And he again sat down, his hand closing tightly upon the bill which his imagination had foreseen.
After a bad night Ulysses arose, resolved to await the widow at the entrance to the hotel.

He took his breakfast at a little table in the vestibule, read the newspaper, had to go to the door in order to avoid the morning cleaning, pursued by the dust of brooms and shaken rugs.
And once there, he pretended to take great interest in the wandering musicians, who dedicated their love songs and serenades to him, rolling up the whites of their eyes upon presenting their hats for coins.
Some one came to keep him company.

It was the porter who now appeared very familiar and confidential, as though since the preceding night a firm friendship, based upon their secret, had sprung up between the two.
He spoke of the beauties of the country, counseling the Spaniard to take divers excursions....

A smile, an encouraging word from Ferragut, and he would have immediately proposed other recreations whose announcement appeared to be fluttering around his lips.

But the sailor repelled all such amiability, glowering with displeasure.