"Yes, the Games, the glorious Games!" he replied eagerly. "Oh, to have seen it in its pomp and pride! Think of it, Ragna,--the people, the colours in the sunlight, the purple velarium up there against the sky, the Cæsar, the Senate, the Vestals,--and the gladiators in the ring!" "I was thinking of the martyrs," said Ragna. "Oh, the martyrs! Poor fools! After all it was their own fault." His slight sneer grated on the girl's mood. "They were glorious," she said indignantly, "they had the courage of their convictions. They proved their strength,--they were stronger than Cæsar, stronger than Rome,--their death was their victory!" Her eyes shone, and Mirko, looking at her face upturned in the moonlight, thought he had never seen her so beautiful, transfigured as she was, by her enthusiasm. "Would you have the courage of your convictions?" he asked suddenly. "I--I don't know. Which convictions, for instance?" "Well, if you did not believe in marriage, would you have the courage to override public opinion?" "But I do believe in marriage," she said simply. "Do you believe that love can be bound with a chain, then?" "There should be no question of binding--A marriage without love is no marriage at all in my eyes." He smiled at her earnest simplicity. "That is all very well--for you," he said, "but for me? I may not marry to please myself." His voice had a caressing cadence, charged with regret, his eyes were mournful under the long lashes. Perhaps for the moment he was really a victim to self pity. Like most emotional people, he was apt to believe in the sincerity of a passing feeling, even the appropriate pose of the hour investing him with a fleeting reality of sentiment. "No," said Ragna, "that is true. You cannot be free to follow your heart, it is part of the price you must pay." "The price is heavy." They stood silent a time, then Mirko spoke again in a deep voice. "I love you, Ragna, you know it--you must have seen it. I did not mean to tell you, I have been fighting it down, but here in the moonlight it is too strong for me. I love you, and it is not within my power to marry you. I must go away, and perhaps never see you again; I have loved you ever since those days on the _Norje_"--this was untrue but he said it with conviction, even felt it--"and you love me darling, you can't deny it. Oh, _cara_, _carissima_, look at me, let me see your eyes!" His arm had stolen round her, she raised her head, and he saw that bright drops glittered on her lashes. In a flash his mouth was on hers and she returned his kiss. She stood unresisting in his embrace, leaning against him, her whole form quivering, then after a moment, gently freed herself and walked a few paces away, her head bent, clasping and unclasping her hands. He followed her and would have taken her in his arms again but she stopped him. "What's the use?" she asked in a hoarse voice, "we have no right,--you can't marry me. You must not--" her voice broke.