“Ah! And is he still as handsome as ever?”
“He is not ugly.”
“Ah!”
Luiza hastened to ask her if her check gown was finished yet. She said it had not yet been sent home. They began to speak of gowns, stuffs, shops, purchases. Then the roast meat was brought. Leopoldina’s cheeks were now of a vivid red. She asked Juliana to bring her her fan, and leaning back in her chair, declared she was as happy as a princess. She drank her wine in little sips. What a good idea it had been to dine together!
When Juliana had placed the fruit on the table, Luiza told her that she might retire, and that they would ask for coffee when they wanted it. She went herself and closed the door leading into the parlor, and drew the portière.
“How tiresome that Juliana is!” she said. “I cannot raise my eyes without seeing her. It makes me feel rebellious to see her always beside me!”
“And why do you not dismiss her?”
“Because Jorge does not wish it. If it were not for that—”
“Husbands should have no will of their own,” Leopoldina protested.
She took a bite out of a peach, and declared that she detested men who troubled themselves about the servants, the kitchen, the oil, the vinegar—