"The price is heavy."
They stood silent a time, then Mirko spoke again in a deep voice.
"I love you, Ragna, you know it—you must have seen it. I did not mean to tell you, I have been fighting it down, but here in the moonlight it is too strong for me. I love you, and it is not within my power to marry you. I must go away, and perhaps never see you again; I have loved you ever since those days on the Norje"—this was untrue but he said it with conviction, even felt it—"and you love me darling, you can't deny it. Oh, cara, carissima, look at me, let me see your eyes!"
His arm had stolen round her, she raised her head, and he saw that bright drops glittered on her lashes. In a flash his mouth was on hers and she returned his kiss. She stood unresisting in his embrace, leaning against him, her whole form quivering, then after a moment, gently freed herself and walked a few paces away, her head bent, clasping and unclasping her hands. He followed her and would have taken her in his arms again but she stopped him.
"What's the use?" she asked in a hoarse voice, "we have no right,—you can't marry me. You must not—" her voice broke.
"But you love me," cried Mirko, a passionate gladness ringing in his voice. "You do love me! Surely we have the right to a little happiness!"
"No," she answered slowly, "no, it is impossible. You must go away. This is not your destiny. You will be King some day, your country, your people, claim you."
"I will give it all up for you, Ragna!" He knew that he would not, but promises come easily, by moonlight.
"No," she repeated, "you must go; we must part."
"But if you love me—"