How the captain hated her! How he wished to meet her and return a part of the harm she had done him!...
Upon seeing his wife, Ulysses imagined that no time had passed by.

He found her just as at parting, with her two nieces seated at her feet, making interminable, complicated blonde lace upon the cylindrical pillows supported on their knees.
The only novelty of the captain's stay in this dwelling of monastic calm was that Don Pedro abstained from his visits.

Cinta received her husband with a pallid smile.

In that smile he suspected the work of time.

She had continued thinking of her son every hour, but with a resignation that was drying her tears and permitting her to continue the deliberate mechanicalness of existence.