There was a moment of embarrassing silence. Bazilio twisted his mustache and looked around him.
“You are comfortably situated here,” he said at last.
She acknowledged that it was so. The house, although small, was commodious, and belonged to them.
“I find it all very comfortable,” said Bazilio. “Who is that lady with the gold spectacles?” he asked, yawning slightly, and pointing to a portrait on the wall, opposite the sofa.
“That is my husband’s mother.”
“Ah! Is she still alive?”
“No; she died some time ago.”
“That is the best thing a mother-in-law can do.”
He again yawned discreetly, glanced down at the pointed toes of his shoes, and with an abrupt movement took up his hat and rose.
“Are you going already?” said Luiza. “Where are you staying?”