Читать книгу Ragna - Anna Miller Costantini - Страница 6

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So the time passed and the end of the second year came; Astrid was to remain at the Convent another twelve-month, but Ragna must return home.

With tears in her eyes she packed her boxes and took leave of the Sisters and her companions. She had begged in vain for another year—even six months, but her father was obdurate. He had made arrangements with a friend of his, a sea-captain, to fetch her in Paris and take her to Norway in his vessel. All was decided and Ragna must go.

She felt a strange shrinking from the journey and in later days came to regard as a premonition what was probably only reluctance to face the busy outside world after so many months of seclusion. Certain it is that with heavy heart and red eyes she left the Convent, and Captain Petersen was much concerned by the dolorous appearance of his charge.

"You look more like a virgin martyr being led to the stake than a pretty young lady just let out of her cage into the world!" he told her. "Bless my soul, if I wouldn't want to shake a loose leg after being mewed up so long!"

He was a stout, red-faced man with merry blue eyes, and a red fringe of beard round his face like a misplaced halo. There was nothing saintly about him, however, though he was a thoroughly good and honest man.

"Cheer up!" he adjured Ragna, "the sea-breezes will soon blow the cobwebs out of your brain and the colour into your cheeks—besides," he added with a jovial wink, "I've a surprise up my sleeve for you—a surprise most young ladies would give their eyes for!"

"What is it?" she asked for politeness' sake.

"It will keep! It will keep!" he answered delightedly.

He enlivened the long railway journey to the best of his ability, with a constant stream of jokes and stories at which he chuckled heartily in default of a more appreciative audience. He plied the girl with sweets and fruit, little flasks of wine and biscuits. He was so unfailing in his good-humoured and kindly attentions that she could not help but respond and presently was laughing with him as merrily as possible. He insisted on calling her "Fröken" pretending to stand in great awe of her long skirts, chignon and "young-ladyfied" manners. He teased her by constant references to his "surprise," but refused to tell her of what it consisted, so that her curiosity was thoroughly aroused and her eagerness to penetrate the mystery was only equalled by his pleasure at the success of his diplomacy.

So they journeyed to Hamburg, and Ragna forgot to regret her convent-life in the whirl of new sights and sensations. Captain Petersen found time, in spite of his other occupations, to take her boating up the Alster and to the theatre. She slept in her cabin, on the small steamer, and amused herself when the Captain was busy, by wandering through the city, visiting the market-place, the churches, or on the harbour and river in the small steamboats plying ceaselessly to and fro.

The Norje was to sail four days after their arrival in Hamburg. Much preparation was being made on board, unusual, even to Ragna's unaccustomed eyes—the state-rooms were being freshened and made ready, and the steward was laying in stores of chickens, fruit and other delicacies. Evidently some distinguished passengers were expected.

At last the day came, the sailing was fixed for noon, and Captain Petersen, watch in hand, stood on deck, by the gangway, looking expectantly up the wharf. Ragna, sitting aft under the awning, a book in her hand, could not keep her eyes from straying in the same direction, though she did her best to disguise her curiosity, for Captain Petersen, true to his word, had remained adamant to her enquiries and coaxings, and she wished him now to believe that she did not care so very much for his old "surprise" after all. Hence the book and the carefully detached attitude.

Down on the wharf there was a slight commotion; two carriages had stopped, and servants and porters were hastening to and fro. Ragna saw a young man step from the first carriage, followed by another man, slightly older. Both had the military bearing and both were handsome, but the first had the air of one accustomed to precedence, and his somewhat petulant orders and gestures found instant response and acquiescence on the part of his companion. They were too far away for Ragna to catch their speech, though the sound of their voices reached her, and she wondered what language they might be using; Norwegian was out of the question; Swedish and Danish equally so; German it could not be for their appearance was anything but German—but neither did they look like Englishmen nor Frenchmen nor Russians, nor in fact anyone she had ever seen.

