And now this form, molded by nature in a moment of enthusiasm, was no longer in existence....

It was nothing but a mass of liquid flesh and pestilent pulp!...
He recalled her kiss, that kiss that had so electrified him, making him sink down and down through an ocean of ecstasy, like a castaway, content with his fate....

And he would never know her more!...

And her mouth, with its perfume of cinnamon and incense, of Asiatic forests haunted with sensuousness and intrigue, was now ...! Ah, misery! Suddenly he saw the profile of the dead woman with one eye turned toward him, graciously and malignly, just as the "eye of the morning" must have looked at its mistress while uncoiling her mysterious dances in her Asiatic dwelling.
Ulysses concentrated his attention on the Phantasm's pallid brow touched by the silky caress of her curls.

There he had placed his best kisses, kisses of tenderness and gratitude....