At others, he would accept it with the delight of a new pleasure.
Suddenly a window-shutter would seem to swing open in his imagination, and, passing by this luminous square, he would see the melancholy Cinta, his son Esteban, the bridge of his vessel and Toni at the helm.
"Forget!" cried the voice of his evil counselor, blotting out the vision.

"Enjoy the present!...

There is plenty of time to go in search of them." And again he would sink himself in his refined and artificial luxurious state with the selfishness of the satrap who, after ordering various cruelties, locks himself in his harem.
The very finest linens, scattered by chance, enveloped his body or served as cushions.

They were her lingerie, stray petals of her beauty, that still kept the warmth and perfume of her body.

If Ferragut needed any object belonging to him, he had to hunt for it through sheaves of skirts, silk petticoats, white negligees, perfumes and portraits, all scattered over the furniture or tossed in the corners.