He did not know how to express himself properly, but the very possibility that his beloved sea might witness such crimes gave new vehemence to his indignation.

The soul of Doctor Ferragut appeared to be reviving in this rude Mediterranean sailor.

He had never seen the white Amphitrite, but he trembled for her with a religious fervor, without even knowing her.

Was the luminous blue from which had arisen the early gods to be dishonored by the oily spot that would disclose assassination _en masse_!...

Were the rosy strands from whose foam Venus had sprung to receive clusters of corpses, impelled by the waves!...