The train moved out slowly over the Campagna, towards the hills, and Ragna leaned out the window, taking a last look at the city where she had left faith and innocence. As the city receded in the misty distance, the Pagan relics disappeared; the dome of St. Peter's towered mystically above the town, drawing the eye irresistibly, seeming to say: "All else passes, but I the Faith of the Ages, I remain." Then a heavy curtain of rain swept down, obscuring the view, and she sank back in her seat. The train swerved round a curve, and with the change of direction the rain blew in at the open window; Ragna tugged at the strap, trying to raise it, but it resisted her efforts. "Allow me," said a voice over her shoulder, in French; it was the man of the newspaper. He took the strap from her hands, and with a jerk sent the refractory pane into place. "It is a wet day," he remarked as though he felt called upon to apologise for the climate. "I regret that _ces dames_ should be seeing Italy in such unfavourable circumstances." Fru Bjork answered him. "Indeed, we cannot complain, we have had such beautiful weather until quite recently." "Mesdames have been long in Rome?" "Three months." "And you enjoyed the Carnival?" "It was great fun!" interposed Astrid. "Too much fun," said Estelle, lowering the guide-ook she had been reading, and peering out over the rims of her spectacles. "You look a perfect rag, Astrid, and Ragna too. Too much dissipation!" "Ah!" exclaimed the gentleman, deprecatingly, glancing from one girl to another, adjusting his pince-nez the while, "mademoiselles are tired, then--from too much sight-seeing, perhaps?" Ragna flushed and made no reply, but Astrid, throwing an angry glance at Estelle, answered: "Everyone is not as strong as a horse, and the stairs in Rome are simply awful." "Mademoiselle is perhaps a little anæmic?" Then as the girl looked surprised he added, "I beg your pardon, but I am a physician and have seen too strenuous sight-seeing have that effect on many young lady travellers. Allow me to present myself: Dr. Ferrari, of Florence." He bowed in the direction of Fru Bjork who responded, naming herself, and the others of her party. The Doctor bowed to each in turn but his eyes rested longest on Ragna--their kindly penetration could give no offence, however, one instinctively trusted the man. The girl puzzled him, her gravity seemed unnatural in one so young; she seemed consciously keyed up to a certain pitch of conduct, her smile was forced, and when the tension was relaxed owing to her thinking herself unobserved, or to a moment of forgetfulness, the corners of her mouth drooped and her eyes fixed their gaze on a point in space, as though visualizing something of ineffable sadness. In this state she would start on being spoken to and a flash, almost of fear, would pass in her eyes.