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a curious sensation, a sort of magnetic thrill drawing her to him, and as long as he looked at her she could not have withdrawn her eyes, nor lowered her lids.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?"