wished to kill me, you
highwayman!..."

Before he should clearly recall that night of violence, Freya continued
her recollections with feminine astuteness.... It was Ulysses who had
wanted to kill her; she reiterated it without admitting any reply.

"We shall visit the doctor," she continued. "The poor woman wants to
see you and has asked me to bring you. She is very much interested in
you because she knows that I love you, my pirate!"

After having arranged the hour of meeting, Freya wished to depart. But
before returning to her launch, she felt curious to inspect the boat,
just as she Had examined the saloon and the staterooms.

With the air of a reigning princess, preceded by the captain and
followed by the officials, she went over the two decks, entered the
galleries of the engine room and the four-sided abyss of the hatchways,
sniffing the musty odor of the hold. On the bridge she touched with
childish enthusiasm the large brass hood of the binnacle and other
steering instruments glistening as though made of gold.

She wished to see the galley and invaded Uncle Caragol's dominions,
putting his formal lines of casseroles into lamentable disorder, and
poking the tip of her rosy little nose into the steam arising from the
great stew in which was boiling the crew's mess.

The old man was able to see her close with his half-blind eyes. "Yes,
indeed, she was pretty!" The frou-frou of her skirts and the frequent
little clashes that he had with her in her comings and goings,
perturbed the apostle. His _chef_-like, sense of smell made him feel
annoyed by the perfume of this lady. "Pretty, but with the smell of
..." he repeated mentally. For him all feminine perfume merited this
scandalous title. Good women smelled of fish and kitchen pots; he was
sure of that.... In his faraway youth, the knowledge of poor Caragol
had never gone beyond that.

As soon as he was alone, he snatched up a rag, waving it violently
around, as though he were driving away flies. He wished to clear the
atmosphere of bad odors. He felt as scandalized as though she had let a
cake of soap fall into one of his delicious rice compounds.

The men of the crew crowded to the railings in order to follow the
course of the little launch that was making toward shore.

Toni, standing on the bridge, also contemplated her with enigmatic
eyes.

"You are handsome, but may the sea swallow you up before you come
back!"

A handkerchief was waving from the