“Yes, you are right,” answered Luiza. “You shall see. It is necessary to put an end to this.”
She hurried upstairs to the kitchen.
“Joanna, why did you not set the table when Juliana was not here to do it?” she cried.
The girl said she had not heard the Senhora Juliana going out. She thought she was downstairs in the parlor, as Juliana wanted to do everything herself now!
When Joanna placed the breakfast on the table a short time afterwards, Jorge sat down, nervously twisting his mustache. Twice he rose, smiling silently, first to get a spoon, and then the sugar-bowl. Luiza noted the contraction of his countenance, and tried in vain to eat; she felt as if every mouthful would choke her; the teaspoon trembled in her hand. She stole a glance from time to time at Jorge, whose silence made her suffer keenly.
“You said yesterday you were going to dine out to-day?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered shortly; adding, “Thank Heaven!”
“You are in a good humor!” murmured Luiza.
“As you see!”
Luiza turned pale, and took up the newspaper to hide a tear that trembled on her lashes; but the letters danced before her eyes, and she felt her heart oppressed with anguish. Suddenly there was a ring at the bell. It was Juliana, without doubt.