The wrong that you have done me!...

I who loved you so much!...
However much you may hunt in your voyages and in your wicked adventures, you will never find a woman that loves you as your wife has loved you." Her past of modest and submissive affection, of supine and tolerant fidelity, now issued from her mouth in one interminable complaint.
"From our home my thoughts have followed you in all your voyages, although I knew your forgetfulness and your infidelity.

All the papers found in your pockets, and photographs lost among your books, the allusions of your comrades, your smiles of pride, the satisfied air with which you many times returned, the series of new manners and additional care of your person that you did not have when you left, told me all....

I also suspected in your bold caresses the hidden presence of other women who lived far away on the other side of the world." She stopped her turbulent language for a few moments, letting the blush which her memories evoked fade away.
"I loathed it all," she continued.

"I know the men of the sea; I am a sailor's daughter.