shining on her long lashes in the moonlight.

"There, you do forgive me, it is understood?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"Pull your cloak up about your shoulders and hook it," he ordered and she obeyed.

The footsteps had by now made the tour of the deck and were approaching the sheltered nook; they rang loud in the silence. It was Captain Petersen and as he hove in sight, his cheerful voice woke the echoes:

"So here I find them as snug as you please! Well, well, a moonlight night and the deck of a good ship, and a pair of young folk to profit by it all—what more could one want?"

Mirko engaged him in conversation, and Ragna thus had time to steady her voice and regain control over her excited nerves. The effort was good for her, and she was glad of the Captain's arrival. So was the Prince, for the good man's coming tided over an awkward moment, as the "voyage de retour" is bound to be—however short the journey may have been.

"To-morrow, our journey together will be over," said the Captain. "To-morrow morning you will wake at Christiansand, after that little Ragna and I go on to Molde alone—if we pick up no other passengers. I am sorry Your Highness leaves us so soon—if ever you should wish a cruise in northern waters, the old Norje and I are at your service, Prince!"

"Thank you, Captain Petersen," said Mirko, "I have enjoyed this little trip exceedingly, thanks to your kind attentions and to Mademoiselle, and I wish I might promise to renew it in the near future—but I am not entirely my own master, you know."

Presently the Captain remarked that it was growing late, and Ragna, rising, said she would go to bed. The Captain wished her a hearty, if gruff "Good-night," but Mirko walked with her to the companion-way, and after kissing her hand, held it while he murmured in a low voice:

"You will never forget this evening, nor shall I—dear!"

With a final pressure he released her hand and Ragna went slowly down.

Captain Petersen grumbled to himself as he watched them.

"Pity the fellow is a Prince. Handsome couple they would make, handsome couple! After all, who knows, little Ragna is as pretty as a princess—he might do worse!"

Prince Mirko returned to him fumbling vainly in his pockets.

"Have you a match about you, Captain?" he asked, "I must have left my box below."

On a former occasion he had offered the Captain a cigarette from his case, but the old sea-dog had refused it, explaining that he would get no good out of a little paper stick, a pipe was the thing for him.

The Captain produced a box of matches and the Prince lit his cigarette. Seeing him disinclined for further conversation, the old sailor left him, and Mirko, leaning both elbows on the rail enjoyed his smoke while he reviewed the events of the evening. In his innermost heart he was a little ashamed of having given way to an impulse but then, he reflected complacently, there was no real harm done, and after all, what is a kiss? He was rather amazed at himself for giving the slightest importance to the occurrence. His thoughts turned again to Ragna.

"What a little witch it is, and as unsophisticated as a newborn babe; pretty, too, much too pretty, in the moonlight!" The fresh taste of her mouth came back to him, like a strawberry, just ripe, he thought, and the throbbing of her firm young bosom, as he had pressed her to him. What a mistress she would make! Then he laughed at himself—"What! take a mistress, a mere school girl at that, from the bosom of a respectable bourgeoise family! What a row there would be! No, my son," he admonished himself, "that game is not worth the candle!" He remembered too well the trouble subsequent to his latest escapade of the sort, and made a wry face. "No, no more luring of innocent maidens from their happy homes!" He thought of Ragna going to bed in her little cabin, and a wild desire came over him to follow her. The recollection of the kiss he had given her suddenly maddened him. His pulses beat strongly and rang in his ears. He must have her, he felt, must have her in spite of everything and he started towards the companion-way, but before he reached it shame seized him, and thrusting his hands savagely into his greatcoat pockets he strode up and down the deck, fighting the impulse.

"Am I lost to all sense of decency?" he murmured, "What has come over me?"

He walked until he was tired out, then went below and locked himself into his state-room.

Ragna, as soon as she reached her cabin, took down the oil lamp from its swinging bracket and carrying it to the small mirror studied her face. Was this creature with gleaming eyes, rosy cheeks, red mouth and loosened hair the prim little Ragna of but a few hours since? This looked more like the head of some young Bacchante, wine flushed and triumphant. Indeed the "Princess" slept no longer, the spell was broken and Ragna knew it. She replaced the lamp and undressed slowly, her thoughts running tumultuous riot. She was astonished at finding herself neither indignant nor ashamed—all that had passed. It seemed to her that she had entered upon a new life, a door had opened upon a heretofore unknown country, and many things came into perspective, that she had not understood before. She had crossed the dividing line, she was no longer a child, Eve had tasted of the apple.

As she lay in her berth some of the Prince's sayings came into her mind, "an oasis in the desert," "there is no to-morrow and no yesterday," and for the moment she hugged the thought, little dreaming how insidious it was to prove. Who was to tell her that some day Eve's apple would prove to be an Apple of Sodom? Carpe diem was the Prince's avowed motto, and was she already a convert and had she forgotten her own answer, "Somebody has to bear the consequences"? She was too young though, to realise that every act, no matter how insignificant, how detached apparently from the main trend of life, has far-reaching consequences, cropping out when we least expect them, bearing in their wake the most extraordinary changes.

How was she to know that the kiss on deck in the moonlight bore in it the seed of her future life. Her lips burned, and she felt, in imagination, the pressure of Mirko's arms about her,—but at the same time she was curiously conscious that this was not love, or not yet. She felt, but could not define the distinction. Still she was not ashamed, being still borne up by the wave of elemental impulse; she had no room as yet for introspection and self blame—indeed they might never come. The timid, untried girl of yesterday had vanished, a new, passionate Ragna had taken her place.