In his maudlin siestas, satiated and happy, there would always reappear another Freya who was not Freya, but Dona Constanza, the Empress of Byzantium.

He could see her dressed as a peasant girl, just as she was portrayed in the picture in the church of Valencia, and at the same time completely undressed, like the other houri, who was dancing in the salon.
This double image, which disappeared and reappeared capriciously with the arbitrariness of dreams, was always telling him the same thing.
Freya was Dona Constanza perpetuated across the centuries, taking on a new form.

She was born of the union of a German and an Italian, just like this other one....

But the chaste empress was now smiling in her nudeness, satisfied with being simply Freya.

Marital infidelity, persecution and poverty had been the result of her first existence when she was tranquil and virtuous.
"Now I know the truth," Dona Constanza would say with a sweetly immodest smile.