Eight days later Bonis not know himself, and rejoiced: moreover, thought or known.

Serafina was his, and he, of course, was Serafina, as far as could be that miserable slave of his wife. Pats as the Italian-English, Reyes nor dreamed. “I never thought it could get physical pleasure so there!” Said tasting it alone, brooding, the delights of love unheard of those artist. Yes, she had secured the love of the artists was so extreme, crazy in delight, passed by a slope of rapture sweet ideal, quasi-mystic, unbridled sensuality ….

In short, he saw visions, but how beautiful, how delicious! I had to confess that “the animal, beast, brute, he was much more developed than I had believed.” Bonis not think that the harmless flutist smelling almond oil, had within himself that was left turcazo voluptuous love the art style so richly Eastern. And yet, the soul, pure spirit, watched, yes, watched!, And Serafina was the first to maintain that the sacred fire of poetry. “Kissing with music! He who knows not what this is does not know what is good. Deny that there are moral rebuke entitled to my passion, if such has never liked this delight, kissing music !…». But the greatest charm, the ecstasy of joy, was elsewhere, in the intimate joy of gratified pride.

-Serafina loves me, loves me, I’m sure, cries of pleasure in my arms, no pretense, no, in the scene do not know so well, really loves me, liked, liked and physical and moral, we say so.

And where would the greater glory to like it, the dream woman, whom he loved as mother and lover and muse in one piece?