“For a letter that contained scarcely anything a gentleman who may be seen any day driving in the Chiado (I saw him myself driving there yesterday in company with a lady), paid three hundred thousand reis in good bank-notes. It was the lover who paid, of course. If it were any one but Brito I should say nothing; but he is rich, and a spendthrift.”
Juliana, pale with emotion, tremblingly caught Aunt Victoria by the arm.
“I would give you a silk gown, Aunt Victoria,” she said—
“A blue one. You see, I tell you even the color.”
“But Brito is not an easy man to deal with, Aunt Victoria; he might take the letters by force.”
“Do you think me a fool, then?” replied the other, disdainfully. “I shall not send the letters, but copies of them.”
And she added, after a momenta reflection,—
“You will return home—”
“No, I will not go back.”
“Perhaps you are right. Come and sleep here until we see how this is going to end, and dine with me to-day; we have a fine fish for dinner.”