“According to this you are going away.”
“It is unavoidable.”
“And when?”
“To-night.”
Luiza rose abruptly, and extending her hand, said: “Very well; good-by.”
“You are cruel, Luiza,” murmured Bazilio. “No matter. But there is a question that must be settled. Have you spoken to that woman?”
“It is all arranged,” she responded, frowning. Bazilio took her hand in his and said, almost with solemnity,—
“My dear, I know that you are proud, but I ask you to tell me the truth; I do not want to leave you in difficulties. Have you spoken to her?”
Luiza drew away her hand impatiently.
“I tell you that it is all arranged,” she answered.