“What is it?”
“The coachman.”
Luiza turned towards her, without comprehending.
“What coachman?”
“A coachman who says the senhora had no change, and told him to wait.”
“Ah!”
And in an instant, as the whole interior of an apartment is disclosed at once to view by the lighting of a lamp within it, so was her misfortune, in all its completeness, revealed now to her mental vision. She trembled so violently that she could scarcely open the drawer of the bureau.
“I had forgotten him,” she murmured.
She gave the money to Joanna, and dropping on the sofa,—
“I am lost!” she cried, pressing her head between her hands.