Meanwhile Captain Petersen had hastened down the gang-plank and cap in hand was bowing clumsily to the younger man and escorting him deferentially to the ship. As they passed up the gang-plank to the deck, the young man raised his head and his eyes met Ragna's, as leaning over the rail quite forgetful of herself, in her interested surmising, she gazed down at him. Her hat, tipped back and only held by the dark blue ribbon tied under her chin, left her hair uncovered, and the mass of gleaming braids and curls caught and reflected the sunlight; her blue eyes shaded by dark lashes looked down from out the shadow of her hair, clear, wondering and free from self-consciousness; her mouth, rather large but well-shaped and red as that of a child, too red for the Scandinavian fairness of her skin, was smiling, the lips just parted.

So their eyes met, his, large, dark, burning, different from any she had ever seen, held hers a moment, then he raised his hat and passed on, as Ragna withdrew, a flush she could not understand rising in her cheeks. One moment only, but while his eyes held hers she had felt a curious sensation, a sort of magnetic thrill drawing her to him, and as long as he looked at her she could not have withdrawn her eyes, nor lowered her lids.

It had lasted but a second, but that second, though she did not know it, was the turning point of her life.

Captain Petersen, preceding the young man had seen nothing, he was still murmuring disconnected phrases of greeting—"Most highly honoured! Such condescension! Entirely at Your Highness's disposal." As they reached the deck, the Captain stood aside to give passage to "His Highness" disclosing to view the deck, with Ragna who had retreated to a chair at some distance, and as His Highness stepped to the deck, his eyes followed the Captain's to the girl; then he raised them in inquiry to Petersen's face. The latter with a sweeping gesture and a voice unconsciously raised to quarter-deck tones answered the unspoken question.

"A fellow-passenger, Your Highness, the daughter of an old friend who I am bringing back from school. She speaks French like a Russian—Will Your Highness permit?" His Highness graciously permitted and they walked over to Ragna who rose to her feet annoyed by the blushes which came in spite of her, under the young stranger's scrutiny. Captain Petersen chuckling at her embarrassment addressed her in his genial roar:

"Ragna, His Royal Highness, Prince Mirko of Montegria has permitted me to present you, and I make you responsible for his entertainment during the trip. Didn't I tell you I had a surprise for you that would take your breath away? You can begin at once; I'm no carpet-knight, and managing this ship is about enough for me. Her name is Andersen, Your Highness, Fröken Ragna Andersen—and with your kind permission—" someone hailed him and he bustled away.

The servants were coming on board, directing the stewards with the luggage and the Prince's companion had already gone below to arrange the details of the installation.

Ragna had made her curtsey and stood in silent embarrassment until Prince Mirko broke the ice by saying smilingly:

"A kind Fate evidently presides over my destiny—but Captain Petersen was wrong in preparing you for a surprise; he should have warned me of the pleasure in store for me."

Then seeing how unsophisticated the girl was, and that his complimentary phrase only added to her confusion, he put her quite at her ease by making an ordinary remark or two about the weather, followed by a few questions as to her life in the Convent and the journey to Hamburg. They were still talking, standing by the rail, when the young man who had accompanied Prince Mirko in the carriage, approached and stopped within a few paces of them.

"Oh," said the Prince, "Mademoiselle, let me present my friend and aide-de-camp, Count Angelescu. What is it, Otto?"

"Captain Petersen wishes to know if Your Highness will have luncheon served in your state-room, or if you will eat in the saloon. There are no other passengers beside your party and this young lady."

"The saloon, by all means, Otto, and tell the Captain I hope he will join us, as well as Mademoiselle, if she will do us the honour!"—He looked at Ragna who bowed.

Count Angelescu also bowed and withdrew—he had bowed to Ragna, bringing his heels together with a click, when his Prince presented him, but had seemed to give her no further attention. In reality he had observed her closely and her frank expression and fresh youthfulness pleased him. Ragna's impression of him was equally favourable; she liked his bronzed soldierly face, with the grave eyes and the firm mouth under the dark moustache. He must be thirty or over, she thought, the Prince could not be more than twenty-four or five.

The sailors had lowered the gang-plank and were casting off the hawsers which held the steamer to the wharf. A wheezy donkey-engine was lowering boxes and bales through the forward hatch; on the river side a small puffing tug was slowly warping the Norje into midstream. Ragna and the Prince could hear Captain Petersen on the bridge, now calling orders through the tube to the engine room, now bawling through his speaking-trumpet. His round face looked like an overgrown peony and Ragna said so, to her companion's amusement.

