"No! No!" he interrupted, "don't call me that! In the first place I am here incognito, and then I have always liked to think that to at least one charming person in the world, I am just myself, just 'Mirko.' We were comrades on the ship—let us begin again where we left off—shall we?"
Her eyes interrogated him intently, but she still saw no sign of an embarrassing memory, so she allowed herself to smile. In point of fact, he had no distinct recollection of those days on the Norje, nor of their ending; many new faces had come between, in the intervening years. He merely remembered Ragna as a charming child who had helped while away the hours on the little steamer, and the finding of her here in Rome was a windfall, when he most needed distraction. His eye followed approvingly the slightly more developed curves of her figure and the shining ripples of her hair. He had been to Monte Carlo and luck had been against him, even to his father's hearing of the escapade, and it had been intimated to him that a month or so of rustication incognito before coming home, in order to give the paternal wrath time to cool, would materially aid in the restoration of peace. Ragna's emotion at his sudden appearance laid a flattering unction to his soul; her northern, and to him, unusual beauty attracted him newly, and he said to himself,
"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love—chi lo sa?"
"Let us move on," he said to Ragna, "we are attracting attention as well as stopping the way. You will let me walk with you, and you shall tell me how it is you happen to be here."
Ragna found herself walking beside him as in a dream. In reply to his questions she told him of her journey to Italy with Fru Bjork and Astrid; she described Fröken Hagerup and her peculiarities, to his great amusement. Something in him seemed to draw out the wit and humour in her—or perhaps it was the excitement of the unexpected meeting,—in any case she talked to him as she had never talked to anyone in her life.
So they walked on until they reached the Piazza del Popolo, and Ragna looking at her watch found, to her horror and surprise, that it was half-past twelve.
"And I never heard the midday gun!" she exclaimed.
The large square was deserted; a beggar or two sat eating in the sun by the fountains. Even the busy Corso seemed empty.
"I must hurry home at once," said Ragna, turning swiftly.
"It is a long walk,—why go back? Why not celebrate our reunion by lunching with me?" suggested Mirko.