“Good-by,” he said to Julião, in a low voice.
“Good-by, Sebastião, good-by,” returned Julião, promptly.
He accompanied him to the head of the stairs.
“Ah, when do you think I had better speak to my cousin?” said Sebastião in a low voice.
“Ah, yes; we shall see; I will think about it,” returned Julião with an air of indifference, as if his pride in his labors had dissipated his fear of being treated with injustice.
Sebastião went downstairs in silence, thinking it useless to say anything to Julião now. But an idea suddenly presented itself to his mind. What if he were to speak to Donna Felicidade, to consult with her frankly? Donna Felicidade, it is true, was not very wise, but she was a woman of mature years, and she was a friend of Luiza. She had more influence with her, besides being possessed of more tact. He made up his mind to do so, called a carriage, and drove to the street of S. Bento. The servant of Donna Felicidade made her appearance at the door, tearful and disconsolate.
“But do you not know what has happened?” she said.
“No.”
“Ah, it seems impossible!”
“But what is it?”