"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?"