"But could you not love a man, who for love of you carried you away from all the world and made you his by force? I think you would--every woman is really a Sabine at heart!"

Ragna was spared the necessity of answering by the carriage drawing up at the entrance to the Colosseum.

"Shall we keep him?" asked Mirko, as he helped her to alight.

"No! no. Let us walk back."

Mirko dismissed the vetturino, who with much cracking of his whip, made his way to the nearest osteria there to drink the health of the mad forestieri who would risk any sort of "malanno" to see an old ruin by moonlight.

The moon rode high in the heavens and the great building stood out clear and sharp in the silvery light, the inky shadows seemed pregnant with mystery. Ragna almost looked to see the ghosts of martyrs in horrid procession, threading the gloomy archways. A shadow in the arena seemed a pool of blood. Above, in the tribunes, bloodthirsty mult.i.tudes had watched, breathless, the matchless show,--and well might the Vestal-virgins cover their faces, of what avail the fate deciding thumb when maidens and lions meet in the amphitheatre?

"Is it not wonderful?" asked Mirko.

"Wonderful, but horrible," said Ragna, "if ghosts walk anywhere on earth, surely they must walk here! Think of all these walls have looked down on!"

"Yes, the Games, the glorious Games!" he replied eagerly. "Oh, to have seen it in its pomp and pride! Think of it, Ragna,--the people, the colours in the sunlight, the purple velarium up there against the sky, the Caesar, the Senate, the Vestals,--and the gladiators in the ring!"

"I was thinking of the martyrs," said Ragna.

"Oh, the martyrs! Poor fools! After all it was their own fault."

His slight sneer grated on the girl's mood.

"They were glorious," she said indignantly, "they had the courage of their convictions. They proved their strength,--they were stronger than Caesar, stronger than Rome,--their death was their victory!"

Her eyes shone, and Mirko, looking at her face upturned in the moonlight, thought he had never seen her so beautiful, transfigured as she was, by her enthusiasm.

"Would you have the courage of your convictions?" he asked suddenly.

"I--I don't know. Which convictions, for instance?"

"Well, if you did not believe in marriage, would you have the courage to override public opinion?"

"But I do believe in marriage," she said simply.

"Do you believe that love can be bound with a chain, then?"

"There should be no question of binding--A marriage without love is no marriage at all in my eyes."

He smiled at her earnest simplicity.

"That is all very well--for you," he said, "but for me? I may not marry to please myself."

His voice had a caressing cadence, charged with regret, his eyes were mournful under the long lashes. Perhaps for the moment he was really a victim to self pity. Like most emotional people, he was apt to believe in the sincerity of a pa.s.sing feeling, even the appropriate pose of the hour investing him with a fleeting reality of sentiment.

"No," said Ragna, "that is true. You cannot be free to follow your heart, it is part of the price you must pay."

"The price is heavy."

They stood silent a time, then Mirko spoke again in a deep voice.

"I love you, Ragna, you know it--you must have seen it. I did not mean to tell you, I have been fighting it down, but here in the moonlight it is too strong for me. I love you, and it is not within my power to marry you. I must go away, and perhaps never see you again; I have loved you ever since those days on the _Norje_"--this was untrue but he said it with conviction, even felt it--"and you love me darling, you can't deny it. Oh, _cara_, _carissima_, look at me, let me see your eyes!"

His arm had stolen round her, she raised her head, and he saw that bright drops glittered on her lashes. In a flash his mouth was on hers and she returned his kiss. She stood unresisting in his embrace, leaning against him, her whole form quivering, then after a moment, gently freed herself and walked a few paces away, her head bent, clasping and unclasping her hands. He followed her and would have taken her in his arms again but she stopped him.

"What's the use?" she asked in a hoa.r.s.e voice, "we have no right,--you can't marry me. You must not--" her voice broke.

"But you love me," cried Mirko, a pa.s.sionate gladness ringing in his voice. "You do love me! Surely we have the right to a little happiness!"

"No," she answered slowly, "no, it is impossible. You must go away. This is not your destiny. You will be King some day, your country, your people, claim you."

"I will give it all up for you, Ragna!" He knew that he would not, but promises come easily, by moonlight.

"No," she repeated, "you must go; we must part."

"But if you love me--"

"If I love you?"

"What need is there to part? If you loved me enough."

"Oh," she cried, suffocating, as his meaning dawned on her, "Oh! Do you take me for that?"

She sprang back, her breast heaving, tears rising to her eyes.

"Take you for what, dear? For a woman who would love me better than all the world beside? Do you think that an insult?"

"You--you would make me your--," she could not bring herself to say the word.

Prince Mirko executed a masterly retreat.

"My child!" he cried in a horrified voice. "What do you imagine? I mean that where true love is, there can be no parting. Far or near, those who love are always united."

"Oh," said Ragna dubiously, "I thought you meant--"

Mirko fixed his mournful eyes upon her.

"Did I not tell you yesterday that I would rather die than harm you?" he asked reproachfully.

Ragna hung her head, ashamed.

"You have no confidence in me--and yet I deserve it," he said bitterly.

"I have confidence in you; it was only that I did not understand, I was afraid--"

"Do you wish to give me a proof of your confidence, dear one?"

"Yes," said Ragna, "what shall I do?" she was ashamed of her suspicion and eager to atone.