"Have I not the pleasure of addressing Mdlle. Andersen?"
She turned and met the eyes of Prince Mirko. The colour left her cheeks and she felt a suffocating sensation at her heart. She could not answer him, her voice seemed strangled in her throat. The Prince continued:
"Or is it Madame Something?"
The red came back to her cheeks with a rush, and recovering the use of her tongue, she murmured,
"Your Highness! Here?"
"Yes," he answered, "I'm not a ghost, but I'm not a 'Highness' either,—I left that at home; I am plain 'Count Romanoff,' for the present. But you are still Mademoiselle Andersen?"
She nodded affirmatively.
"What shall I say? That I am glad? But that would be selfish—poor unfortunate man that you have not married!" He laughed easily.
Ragna smiled; his playful assumption of comradeship put her at her ease; the ice was broken, it was a tacit resumption of their friendly relation before the far away evening of the kiss. Perhaps he had forgotten that episode, his cheerful friendliness of manner gave no intimation of any such recollection, and Ragna felt gladly assured that such was the case. The thought completed her composure, and she replied,
"But neither have you married, Your—"