"Is that the botany they teach you in Paris?" he asked.

"Oh," she answered, laughing gayly, "Paris is a place where one learns many things!"

"Even in a Convent?"

"Even in a Convent."

He shot a stealthy glance at her from under dropped lids—the girl was thoroughly innocent, there could be no doubt as to that. A smile twitched his moustache—the things Paris had taught him were not subjects usually included in the curriculum of a girls' school, and the piquancy of the contrast between his experience of la Villa Lumière and that of Ragna amused him. He stood idly watching her—her face interested him, not from its prettiness alone—she was at the same time more and less than pretty. It was no doll's face, the cheek-bones were too high and prominent for the canons of perfect beauty, the mouth too large and the forehead too high, but there was an indescribable charm he did not seek to analyse—enough that it should be perceptible. He felt instinctively that though childlike in her mind Ragna was no fool, and that it would amuse him to draw her out. So he led her on to express her opinions on various subjects grave and gay, such as came up in their desultory conversation.

The announcement of luncheon, by means of a cracked gong, was no interruption for the Captain excused himself on the ground that his presence was required on the bridge, and Count Angelescu barely joined in the conversation from time to time in response to a direct appeal from the Prince or from Ragna.

The girl had lost all trace of shyness and was enjoying herself heartily in the highest of spirits, and Prince Mirko seemed more like a school-boy on a holiday than the heir to a kingdom on a diplomatic mission. He explained to Ragna that he was on his way to Stockholm, and from there to St. Petersburg.

"But," he said, "that is all so appallingly serious that I am cutting capers while I may—I often cut them when I should not, don't I, Otto? And old 'Long face' there, tries to keep me in order; old 'Long face' does not approve of me now!" he laughed.

Count Angelescu did not reply, nor did he even smile at the sally; he was not at all pleased by the rate at which the camaraderie between the Prince and Ragna was progressing. He knew his Prince for a "coureur de cotillons" and scented danger from afar. "Fortunately we land the day after to-morrow," he thought. Two days is a short time, but much can happen in them.

Ragna had listened, astonished by the bantering challenge.

"Why," she exclaimed, "Your Highness, can you be kept in order?"

The naïve question so pleased the Prince that he roared with laughter, as did also Count Angelescu who answered her.

"No, Mademoiselle, he can't, and that's the worst of it! I do my best; it's no use; I advise you to beware of him, he's dangerous."

"Now, Otto, none of that! I won't have you making me out an ogre. I assure you," he said, turning to Ragna, "that I am warranted neither to bite nor scratch. Do I really look terrible?"

"No, indeed," she laughed, looking him in the eyes, "I am not afraid of you!"

"Ah, Mademoiselle," said Angelescu, "it is when one thinks one's self safest that one is generally in the greatest danger. I was never so sure of myself as the day I fell hopelessly in love; I had the folly to think myself woman-proof, you see, and I fell!"

"So you are married, then," said Ragna.

"No, for after all she would have none of me!"

They all joined in a laugh at this, and Ragna said: "Your sermon loses its point, oh Preacher!"

So the luncheon-hour passed amid jest and laughter and they strolled out to the deck where comfortable chairs awaited them under the canvas awning. The Norje was passing the islands of the Elbe—the Vierländer, and Prince Mirko made much fun of the quaint dress of the peasant women with their awkward hats, stiff ribbons and clumsy petticoats.

Ragna described to him the dress of the women about her home, and was led on to talk of the many ancient customs of the country people, now fallen into disuse, such as the duel with daggers, both men bound together with the same leather belt, and of other contests, bloodless ones these, when two or more men vied with each other in improvising verse, often carrying it on far into the night. She told of the bear-hunts, of the strange tales of returning whalers, of her Uncle Olaf and his phantom ship, and of her fancy of seeing him in the storm.

