He sought to justify his intervention, happy in seeing her pacified. He reminded her that a complete intrigue is often fabricated out of a word, and that being forewarned—
“You are right, Sebastião,” she repeated. “You have done well to let me know.”
She sat down. Her eyes still sparkled, and from time to time she passed her handkerchief over her lips.
“But, finally, what ought I to do, Sebastião?” she asked.
“I am at a loss to say, my dear friend!” He was moved at seeing her thus yield and ask to be advised, and he reproached himself for disturbing, by his interference, the pleasure of her friendly relations with her cousin.
“It is clear,” he said, “that you ought to receive your cousin; but it is well to observe a certain reserve in the matter, on account of the neighbors. In your place I should tell him—I should say to him—”
“But tell me,” she interrupted, casting down her eyes, “what do these people say?”
“They ask one another, ‘What is the matter?’ ‘What is going on?’ ‘Who enters the house?’ ‘Who leaves it?’”
“I have already said so to Jorge,” cried Luiza, rising abruptly; “and not only once, but many times. It is impossible to live in this street; a leaf cannot stir without being noticed.”
“It cannot be helped.”