A deep blush crept over Ragna's cheeks, she drew her hand from his.
"Hush, this is folly. You must not talk to me like that!"
Now that he had spoken she wished that he had not, yet she knew now that for days past she had been waiting for him to say just this. She felt at the same time guiltily conscious of her delight that he should speak to her in this way and terrified lest he should continue.
"Ah," said Mirko, "why should you fear the awakening of your soul? A woman who has not loved, who does not love is a sweet instrument out of tune. Love brings you into harmony with the music of the Universe. Do you not want to learn all that life has to teach? The Book of Love is here for you to open, you have but to stretch forth your hand."
Ragna stood listening fascinated. No one had ever talked to her like this. The recollection of her Norwegian suitors rose to her mind and she scorned them in her heart. Who of them all could have spoken like this? This was fairyland, and the fairy Prince was at her side.
"Ragna," his voice caressed her, "Ragna, my Star of the North, tell me have you not felt it, the magic spell?"
She raised her eyes to his, and there passed from him to her a magnetic current that seized and shook her innermost being. It frightened her; with an effort she turned her eyes away and the spell was broken. She passed her hands to her heart, then stretched them out before her as though to thrust him away.
"Oh, you must not!" she cried, "indeed you must not!"
"Have I said anything that could offend you? Surely not! I would die rather than offend you, dear little friend!"
The word reassured her and soothed her conscience; how could she explain that it was far more the look than the words?