The second day was silvery and desperate.  There was fog on the gulf; the sun was no more than a reddish disk such as one sees in the northern countries; the mountains were clothed with lead; the clouds were hiding the cone of the volcano; the sea appeared to be made of tin, and a chilly wind was distending sails, skirts, and overcoats, making the people scurry along the promenade and the shore.  The musicians continued their singing but with melancholy sighs in the shelter of a corner, to keep out of the furious blasts from the sea.  “To die....  To die for thee!” a baritone voice groaned between the harps and violins.  And—­she came!

Upon learning from the waiter that the signora Talberg was in her room on the floor below, Ulysses thrilled with restlessness.  What would she say upon finding him installed in her hotel?...

The luncheon hour was at hand, and he impatiently awaited the usual signals before going down to the dining room.  First an explosion would be heard behind the albergo making the walls and roofs tremble, swelling out into the immensity of the gulf.  That was the midday cannonade from the high castle of S. Elmo.  Then cornets from the Castello dell’ Ovo would respond with their joyous call to the smoking olio, and up the stairway of the hotel would come the beating of the Chinese gong, announcing that luncheon was served.

Ulysses went down to take his place at table, looking in vain at the other guests who had preceded him.  Freya perhaps was going to come in with the delay of a traveler who has just arrived and has been occupied in freshening her toilet.

He lunched badly, looking continually at a great glass doorway decorated with pictures of boats, fishes, and sea gulls, and every time its polychromatic leaves parted, his food seemed to stick in his throat.  Finally came the end of the lunch, and he slowly sipped his coffee.  She did not appear.

On returning to his room, he sent the whiskered steward in search of news....  The signora had not lunched in the hotel; the signora had gone out while he was in the dining-room.  Surely she would show herself in the evening.

At dinner time he had the same unpleasant experience, believing that Freya was going to appear every time that an unknown hand or a vague silhouette of a woman pushed the door open from the other side of the opaque glass.

He strolled up and down the vestibule a long time, chewing rabidly on a cigar, and finally decided to accost the porter, an astute brunette whose blue lapels embroidered with keys of gold were peeping over the edge of his writing desk, taking in everything, informing himself of everything, while he appeared to be asleep.

The approach of Ulysses made him spring up as though he heard the rustling of paper money.  His information was very precise.  The signora Talberg very seldom ate at the hotel.  She had some friends who were occupying a furnished flat in the district of Chiaja, with whom she usually passed almost the entire day.  Sometimes she did not even return to sleep....  And he again sat down, his hand closing tightly upon the bill which his imagination had foreseen.