“I think it is worthy of her and of me.”
They left the coffee-house in silence. The night was dark. A cold northeast wind was blowing, and the ground was still wet from the recent rain. Julião paused suddenly as they reached Loreto, and said:—
“I forgot! Have you heard the news, Counsellor? Donna Felicidade is going to retire to the Encarnação.”
“Ah!”
“So she has just told me. I had been to see her before making my visit in the Rua da Rosa. She has a slight fever,—nothing serious, the agitation, the fright. She herself told me so; to-morrow she enters the Encarnação.”
“I always thought that lady had retrogressive ideas,” said the counsellor. “It is the result of the machinations of the Jesuits, my friend.” And he added in the melancholy tone of a discontented liberal, “The reaction is already beginning to take place.”
Julião took him familiarly by the arm and said, smiling,—
“What reaction are you talking of? Why, it is on your account, ingrate!”
The counsellor stood still.
“What does my worthy friend wish to insinuate?” he said.