“So you have had a visitor.”
Luiza colored faintly. She was at her toilet; her hair was already arranged, and she was attired in a gown of light fabric, trimmed with lace.
“Leopoldina was here,” she said; “Juliana admitted her, though she was evidently not very much pleased with the visit. She came to inquire the address of the French milliner, and she remained but a short time. Who told you of it?” she ended.
“Juliana. Leopoldina was here the whole afternoon.”
“The whole afternoon!” repeated Luiza. “What nonsense! She was here scarcely ten minutes at the utmost.”
Jorge took off his gloves without answering a word. He approached one of the windows and began to finger the leaves of a pale rose-colored begonia. He whistled softly, and seemed to be intently occupied in detaching a bud of the amaryllis, hidden among the brilliant foliage, and resembling in color the yellowish stalk of the plant itself.
Luiza was engaged in fastening around her neck a gold locket with a black velvet ribbon. Her hands trembled slightly, and her face was flushed.
“Has the heat given you a headache?” she asked her husband.
Jorge did not answer. He whistled louder than before, and went over to the other window. There he busied himself in fingering the flexible leaves of a mahonias, of variegated red and green. Then, suddenly putting his hand to his throat as if he felt himself suffocating,—
“Listen,” he said to Luiza. “You must give up the acquaintance of that creature. This must end at once and forever.”