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Updated: June 14, 2025
Ferragut remained insensible to the caress. His immobility repelled these pleadings. Freya had traveled much through the world, had gone through shameful adventures, and would know how to free herself by her own efforts without the necessity of complicating him again in her net. The story that she had just told was nothing to him but a web of misrepresentations.
The cuttlefish and ink fish, upon perceiving that they are pursued, enwrap themselves in a cloud of invisibility, just as did the enchanters of old in the books of chivalry, darkening the water with the ink stored in their glands. Ferragut continued to pass slowly along the Aquarium between the two rows of vertical tanks, stone cases with thick glass that permitted full view of the interior.
The little Ferragut used to play that he was the captain of the Mare Nostrum and would pace the bridge, pretending that a great tempest was coming up, and examine the nautical instrument with the gravity of an expert.
"Eighty years," said Ferragut, terminating his account of the glorious adventures of Roger de Flor around Gallipoli, "the Spanish duchy of Athens and Neopatria flourished. Eighty years the Catalans governed these lands." And he pointed out on the horizon the place where the red haze of distant promontories and mountains outlined the Grecian land. Such a duchy was in reality a republic.
Ferragut was near the gun, admiring the calm coolness with which its servants manipulated it. One always had a projectile in his arms ready to give it to his companion who rapidly introduced it into the smoking chamber.
Then on deck she stopped, opening her gold-mesh bag, in order to take out the little glass and powder box. In the beveled edge of the oval glass she saw the faun-like countenance of Toni hovering behind her with glances of impatience. "Tell Captain Ferragut that I shall never trouble him again.... All has ended.... Perhaps he may hear me spoken of some time, but he will never see me again."
"You certainly know the sea well," he said in an approving tone. Ferragut was about to go on talking when the two ladies entered with a tray which contained the tea service and various plates of cakes. The captain saw nothing strange in their lack of servants. The doctor and her friend were to him a pair of women of extraordinary customs, and so he thought all their acts were logical and natural.
Through the blue circle of the glasses Ferragut saw this tube climbing up and up, growing larger and larger. It was no longer a stick, it was a tower; and from beneath this tower was coming up on the sea a base of steel spouting cascades of smoke, a gray whale-back that appeared little by little to be taking the form of a sailing vessel, long and sharp-pointed.
It was the magnificent toilet of a rich actress who puts everything on herself, of one so enamored with jewels that she is not able to live without their contact, adorning herself with them the minute she is out of bed, regardless of the hour and the rules of good taste. But Ferragut did not take into consideration the unsuitableness of all this luxury.
The inner harbor, black and solitary, was filled with weak little lights twinkling from the heights of the masts. Ferragut stood undecided whether to go home to eat, or to a restaurant in the Rambla. Then he suspected that some of the fugitives from that dirty cafe were near, intending to follow him.
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