“Something horrible, Leopoldina,” returned Luiza, clasping her hands together.
The other-closed the door quickly.
“What is it?” she said.
But Luiza continued to cry without answering her. Leopoldina gazed at her in astonishment.
“Juliana stole some letters from me,” she said at last, between her sobs. “She demands six hundred thousand reis for them. I am lost! My life is a martyrdom. I want you to help me,—to try if you can think of anything. I am almost crazy. It is I who do all the work of the house; I can bear it no longer.” And her tears flowed afresh.
“And your jewels?”
“They might be worth two hundred thousand reis. And what should I say to Jorge?”
Leopoldina was silent for a moment; then, glancing around the apartment, and opening wide her arms, she said,—
“All I possess, my dear, is not worth twenty pounds!”
Luiza, drying her eyes, murmured,—