He interrupted himself to say,—
“That is in order to inspire our poor Jorge with courage.”
He then continued:—
“Heaven has an angel more, and her spirit shines brightly—”
“Was there any one with Senhor Guedes?” asked the before-mentioned individual, shaking the ashes of his cigar on the marble.
The counsellor paused, pale with anger.
“That man must be a person of very low extraction,” he muttered, with an inflection of hatred in his voice.
The waiter spoke in shrill accents from behind the counter,—
“He was accompanied by a Spanish lady who lives up the street,—a thin lady with curls, and a red mantle.”
“Lola!” said the other, in a satisfied tone, delivering himself up with enjoyment to his recollections of the aforesaid lady.