She was anxious to evade isolation in the enemy’s territory, obliged to obey her superiors like a caged beast who has to take jabs through the iron grating.  Presentiment of her approaching death was making her tremble.

“I do not want to die, Ulysses!...  I am not old enough yet to die.  I adore my physical charm.  I am my own best lover and I am terrified at the thought that I might be shot.”

A phosphorescent light gleamed from her eyes and her teeth struck together with a chattering of terror.

“I do not want to die!” she repeated.  “There are moments in which I suspect that they are following me and closing me in....  Perhaps they have recognized me and at this moment are waiting to surprise me in the very act....  Do help me; get me away from here; my death is certain.  I have done so much harm!...”

She was silent a moment, as though calculating all the crimes of her former life.

“The doctor,” she continued, “depends upon her consuming patriotic enthusiasm as the impetus to her work.  I lack her faith.  I am not a German woman, and being a spy is very repugnant to me....  I feel ashamed when I think of my actual life; every night I think over the result of my abominable work; I calculate the use to which they will put my warnings and my information; I can see the torpedoed boats....  I wonder how many human beings have perished through my fault!...  I have visions; my conscience torments me.  Save me!...  I can do no more.  I feel a horrible fear.  I have so much to expiate!...”

Little by little she had raised herself from the divan, and, while begging Ferragut’s protection, was going toward him with outstretched arms; abject, and yet at the same time caressing, through that desire of seduction that always predominated over all her acts.

“Leave me!” shouted the sailor.  “Do not come near me....  Do not touch me!”

He felt that same wrath that had made him so brutal in their interview in Barcelona.  He was greatly exasperated at the tenacity of this adventuress who, in addition to the tragic influence she had already exercised upon his life, was now trying to compromise him still further.

But a sentiment of cold compassion made him check his anger and speak with a certain kindness.

If she needed money in order to make her escape, he would give it to her without any haggling whatever.  She could name the sum.  The captain was disposed to satisfy all her desires except that of living with her.  He would give her a substantial amount in order to make her fortune assured and never see her again.

Freya made a gesture of protest at the same time that the sailor began repenting of his generosity....  Why should he do such a favor to a woman who reminded him of the death of his son?...  What was there in common between the two?...  Their vile love-affair in Naples had been sufficiently paid for with his bereavement....  Let each one follow his own destiny; they belonged to different worlds....  Was he going to have to defend himself all his life long from this insistent charmer?...