He was dead with fatigue when he got there, stayed the night, and went on the following afternoon to Hamburg.

He had been there two days now, but had not been able till to-day to gather sufficient courage to go and see Paul.
Solitude had been an absolute necessity to him; he fancied that he who ran might read upon his brow the story of how he had lived and of what he had been guilty.

His thoughts were incessantly in Paris.

During the journey, in Cologne, since his arrival in Hamburg, he saw nothing but Pilar's room, her return from the ball, and her passionate exhibition of grief during the hours and days that followed.

He only lived in these imaginings.