Joanna went about the kitchen, singing. In the pauses of her song could be heard the soft and tender cooing of the doves.
“Come, come; this is going on very well,” said Juliana.
She cleaned her teeth slowly with her tongue as she sat, her gaze fixed and dilated, plunged in thought; then she rose, took off her apron, and went down to Luiza’s room. Her searching glance descried in a moment the keys of the pantry, which Luiza had forgotten, lying on the bureau. She might have gone upstairs, drunk a glass of good wine and eaten a few spoonfuls of preserve; but she was devoured by an insatiable curiosity, and, walking on tiptoe, she went softly to the parlor door and put her eye to the keyhole. The portière was drawn on the inside, and she could hear nothing but the gay and animated accents of the visitor; she crossed the hall and went to the door beside the staircase. The key was in the lock, and she put her ear to the keyhole. The portière within was also drawn.
“Those cunning devils have taken care to secure everything,” she said to herself. Then she thought she heard a chair move, and afterwards the closing of a window. Her eyes glittered. She heard again the continuous murmur of a conversation carried on in low tones. All at once the gentleman raised his voice, and among the phrases which he pronounced, evidently walking up and down the room, Juliana heard clearly these words,—“You; it was you!”[5]
“What shamelessness!” she thought.
A timid tin tin of the bell startled her, and she went, running, to open the door. It was Sebastião, his face flushed with the heat, his boots covered with dust.
“Is your mistress at home?” he asked, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
“The mistress is with a visitor, Senhor Sebastião,” said Juliana,—“a young gentleman who was here yesterday,” she added, in a lower voice, closing the door. “Shall I tell her you are here?”
“No, no, thank you. Good-day.” And he went down the steps slowly and thoughtfully.
Juliana took up her station again beside the door, her ear close to the keyhole and her hands behind her back; but she could hear nothing of the conversation, which was carried on in a low voice, but a soft and confused murmur. She went upstairs to the kitchen.