As she talked, the men smoked; Count Angelescu watched her, charmed by her fresh young voice and the expressive play of her features. He thought to himself: "No, my dear friend this is no game for you. St. Petersburg will furnish you with adversaries worthy of your steel, save your efforts for them—this little girl is too good for you," and he made up his mind not to leave the Prince alone with Ragna, more than was unavoidable. Speaking to the Prince himself would do no good, very possibly it might put ideas into his head that he had not heretofore consciously entertained—or might crystallize the mere intent to please into obstinate purpose of conquest. Angelescu was thoroughly determined in his own mind that no harm should come to Ragna which he could prevent.

Prince Mirko, on his part, was listening to her chatter, the picture of lazy enjoyment, his graceful figure reclining easily in his deck-chair. He played with his cigarette while watching her with narrowed eyes. He noted the graceful poise of her head, the gleam of her heavy hair, the fresh colour coming and going under her transparent skin, the rounded contours of her slender figure, but it was her mouth that fascinated him most, sinuous, sensitive and red—too red.

"Good Lord," he reflected, "what a temperament the girl must have! I wonder what kind of a man will get her? Her husband—or lover, will be a lucky man. I shouldn't object myself, to playing Pygmalion to her Galatea." He fell to imagining what she would be like when the crude innocence of her eyes should give way to a depth of passionate feeling, when the barely perceptible circles under them should widen and darken, and her mouth—that luscious, voluptuous, childish mouth should take a man's kisses and return them. He thrilled at the thought, then pulled himself together ashamed at the direction his thoughts had taken. "You fool," he said to himself, "can't you leave that child alone? I really believe Otto was not far wrong in warning her against me—I'll show him he's wrong though, I'm not as bad as that! I may be a bit of a Don Juan, but I'm not a mangeur de petits enfants!"

He rose to throw his cigarette-butt over the side and lighting a fresh one strolled up and down the deck, watching the shores slip by.

Captain Petersen at that moment joined them and his presence amalgamated the discordant unities of the group. Ragna had felt, without understanding it, a sort of moral tension during the last few moments, and though the Prince's abrupt rising had relieved it, there persisted an uncomfortable undercurrent of conflicting influences. Captain Petersen's cheery red face and jovial manner came like a rush of fresh air into an overheated room. He indicated the various points of interest as they steamed by and regretted that they would pass Heligoland after dark.

"If it keeps clear, we shall see it by moonlight though," he promised them.

Ragna sought her cabin early on the plea of getting ready for dinner, and contrary to her custom spent much time over her toilette, trying her hair this way and that, and passing in review her not too extensive wardrobe. She had awakened to a sense of coquetry; she was newly conscious of a deliberate desire to please.

When she had finished she viewed with dissatisfaction the image her glass reflected: her hair seemed to her much too formal and school-girlish in its arrangement, yet had she known it, the severe lines of burnished plaits suited her small, well-shaped head and the crude youthful curves of face and slender neck far better than any more elaborate style. Her dark-blue frock opening in a point at the throat and leaving the fore-arms bare, seemed suddenly to her newborn critical sense too childish and plain—and again it suited her perfectly, throwing into relief the whiteness of her skin and the fairness of her hair, the lack of frill and furbelow emphasizing the slender waist and the rounded slimness of hip and breast. And she longed for trained ringlets and lace flounces.

Dinner was not as pleasant a meal, she thought, as luncheon; the Prince was silent, almost moody, and conversation languished.

Count Angelescu, quick to perceive the change in his Prince's manner, and as quickly guessing the cause, did his best to second so worthy a resolve by making an effort to keep up a conversation on indifferent topics and to engage Ragna's attention and interest. He was not much of a conversationalist, however, and quite unused to the society of young girls. In his part of the world girls were rarely, if ever, seen in society and the stories and small talk adapted to the married women of his acquaintance were certainly not of a type suited to present circumstances.

Ragna was disappointed; she took the Prince's bad humour for a touch of hauteur and suspected him of regretting having unbent in her society. So piqued and hurt she made no effort to second Angelescu's efforts. She ate little and refused wine until champagne was brought and Prince Mirko insisted upon filling her glass. He had been secretly amused by his aide's laborious attempts at entertainment and Ragna's very evident chagrin at his aloofness flattered his vanity. In spite of his resolution to maintain a barrier of formality between them he could not resist the temptation of making her face resume its former sunny expression. Raising his glass in which the bubbles were winking merrily he said: "Let us drink, Otto, to the health of Mademoiselle, who has turned the desert of a Norwegian ship into a garden for us!"

