“Compose yourself.”
“Oh, Sebastião! Sebastião!” he cried, in a voice that had the sound of tears in it.
Luiza called to them from the parlor,—
“What are you plotting together there in the dark?”
Sebastião returned to the parlor, saying,—
“Nothing; we remained inside a moment.” And he added, in a lower voice, “Jorge is tired, and not very well.”
They noticed, when Jorge re-entered the room, that he looked very tired.
“In fact, I do not feel well,” he said. “I am a little out of sorts.”
“And the delicate Donna Luiza needs the repose of her couch,” said the counsellor, rising.
Ernesto, who could remain no longer, placed his carriage—a modest coach—at the disposal of Julião and the counsellor, if they were going towards the city.