No longer restrained by Elena's complete dominion over him, his energies returned to their original state of disorder.

He passed from one liaison to another with incredible frivolity, carrying on several at the same time, and weaving without scruple a great net of deceptions and lies, in which to catch as much prey as possible.

The habit of duplicity undermined his conscience, but one instinct remained alive, implacably alive in him--the repugnance at all this which attracted without holding him captive.

His will, as useless to him now as a sword of indifferently tempered steel, hung as if at the side of an inebriated or paralysed man.
One evening, at the Dolcebuonos', when he had outstayed the rest of the guests in the drawing-room, full of flowers and still vibrating with a _Cachoucha_ of Raff's, he had spoken of love to Bianca.

He did it almost without thinking, attracted instinctively by the reflected charm of her being a friend of Elena's.