Then suddenly everything grew dark, while Juliana continued her flight around and around the room with her bat’s wings.
CHAPTER XVII.
JORGE’S RETURN.
IN returning to Luiza’s house Juliana had followed the advice of Aunt Victoria.
“The bird has flown, my dear,” the latter had said to her. “It is a pity, for you might have made a good sum out of the affair; but who could have guessed that the lover would go away? You can do nothing now but mourn your loss, for you won’t be able to get so much as that”—indicating the point of her nail—“out of her.”
“But I can show the letters to her husband, Aunt Victoria.”
The old woman shrugged her shoulders.
“You will gain nothing by that. Suppose they separate; suppose he ill treats her or puts her in a convent; what do you gain by that? And if they make up you are left in the lurch, and you get nothing from either side. And this supposing things to turn out well; for it is not at all impossible that you should find yourself the richer by a good beating.” And she added, seeing the look of dismay on Juliana’s countenance, “It would not be the first time such a thing has happened, my dear. A great many things take place in Lisbon that never find their way into the papers.”
What she ought by all means to do, according to Aunt Victoria, was to return to the house. For what was there now left of the whole matter? Nothing but the fears of Donna Luiza; and of these it was that she must now avail herself.
“You return to the house,” she continued, “and wait there the fulfilment of her promise to you. If she gives you the money, well and good; if she does not, you are there on the spot, and you can go picking up whatever Providence may chance to throw in your way.”
Juliana hesitated. It would be hard to live under the same roof with her mistress without having continual disputes with her.