“How much I have enjoyed myself!”
When she was alone she opened the blinds, lighted the candles, and began to walk up and down the floor. Presently she seated herself languidly at the piano, and began to sing sotto voce, and with sorrowful intonation, the fado of Leopoldina,—
“And still his presence do I feel
Beside me, though he absent be.”
This picture of solitude and abandonment saddened her. What tedium,—to be always alone! The beauty of the night, warm and tranquil, filled her with a longing to take a romantic walk, or to sit quietly in some garden, her hands clasped together, gazing at the heavens. What a stupid life she led! And Jorge—what an idea to go off to Alemtejo! Her conversation with Leopoldina recurred to her at every moment, and the effects of the champagne began to be felt in the feverish excitement of her blood. The clock in her dressing-room slowly struck nine, and at the same instant the bell rang. She was startled. It was too soon for Juliana to have returned. She listened in agitation; she could hear the sound of voices in conversation on the landing.
Joanna appeared in the doorway.
“Senhora,” she said in a low voice, “it is your cousin, who has come to say good-by.”
“Ask him to come in,” stammered Luiza, suppressing a cry.
Her large eyes were fixed eagerly, and with steadfast gaze, upon the door. The portière was raised, and Bazilio entered, pale and smiling.
“You are going away!” she said, standing in front of him.