He paused, stroking her hand. His touch seemed to magnetise her, for her hand lay passive within his and she made no effort to withdraw it as he leaned towards her. The music of his voice seemed to hold her enthralled,--perhaps the champagne she had drunk had something to do with it,--she had no volition, her will was asleep. "Who will the 'Prince' be, Ragna? A fair-haired lover with cold blue eyes, or a Southerner--one who will burn you with his passion, who will reveal to you all the magic of love? Is it not worth everything to feel one's self awake, to live?" The sense of his physical nearness almost overpowered her and she moved uneasily. Mirko's fingers had crept to her wrist and seemed to burn the tender skin. "Are you afraid of me, Ragna?" he asked. She answered that she was not, ashamed that he should think her timid and unsophisticated. If he talked to her in this way, it must be the way of the world, of his world. She felt that none of the men she had known would speak to her as he spoke--but then she could not imagine their doing so, without appearing extremely ridiculous. And then, she reflected the Prince and she were on the open deck,--there could be no harm, so she surrendered herself to the fascination of the moment. "Ragna," the melodious voice at her ear murmured, "I could teach you so much, so very much that you do not know--so many things that you will never know if you marry one of your cold country men! I would teach you to live, dear, to live and to love; I could make your heart beat and your veins burn; I would hold you hard and fast in my arms,--or quite lightly, and under my caresses you would live--oh, Ragna, to see the light of Life in your sea-blue eyes, to feel your red lips learn to kiss, to feel your beautiful body quiver, as you learned the mystery of Love!" In reality he had lost his head, he had let himself be led on by his passionate fancy,--at first only a playful desire to flatter the girl, to lead her on to graceful flirtation, but his hot blood had got the better of him, and as he proceeded, the voluptuous image called up by his words inflamed his senses and lost him to all sense of restraint or prudence. He seized the girl, for Ragna, dazed, intoxicated and fascinated by his daring speech, and by the magnetic suggestion of his desire, opposed no resistance to his encircling arms. He drew her to him, and covered her neck and bosom with burning kisses. She gasped half fainting, then he took her mouth, and her eyes opened wide at the revelation of a sensation the like of which she had never imagined. But with the revelation came the awakening; with a frantic effort she broke from him and stumbled to the rail. The action brought him to himself and to a sense of shame. "Oh, Ragna," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "What have I done! Pardon me! It was too much for me, your beauty, having you there, so near me! Ragna, speak to me, tell me that you forgive me!"