“He left for Paris some time ago,” she answered.
Donna Felicidade and the counsellor both launched forth in praise of Bazilio. He had left cards on them; an attention that had delighted Donna Felicidade, and filled the counsellor with pride.
“He was a true gentleman!” she said; and Accacio confirmed the assertion with an air of authority.
“And he has a baritone worthy of the S. Carlos,” he declared in conclusion.
“And he is very distinguished-looking,” affirmed Donna Felicidade.
“A gentleman,” repeated the counsellor.
Julião rocked his leg in silence. Listening to these eulogistic expressions, his pique began to revive. He recalled the sarcastic coldness of Luiza on that morning, and the affectation of Bazilio, and he could not help saying,—
“He wears too much jewelry, and his embroidered stockings are not in very good taste; but I believe that is the fashion in Brazil.”
Luiza turned scarlet, and darted at him a glance full of animosity. There still remained in her mind a vague and melancholy recollection of Bazilio.
Donna Felicidade asked if any one had seen Sebastião lately. It was an age since she had seen him, she said, and she regretted it, for he was a person whom it always gave her pleasure to meet.