And she added with decision, “Bring me some garlic, Senhora Juliana, and plenty of it.” And when the servant went out, she added, “I should like to go by-and-by to make a visit, but—so much the worse. Ah, thanks, Juliana,” as the latter returned with the garlic. “There is nothing like garlic.”
She crushed the garlic between her fingers against the plate, and sprinkled the pieces of codfish with oil, with a serious air. “Divine!” she exclaimed.
She filled her glass anew, declaring that this was a holiday. “But what is the matter with you?” she said abruptly, looking at Luiza.
Luiza, in truth, seemed preoccupied. She had more than once smothered a sigh, and on two occasions had risen uneasily from her chair, saying to Juliana,—
“I think the bell rang; go see.”
There was no one at the door.
“Who could ring?” said Leopoldina. “Were you expecting your husband?”
“Oh, no!”
“And your cousin, does he come to see you?”
“Yes,” answered Luiza, blushing; “he has been here several times.”