“It was necessary to see you,” she continued.  “It concerns your very existence.  You have set yourself in opposition to a tremendous power that can crush you.  Your ruin is decided upon.  You are one lone man and you have awakened the suspicion, without knowing it, of a world-wide organization....  The blow has not yet fallen upon you, but it is going to fall at any moment, perhaps this very day; I cannot find out all about it....  For this reason it was necessary to see you in order that you should put yourself on the defensive, in order that you should flee, if necessary.”

The captain, smiling scornfully, shrugged his shoulders as he always did when people spoke to him of danger, and counseled prudence.  Besides, he couldn’t believe a single thing that woman said.

“It’s a lie!” he said dully.  “It’s all a lie!...

“No, Ulysses:  listen to me.  You do not know the interest that you inspire in me.  You are the only man that I have ever loved...  Do not smile at me in that way:  your incredulity terrifies me....  Remorse is now united to my poor love.  I have done you so much wrong!...  I hate all men.  I long to cause them all the harm that I can; but there exists one exception:  you!...  All my desires of happiness are for you.  My dreams of the future always have you as the central personage....  Do you want me to remain indifferent upon seeing you in danger?...  No, I am not lying....  Everything that I tell you this afternoon is the truth:  I shall never be able to lie to you.  It distresses me so that my artifices and my falsity should have brought trouble upon you....  Strike me again, treat me as the worst of women, but believe what I tell you; follow my counsel.”

The sailor persisted disdainfully in his indifferent attitude.  His hands were trembling impatiently.  He was going away.  He did not wish to hear any more....  Had she hunted him out just to frighten him with imaginary dangers?...

“What have you done, Ulysses?...  What have you done?” Freya kept saying desperately.

She knew all that had occurred in the port of Marseilles, and she also knew well the infinite number of agents that were working for the greater glory of Germany.  Von Kramer, from his prison, had made known the name of his informant.  She lamented the captain’s vehement frankness.

“I understand your hatred; you cannot forget the torpedoing of the Californian....  But you should have denounced von Kramer without letting him suspect from whom the accusation came....  You have acted like a madman; yours is an impulsive character that does not fear the morrow.”

Ulysses made a scornful gesture.  He did not like subterfuges and treachery.  His way of doing was the better one.  The only thing that he lamented was that that assassin of the sea might still be living, not having been able to kill him with his own hands.

“Perhaps he may not be living still,” she continued.  “The French Council of War has condemned him to death.  We do not know whether the sentence has been carried out; but they are going to shoot him any moment, and every one in our circle knows that you are the true author of his misfortune.”