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Then Hallgerd was sent for, and came with two women. She wore a blue woven mantle … her hair reached down to her waist on both sides, and she tucked it under her belt.

And there was, too, this account of a housewife in her “kyrtil”:

The dress-train was trailing,
The skirt had a blue tint;
Her brow was brighter,
Her neck was whiter
Than pure new fallen snow.

In other words, that one glance at Nancy in the garden, when he had risen at her entrance, had disclosed to Olaf the fundamental in her. He had known her as a sea-maiden. And she had not known it, nor I, nor Anthony.

* * * * *

Luncheon was served on deck. We were waited on by fair-haired, but very modern Norsemen. The crew on The Viking were all Scandinavians. Most of them spoke English, and there seemed nothing uncommon about any of them. Yet, in the mood of the moment, I should have felt no surprise had they served us in the skins of wild animals, or had set sail like pirates with the two of us captive on board.

I will confess, also, to a feeling of exaltation which clouded my judgment. I knew that Olaf was falling in love with Nancy, and I half guessed that Nancy might be falling in love with Olaf, yet I sat there and let them do it. If Anthony should ever know! Yet how can he know? As I weigh it now, I am not sure that I have anything with which to reproach myself, for the end, at times, justifies the means, and the Jesuitical theory had its origin, perhaps, in the profound knowledge that Fate does not always use fair methods in gaining her ends.

I can’t begin to tell you what we talked about. Nancy had dried her hair, and it was wound loosely, high on her head. The blue cloak was over her shoulders, and she was the loveliest thing that I ever hope to see. By the flame in her cheeks and the light in her eyes, I was made aware of an exaltation which matched my own. She, too, was caught up into the atmosphere of excitement which Olaf created. He could not take his eyes from her. I wondered what Anthony would have said could he have visioned for the moment this blue-and-gold enchantress.

When coffee was served there were no cigarettes or cigars. Nancy had her own silver case hanging at her belt. I knew that she would smoke, and I did not try to stop her. She always smoked after her meals and she was restless without it.

It was Olaf who stopped her. “You will hate my bad manners,” he said, with his gaze holding hers, “but I wish you wouldn’t.”

She was lighting her own little wax taper and she looked her surprise.

“My cigarette?”

He nodded. “You are too lovely.”

“But surely you are not so–old-fashioned.”

“No. I am perhaps so–new-fashioned that my reason might take your breath away.” He laughed but did not explain.

Nancy sat undecided while the taper burned out futilely. Then she said, “Of course you are my host–“

“Don’t do it for that reason. Do it because”–he stopped, laughed again, and went on–“because you are a goddess–a woman of a new race–“

With parted lips she looked at him, then tried to wrench herself back to her attitude of light indifference.

“Oh, we’ve grown beyond all that.”

“All what?”

“Goddess-women. We are just nice and human together.”

“You are nice and human. But you are more than that.”

Nancy put her unlighted cigarette back in its case. “I’ll keep it for next time,” she said, with a touch of defiance.

“There will be no next time,” was his secure response, and his eyes held hers until, with an effort, she withdrew her gaze.