Ragna stood watching the brilliant scene. The noise and the recurrent rhythm of the dance music aroused a certain wildness within her,—the latent savagery hidden in the hearts of all of us. As the tide rose within her she grew defiant and reckless—she had lost that which a girl holds most precious, why should she observe any restraint, had not the bonds of conventionality been snapped for her? Would she not be justified in flinging all constraint to the winds, in giving free rein to the wildest impulses of her nature? "It's of no use keeping the stable-door locked when the horse is stolen," she reflected bitterly. Her foot tapped the floor in time to the music, the whirling crowd fascinated her, drew her as to a vortex, it was a critical moment. "He had no scruples, why should I have any henceforward?" she asked herself. "'Carpe diem,' he used to say,—well, I say it now and I mean it!" She stepped out from the wall.
Suddenly a band of maskers emerged from the crowd, thrown from it like the spray from the crest of a wave, they surrounded Ragna, holding one another by the hand, forming a chain about her. One of them, a tall man disguised as Mephistopheles, stepped into the ring and the others capered about them, gibbering.
"Bella mascherina!" squeaked the Mephisto. Ragna smiled at the challenge and the masker thus encouraged, came close to her.
"Ti conosco, mascherina!" he said.
Ragna shook her head laughingly.
"Impossible!"
"What, not recognise the most beautiful mouth in Rome! Già!" The man's tone was insolent.
"Go away!" said Ragna.
"Don't be rude, mascherina! I won't betray you—I can keep a secret as well as anyone!"
"Go away!" repeated Ragna, her defiant feeling of a few moments earlier giving way to nervous apprehension. Why had she left the shelter of the wall, why exposed herself to the impertinence of half-tipsy maskers?