"You'll pay for that, my friend," he snarled. He turned thinking to pour himself a glass of liqueur and the sight of the broken decanter and its wasted contents completed his discomfiture. He was furious with Angelescu, furious with Ragna, all the more so as he was distinctly conscious of having played a very ugly role. "Damn the girl, I wish I had never seen her!" His servant, coming in response to his furious summons, met with a most unpleasant reception; he was used, however, to acting as _souffre douleur_ in his Royal Master's fits of anger and philosophically bore the storm of invective hurled at his defenceless head. The outburst had its usual calming effect on Mirko, who to do him justice, soon felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. Most of all he regretted the estrangement of Angelescu; from boyhood up he had always depended on Otto's devotion and clear judgment, and to have lost such a friend over such a foolish affair would be much too hard luck, a punishment far in excess of his fault. The wrong done to Ragna was much less important in his eyes; like every Don Juan, he had a contempt for women, and now that his passion had subsided he wondered what had attracted him in the girl, who after all was no great beauty. "I will see what can be done to-morrow," he promised himself; he felt even ready to humble himself if necessary, to draw Otto back to him again, never doubting that by some means he would succeed in doing so. But alas for his plans! When he awoke late the next morning and sent his valet to inquire for the aide, the man came back with the announcement that Count Angelescu had left by the early train. CHAPTER VI Ragna was awakened by the maid knocking at her door. She sat up holding her throbbing head between her hands, trying to marshal in her mind the fragmentary memories of yesterday, that seemed like bits of a bad dream. They fell into their places, one by one,--the drive, the terrible evening at the _veglione_, her conversation with Angelescu, the return to her box, and the joyous welcome from her party, who were growing anxious for her--especially Astrid, consumed by remorse, for having deserted her in the crowd-- "And for that fool of a Lotten, who dances like a knitting-machine, anyhow, and let me get bumped and trampled on, and dragged to pieces in the crush!" Then the sleepy return home. "Why don't you stop knocking, Rosa? I don't want to get up yet!" she called fretfully. "I have a letter for you, Signorina, it is marked '_urgent_.'" Ragna rose wearily, and unlocked the door; Rosa brought in the breakfast tray and set it down, then fished an envelope out of her apron pocket, and having handed it to Ragna, left the room. She would willingly have lingered to chatter about the _veglione_, but Ragna's manner did not invite conversation. Ragna relocked the door, and returned to bed to read her letter; it was from Angelescu, and ran as follows: "MY DEAR CHILD,