Ragna looked up, blushing and smiling; they both touched their glasses to hers and drank.

"Now Mademoiselle, you must answer the toast!"

"I? Oh, never!" she cried in confusion. "I have never answered a toast in my life. I don't know how!" Then recovering herself, "You may answer it for me if you like."

"Shall I?" he asked. "Very well then, I rise, lady and gentleman—no I don't, I sit down," as a lurch of the ship threw him back into his chair and spilt half the contents of his glass—"I sit then, as the elements won't permit of my standing, to thank you for the toast just drunk, and to propose in return our newborn friendship!"

They all drank to that.

"There," said Mirko, "that is better; we have set the seal on our present relation. The Present with a capital P. is always the best life has to offer. Yesterday is dead and to-morrow is in darkness: to-day only we live. Carpe diem was the motto of the Ancients and it is mine!"

"Oh, no, not of all the Ancients," objected Ragna quickly, horrified at the Pagan irresponsibility of the thought, "the Stoics did not live for the pleasure of the hour, they taught themselves to forego pleasure. I think it is nobler to deny one's self," she added timidly.

"Deny one's self? What for?" demanded the Prince. "Why should I deny myself anything for the sake of others' pleasure? Am I not as good as they? And besides if I deny myself it only makes them selfish. To be really altruistic I should indulge myself on every occasion with the object of cultivating a beautiful unselfishness in others—that would be true self-sacrifice"—He stopped, laughing at the extreme bewilderment of the girl's face. She had lived entirely among serious-minded people, devoid of a sense of humour, and was unused to hear what were, to her, serious matters bandied about as subjects for jest; she rejoined gravely:

"You say, 'live only for the day,' but there is a to-morrow—someone must always bear the consequences, it can't keep on being just 'to-day' however much we may wish it."

The remark was characteristic of her, and she was one on whom life's to-morrows would fall heavily. Angelescu came to her assistance.

"Mademoiselle refuses to accept the sophistry of Your Highness's arguments," he said smiling. "Sophistry, why it is the simple truth, and the Epicureans are your true Stoics. Carpe diem! Let us drink to carpe diem!"

"Not I," said Ragna.

"Very well then, Mademoiselle la Stoique—but I shall make it my business to convert you. Let us then drink to the health of our noble selves. What do you say, in Norwegian, when you drink a health?"

"Skaal," said Ragna.

"Skaal, then," said both men raising their glasses and looking at Ragna, who half timidly raised hers to her lips, then put it down again—and Prince Mirko added under his breath as he drained his glass,

"And to your conversion, my dear."

On deck, a fresh breeze was blowing, and Ragna bound a long scarf over her head and wrapped her travelling-cloak well about her. Accompanied by the two men she paced briskly up and down the deck inhaling joyfully the strong sea air.

"Let us try the other side," she said presently, and they turned forward of the wheel-house: At the turn the wind caught the long ends of her scarf and wound them about the Prince's neck; they paused to disentangle the soft silken thing, Prince Mirko's hands delaying rather than hastening the process, when a lurch of the vessel flung Ragna against him. He steadied himself with one arm against the deck-house and with the other supported the girl, holding her firm young body close to his. He held her but a moment more than was needful, but in that moment, pressed close to him, his moustache brushing her cheek, she felt a repetition of the same thrill, half attraction, half fear, which had come over her the first time their eyes met. It was over in an instant and they were running down the deck before the wind, but Ragna felt a new and strange constraint upon her which did not wear off as the evening advanced.

She waited up long enough to see Heligoland rising up dark and forbidding on the starboard side in the half-light of the moon. The cloud-wrack behind, seemed like the wings of some monster bird of prey about to swoop down upon the island, crouching to repel the attack. As she watched, a cloud passed over the moon and a jagged line of lightning cleft the darkening mass on the horizon. The flash lasted but the fraction of a second, but she had seen a ship carrying full sail silhouetted against the storm-cloud. The ship stood out for an instant in wonderful relief, every spar and rope clear-cut against the sombre background, then was swallowed up into the night.

