He loved her and called to her.
And when he thought that he was loved, that she might do with willingness all that he wished of her, sore and endless sorrow seized him, and a kind of deep tenderness flooded his heart, like a mighty wave.

But there were moments, too, in which he grew pale from rage, and delighted in thoughts of the humiliation and tortures which he would inflict on Lygia when he found her.

He wanted not only to have her, but to have her as a trampled slave.

At the same time he felt that if the choice were left him, to be her slave or not to see her in life again, he would rather be her slave.

There were days in which he thought of the marks which the lash would leave on her rosy body, and at the same time he wanted to kiss those marks.