“No.”
“He had not written to me either for a long time past,” said Sebastião. “But to-day,” he added with a smile, “I received two letters from him together.”
He looked for them among several papers which he took from his breast-pocket. Luiza sat down on the sofa; she watched him with a beating heart, digging her nails into the cushion of the seat.
“Yes,” said Sebastião, turning over the papers, “I received two together, in which he says he is bored to death in Alemtejo, and speaks of coming home.” And, handing a letter to Luiza, “See—” he said.
Luiza unfolded the letter, and was about to read it, when Sebastião hastily interposed,—
“I beg your pardon; that is not the one.”
“No, but let me see it.”
“No, it is nothing—business—”
“No matter; I want to see it.”
Sebastião, seated on the edge of his chair, scratched his beard, looking at Luiza with a vexed expression.