And he was not carrying arms.
The smiling woman again presented herself with the same slippery smoothness.
"Come in, Don Ulysses." She had opened a door, and Ferragut on advancing felt that this door was locked behind him.
The first thing that he could see was a window, broader than it was high, of colored glass.

A Valkyrie was galloping across it, with lance in rest and floating locks, upon a black steed that was expelling fire through its nostrils.

In the diffused light of the stained glass he could distinguish tapestries on the walls and a deep divan with flowered cushions.
A woman arose from the soft depths of this couch, rushing towards Ferragut with outstretched arms.

Her impulse was so violent that it made her collide with the captain.

Before the feminine embrace could close around him he saw a panting mouth, with avid teeth, eyes tearful with emotion, a smile that was a mixture of love and painful disquietude.
"You!...