Luiza hesitated.
“Do not refuse me!”
“But where?”
“Wherever you wish. To Paço d’Arcos, to Loires, to Queluz. Say yes.” His voice was urgent and entreating. “What are you afraid of? We take a friendly drive together, as brother and sister might do.”
She smiled.
“No, not that!”
Bazilio grew angry and called her a prude. He rose to go away. Then, half-vanquished, she took his hat out of his hands.
“Well, we shall see. Perhaps,” she said, smiling.
“Say yes,” insisted Bazilio. “Be a good girl.”
“Well, yes; we will speak about it to-morrow, and then we shall see.”