At the end of Ouro Street the coupé was stopped by a number of vehicles blocking up the way, and Luiza saw, standing close to her, Castro,—Castro of the eye-glasses, the banker who Leopoldina had said was in love with her; a boy was trying to sell him a lottery ticket, and Castro, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, was joking with the urchin with the disdainful familiarity of a rich man, and casting furtive glances at Luiza, at the same time, from behind his gold eye-glasses. She stole a glance at him from under her long lashes. This man admired her. How horrible! He inspired her with repugnance, with his prominent paunch and his short legs. The recollection of Bazilio’s handsome face came vividly to her mind, and she tapped at the carriage-window, impatient to see him once more.
The coupé at last drove on. The sun shone brightly as they drove through Rocio; the passengers were disembarking hurriedly from the steamboat,—some from Belem, others from Pedrouços; the hucksters were crying aloud their wares. Every one was returning to home and happiness; she only was leaving both.
At last the coupé stopped. The mistress of the house appeared at the door, saying she was very sorry, but the gentleman had the keys of the apartment, and if the senhora wished to rest a few moments in her room—At this moment another carriage drove up, and Bazilio descended from it.
“So you have come at last!” he exclaimed, as they entered the house together and went upstairs. “And why did you not come yesterday?”
“Ah, if you knew what has happened!”
He caught her by the arm and looked at her intently.
“Bazilio, I am lost!”
“What has happened?” he cried, as they entered the apartment.
Luiza, throwing her satchel on the sofa, told him in a breath of the letter Juliana had found among the waste-papers, of these she had stolen from her drawer, and of the scene of yesterday.
“There is nothing left for me but to fly,” she ended. “Here I am; take me with you. You have often urged me to fly with you,—now I am ready. I have brought this satchel with the most necessary articles,—gloves, handkerchiefs. What do you say?”