"It is Uncle Olaf," thought Ragna. "He has come to warn me—but of what?"

She turned to Angelescu, leaning on the rail beside her.

"Did you see the ship?"

"The ship! What ship? When?"

"Just over there, against that black cloud in the lightning flash."

As she spoke the lightning flared again but revealed nothing.

"You see there is no ship, Mademoiselle," said Angelescu, "and landsman though I be, I know that she would show some lights if she were there."

"Then," said Ragna in a low voice, "the sign is not for you—it was the ship of my Uncle Olaf."

"What are you talking about so earnestly?" asked Prince Mirko, joining them. He had been lighting a cigarette in the shelter of the companion-way. His tone was suspicious, he thought that Angelescu might have been warning the girl against him. The mere fact that he suspected such a contingency and resented it, was proof patent that his good resolution of the afternoon had fallen into abeyance.

During the brief moment when he had held her in his arms, had felt her heart beating under his hand and the stray locks of her hair blowing across his face, his pulse had given a leap, and had it not been for Angelescu's restraining presence, he would have kissed her.

Angelescu hastened to reassure him:

"Mademoiselle has seen the phantom ship of her phantom uncle—I have not, which proves that my spiritual vision is defective."

Ragna laughed.

"Should I be able to see your family ghost, I wonder?" she queried.

"What makes you think I have a family ghost, Mademoiselle?"

"Everyone has them—you, the Prince—oh, everyone!"

"If you mean a private, particular ghost, Mademoiselle, every man or woman has one after a certain age. Sometimes it is the ghost of the 'has been,' sometimes of the 'what might have been,' and sometimes of both. But you are too young for that sort of ghost—and I pray you may never have a worse one than your Uncle Olaf's."

"Oh, stow all that nonsense about ghosts," said the Prince testily. "Why should you fill up a poor girl's head with that sort of thing? Will you not walk again, Mademoiselle, and let the wind blow all these cobwebs away?"

But Ragna refused; it was late, she said, four bells had just struck, and it was time for bed. The men strolled over to the companion-way with her and each kissed her hand. Angelescu brushed it respectfully with his moustache, but the Prince set his lips upon it and the burning seal of his mouth sent a current through her veins. She snatched her hand away and fled to her cabin.

The men walked slowly up and down the lee-side of the deck, the swinging lamp grotesquely lengthening and broadening their shadows as they passed under its feeble ray.

"Otto," said the Prince suddenly, "what do you think of the girl? Is she as innocent as she appears?"

"I think," rejoined Angelescu, weighing every word, "that she is entirely too good a girl to play with and fling away. Anyone can see that she is nothing but a child at heart, and a man who can't marry her has no business to wake her up."

"Which means me? Well, calm yourself, good Otto, calm yourself, the fair maiden runs no danger that I know of. I have no foul intentions on her virtue! A little fun does no one any harm—What makes you such an old fogy any way, damn you? I don't recognize you in the role of St. Anthony, nor myself either for the matter of that!" he chuckled reminiscently.

"Your Highness knows," answered Angelescu, "that I am no saint, and I don't mind a bit of a game myself, when there is any sport in it, but in this case it would be entirely too one-sided. Wait till you find someone who knows the rules of the game—there's no glory in turning the heads of boarding-school misses!" He puffed disgustedly at his cigarette which had gone out, then threw it away and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"You're right, old man; that's the worst of you, fidus Achates, you're always right in the main—but I think this time you are just a little bit off the track. Have I not already declared my intention of respecting virtuous innocence? What more would you have? And if I throw in a lesson or two, just a kindergarten lesson in the gentle art of flirtation, what harm is there?"

Angelescu shrugged his shoulders and moved away. He knew better than to prolong a useless discussion, and he knew equally well from experience what the Prince might consider as legitimately included in his "kindergarten of flirtation." Judging from his own impression of Ragna and of the capabilities of her temperament once aroused, he realized the danger to her peace of mind which would inevitably follow the merest spark of sense awakening. "There would be the devil to pay," he thought and as before reflected that fortunately the time was short.