“He is a great soul,” declared the counsellor, with emphasis. He censured him somewhat, he continued, for not making himself useful to his country. “For after all,” he ended, “to play the piano is a very pretty accomplishment, but it does not give one a position in society.” And he adduced, as an example worthy to be followed, Ernesto, who, although dedicating himself to the dramatic art, was—here his voice took on a graver accent—is, an excellent employee in the custom-house.
They inquired what Ernesto was doing.
Julião had met him a short time since. He had told him then that “Love and Honor” would be brought out within a fortnight, and in the Rua dos Condes they already called him the Portuguese Dumas fils.
“I am not acquainted with that author,” said the counsellor, gravely; “but from his name he would appear to be the son of the famous writer, the author of the ‘Three Guardsmen,’ and other works of the imagination. Be that as it may, however, our Ledesma is a skilful exponent of the art of Corneille. Am I not right, Donna Luiza?”
“Yes,” she answered, smiling vaguely.
She seemed preoccupied. Twice she went to see what time it was by the clock in her bedroom. Almost ten, and Juliana had not yet returned! Who was to serve the tea? She herself went to the closet for the cups and saucers; when she returned to the parlor, observing that her guests were dull and silent,—
“Shall I play something?” she said.
Donna Felicidade, who, seated beside Julião, was examining the engravings of a “Dante” illustrated by Doré, the leaves of which she was turning over as it rested on her lap, said to her suddenly,—
“Have you seen this, Luiza? How pretty!”
Luiza drew near, and looked at the engraving.