When he had gone, Luiza approached the window. She saw him light his cigar in the street, speak to the driver, enter the coupé and hastily shut the door,—all without one glance towards her! The carriage rolled away. She should see him no more! Their hearts had palpitated with an equal love; they had shared the same fault. He went gayly away, carrying with him the romantic souvenirs of this episode in his life; she remained behind with the ineffaceable bitterness of her fall. Such was the world! She felt a sharp pang of anguish at the thought of her solitary and deserted condition. She was alone, and life stretched out before her like an unknown plain, wrapped in mist and peopled with dangers. She went back with languid step to her room, and threw herself on the sofa; on the floor beside her lay the satchel she had prepared the day before for her flight; she opened it, and began to take out its contents; in the folds of an embroidered wrapper she found the likeness of Jorge. She held it in her hand, contemplating his loyal glance, his honest smile. No, she was not alone in the world! She still had him! He loved her, and he would never betray her nor abandon her! And convulsively pressing her lips to the likeness, she buried her face in the cushions of the sofa, crying, as she burst into bitter tears,—
“Jorge, dearest Jorge, forgive me!”
After dinner Joanna came to her and said,—
“Does not the senhora think it would be well to make some inquiries about the Senhora Juliana?”
“How is one to inquire?”
“She goes once in a while to see a friend of hers who lives in the direction of the Carmo. Perhaps she has had an attack of some kind, not to have sent any message since yesterday morning. I might go and see.”
“Very well; go.”
This sadden disappearance disturbed Luiza also. Where was Juliana? What was she doing? It seemed to Luiza that some terrible plot was being concocted against her, that would by-and-by burst with terrible force upon her head.
Night fell, and she lighted the candles. She experienced a vague feeling of terror at finding herself alone in the house, and pacing up and down the room, her thoughts wandered to Bazilio, at this time joyfully buying his ticket in Santa Apolonia, then entering the cars and lighting his cigar, and then being carried away from her forever. For she had no faith in this absence of three weeks or a month. No; he was going away forever; he was flying from her, and although she now regarded him with hatred, she yet felt that through this desertion her heart had received a wound that was bleeding painfully.
It was almost nine o’clock when the bell rang hastily. Thinking it was Joanna who had returned, Luiza took a candlestick in her hand, and went to open the door. She drew back quickly on seeing Juliana, her countenance livid and stamped with Suffering.