A shadow darkened the window for a moment. She trembled. It was a cat walking stealthily on the edge of the roof. She replaced the things in the trunk exactly as she had found them, locked it, and was about to leave the room, when it occurred to her to search in the drawer of the table and under the pillow. Nothing! She grew angry; she would not go away until she had lost all hope; she shook out the bed-clothing, the straw mattress; she looked in every corner of the room; still nothing!
The bell rang suddenly, and she ran downstairs quickly. What a surprise! It was Donna Felicidade!
“Is it you? How are you? Come in!” exclaimed Luiza.
She was better, as she told Luiza in the hall. She had left the Encarnação the day before. Her foot still pained her, but, thank Heaven! she had been able to leave. Her first visit was for Luiza. It was growing dark. They entered the bedroom, and Luiza lighted the candles.
“How do you think I look?” asked Donna Felicidade, standing in front of Luiza.
“A little paler.”
Ah, she had suffered a great deal, she said. She raised the skirt of her gown and showed Luiza her foot, encased in a shoe much too large for her, which she obliged her to touch with her hand. She had one consolation, however,—that half Lisbon had gone to see her, thank God! Yes, all Lisbon,—the better part of Lisbon. “And you did not make your appearance there the whole of last week,” she ended.
“I was not able to go, my dear. Jorge is coming home to-morrow.”
“Ah, you little rogue! That is well. That little heart—” And she whispered in Luiza’s ear.
They both laughed.