The rest of her body remained like a rag on the rug.
There was a long silence, interrupted from time to time by groans of pain.

Freya was moaning with closed eyes, without coming out of her inertia.
The sailor, scowling with a tragic ugliness, and transported with rage, remained immovable, looking grimly at the fallen creature.

He was satisfied with his brutality; it had been an opportune relief; he could breathe better.

At the same time he was beginning to feel ashamed of himself.

"What have you done, you coward ?..." For the first time in his existence he had struck a woman.
He raised his aching right hand to his eyes.