Perhaps she might be a spy!" And the word "spy" on her lips took on an expression of immense scorn.
The doctor was absent on frequent trips and Karl the employee in the study, was the one who received visitors.

Sometimes he would pass through the row of deserted rooms in order to ask some information of Freya, and she would follow him out, deserting her lover for a few moments.
Left to himself, Ulysses would suddenly realize the dual nature of his personality.

Then the man he was before that meeting in Pompeii would assert himself, and he would see his vessel and his home in Barcelona.
"What have you got yourself into ?" he would ask himself remorsefully.
"How is all this affair ever going to turn out ?..." But at the sound of her footsteps in the next room, on perceiving the atmospheric wave produced by the displacement of her adorable body, this second person would fold itself back and a dark curtain would fall over his memory, leaving visible only the actual reality.
With the beatific smile of an opium-smoker, he would accept the impetuous caress of her lips, the entwining of her arms, strangling him like marble boas.
"Ulysses, my master!...

The moments that separate me from you weigh upon me like centuries!" He, on the other hand, had lost all notion of time.

The days were all confused in his mind, and he had to keep asking in order to realize their passing.