Sometimes, when in her room alone, she would look out of the window thinking of what the neighbors would say when they should know all. Would they condemn her? Would they pity her? Would they cry, “What a shameless creature!” or “What an unfortunate woman!” Behind her window-blinds she followed with her glance the promenades of Senhor Paula on the pavement below, the heavy immobility of the coal-vender at her door, and the movements of the three Azevedos behind their window-curtains. They would all exclaim, “Did we not say so?” How horrible! At other times she suddenly fancied she saw Jorge standing before her, terrible in his anger, with her letters in his hand, and she drew back as if she felt the physical pain of his blows. But what most troubled her was the tranquillity of Juliana, as the latter went about her work singing, or waited on her at table in her white apron. What were her secret intentions? What was she plotting? At times an access of rage seized her. If she were strong and brave she would throw herself upon this woman, take her by the throat, and tear her letters from her. But unfortunately she had no more strength than a child.
One morning as she was indulging in thoughts like these Juliana came into the room, with a black silk dress of her mistress’s hanging over her arm. She laid it on the sofa and showed Luiza, close by the lowest flounce, a rent that looked as if it had been cut with a knife; she had come to ask, she said, if the senhora wanted to send it to the dressmaker’s.
Luiza remembered that she had torn it one morning on her way to meet Bazilio.
“That is easily mended,” said Juliana, passing her hand caressingly over the silk.
Luiza hesitated. “It is scarcely worth while,” she answered at last; “it is no longer new. You may keep it for yourself.”
Juliana trembled and flushed with pleasure.
“Oh, Senhora!” she exclaimed. “I am very much obliged to you. It is a handsome present. I am very much obliged to you, Senhora; really—”
Her emotion rendered her unable to proceed. She took up the gown and carried it to the kitchen. Luiza followed her stealthily, and heard her say, very much excited, to Joanna,—
“See what a present! Nothing could be finer! It is almost new, and of very good silk.”
She trailed the skirt along the floor, listening to the delightful frou-frou it made. She had always wished for, and now she possessed, a silk gown of her own.