"Ah," said Mirko, "why should you fear the awakening of your soul? A woman who has not loved, who does not love is a sweet instrument out of tune. Love brings you into harmony with the music of the Universe. Do you not want to learn all that life has to teach? The Book of Love is here for you to open, you have but to stretch forth your hand." Ragna stood listening fascinated. No one had ever talked to her like this. The recollection of her Norwegian suitors rose to her mind and she scorned them in her heart. Who of them all could have spoken like this? This was fairyland, and the fairy Prince was at her side. "Ragna," his voice caressed her, "Ragna, my Star of the North, tell me have you not felt it, the magic spell?" She raised her eyes to his, and there passed from him to her a magnetic current that seized and shook her innermost being. It frightened her; with an effort she turned her eyes away and the spell was broken. She passed her hands to her heart, then stretched them out before her as though to thrust him away. "Oh, you must not!" she cried, "indeed you must not!" "Have I said anything that could offend you? Surely not! I would die rather than offend you, dear little friend!" The word reassured her and soothed her conscience; how could she explain that it was far more the look than the words? "Perhaps you misunderstood me," he continued, "but I did not think you would, I thought we knew each other too well for that!" He spoke as though wounded by a misconstruction put upon his sincerity. Ragna felt foolish. "I shall try not to offend you again," he said presently, and very humbly, "but you must bear me good-will enough not to look for offence where none is intended." The girl smiled at him by way of answer. It was growing rapidly dark and a _guardia di pubblico sicurezza_ passing by, eyed the isolated couple curiously, but also with the sympathy every Latin feels for a pair of lovers. The bells had long since ceased ringing and many lights twinkled in the city below. In the sky stood a fair large planet and Mirko drew Ragna's attention to it. "Venus, the Star of Love," he said briefly, with no comment, but his voice emphasized the words. Ragna turned and they walked to the Spanish Stairs. As they passed the Trinità del Monte a voice came out to them, a soprano voice marvellously clear and vibrant, the pure high notes almost startling in their passionate intensity. "How beautiful!" said Ragna, and Mirko answered: "But how sad! Think of a woman who can put that into her singing, eating her heart out in a cloister!" As they descended the stairs Ragna looked up again at the white planet nearing the horizon, a whiter glow seemed to be overtaking the star, drowning it in a diffused effulgence. "The moon is casting poor Venus in the shade." "Ah, yes, she is wise to retire before the moon! Listen, Ragna, to-morrow the moon will be full,--you must give me the evening, we shall go to see the Colosseum by moonlight!"