She would have considered either of them a most desirable husband for her niece--was not young Nansen tall and handsome as well as the only son of wealthy parents? And was not Peter Näss a most estimable young man and well situated to make a wife comfortable and happy? What was Ragna waiting for? A white blackbird? Ragna threw her arms about her aunt's neck. "Dear Aunt Gitta, I am so happy with you! I don't want to marry ever, I think!" "Not want to marry, child? You are crazy! It is a woman's duty to marry and rear children--the Bible says so. Perhaps you think you are in love with some other young man?" No, Ragna was in love with no one. "Well then, why did you refuse Ole Nansen?" "Because I did not love him." "Oh, stuff and nonsense! Not love him! Very probably you don't, but that is not essential, not one woman in a hundred 'loves' her husband until after she has married him. The important part is that everything else should be suitable. There's nothing you dislike in him, is there?" "No, Auntie." Fru Boyesen raised her eyes to Heaven. "Well, all I can say is, you'll never get such a chance again; young Nansen is a man in a thousand." "Are you so anxious to be rid of me, Auntie dear?" "No, of course not, goosie," she kissed the girl affectionately, "but I should like to see you married, in a home of your own. It would be much better for you, I am sure. I don't really approve of this one-sided life you are leading." "But, Auntie dear, how could I marry a man who takes no interest in my work? These young men are very nice and all that, but we have absolutely nothing in common. I asked Peter Näss the other day what he thought of the Kantian philosophy, and he said he had never thought about it at all. These young men never like to talk about serious subjects and they refuse to take me seriously when I do." "Ah, Ragna," said the elder woman, "when you have a home and children to look after, you will find that all your philosophy goes to the wall." "But that is just what I am afraid of, why should I stifle all my higher instincts in a commonplace marriage?" She had not told her aunt, however, what was the real matter with her. The fact was that try as she might, she could not rid herself of the memory of Prince Mirko and that moonlit crossing of the North Sea. His kiss remained imprinted on her lips and his idealized image on her heart. She mentally compared with him the young men of her acquaintance and weighing them in the balance, found them woefully wanting.