CHAPTER VI
Ragna was awakened by the maid knocking at her door. She sat up holding her throbbing head between her hands, trying to marshal in her mind the fragmentary memories of yesterday, that seemed like bits of a bad dream. They fell into their places, one by one,—the drive, the terrible evening at the veglione, her conversation with Angelescu, the return to her box, and the joyous welcome from her party, who were growing anxious for her—especially Astrid, consumed by remorse, for having deserted her in the crowd—
"And for that fool of a Lotten, who dances like a knitting-machine, anyhow, and let me get bumped and trampled on, and dragged to pieces in the crush!" Then the sleepy return home.
"Why don't you stop knocking, Rosa? I don't want to get up yet!" she called fretfully.
"I have a letter for you, Signorina, it is marked 'urgent.'"
Ragna rose wearily, and unlocked the door; Rosa brought in the breakfast tray and set it down, then fished an envelope out of her apron pocket, and having handed it to Ragna, left the room. She would willingly have lingered to chatter about the veglione, but Ragna's manner did not invite conversation.
Ragna relocked the door, and returned to bed to read her letter; it was from Angelescu, and ran as follows:
"My Dear Child,
"I shall be leaving Rome in a few hours. After what has happened. I cannot remain any longer as aide-de-camp to H. R. H. and I am returning home to resign my commission in the service, and to see that it takes effect immediately. After that, my plans are undecided.
"I meant what I said to you last evening, and I refuse to consider your answer as definite. I beg of you to take some time to think over the proposition. I shall wait patiently for your ultimate decision, which I hope may be in my favour. In any case, should you ever stand in need of a friend, remember that now and always, I shall be at your service. Unfortunately for myself, perhaps, I am not a man who changes, and ten years from now I shall still be the same towards you as I am to-day. A letter sent to the address in the lower left-hand corner will find me always.
"Believe me,
"Your devoted friend and servant,"
(here followed the signature and address.)
Ragna read the letter through twice, thoughtfully. Its intentional restraint she took for coldness. Angelescu, in his effort to suit his language to her manner of the night before, and to avoid antagonizing her by any untimely warmth of expression, had overreached himself for, with her, the inevitable reaction had set in and the formality of the letter froze the feelings in her that a greater tenderness might have called forth. She misconstrued the delicacy of his intention, taking it for the ceremonious chivalry of a man, who, while repenting of his impulsive and quixotic offer, feels that he cannot withdraw it, and is prepared to abide by it, regardless of inclination.
Going to her writing table, she answered at once.