“Yes; the husband forgives her. He obtains a diplomatic mission, and goes to live abroad. It is more natural.”
“Assuredly,” Luiza assented in confusion.
“The piece ends by the Count of Monte Redondo, the lover, saying, ‘He has gone to die in solitude, the victim of this fatal passion.’ It produces a great effect.” And looking at her a moment, he added, “Good-by, Cousin. Remembrances to Jorge.”
CHAPTER XII.
BROUGHT TO BAY.
HOW heavily did the solitude of her room weigh upon Luiza in the evening! She felt impatient to renew the sensations of the past few hours. She tried to read, but after a few moments threw the book aside. The candles on her dressing-table seemed to burn with a melancholy light. She went to the window to look out at the night; the air was calm and still. She called Juliana.
“Put on your shawl,” she said; “I want you to accompany me to Donna Leopoldina’s.”
On arriving there, Justina told them that her mistress had gone to Oporto, and would remain away a fortnight.
Luiza arose on the following morning feeling very happy. She felt, indeed, a vague sense of shame at all the follies of the day before, and almost resolved to meet Bazilio no more. But her desires, which impelled her to go, furnished her with reasons for doing so. To remain away would be to offend Bazilio; the same reasons that would prevent her seeing him to-day ought to prevent her seeing him any more; and to see Bazilio no more—she could not bear the thought! Besides, the beauty of the morning inspired her with a longing to go out into the open air; it had rained during the night, and there was a pleasant freshness in the atmosphere. At half-past eleven she was going down the Moinho de Vento, when she observed the dignified figure of the Counsellor Accacio advancing slowly up the Rua da Rosa, his umbrella closed, his head erect. When he saw her he hastened his steps, and bowing profoundly, said,—
“A truly fortunate meeting!”
“How do you do, Counsellor? What a wonder it is to see you!”