“It would be better for him if he had boots.”
“I find him very amusing, for my part,” said Luiza, without venturing to contradict Bazilio.
“He is horrible, my dear child.”
These last words made her heart beat. Thus it was that he used to call her in former days. Before she could answer, the door-bell rang vigorously.
Luiza was disturbed. Good Heavens! if it should be Sebastião! Bazilio would find him still more common, still more vulgar than Julião.
Juliana came to say that the counsellor was outside.
“Shall I ask him to come in?” she added.
“Certainly,” said Luiza, delighted to find her fears unfounded.
The stately figure of the counsellor, in his alpaca coat and well-ironed white trousers that fell over his low shoes, advanced towards Luiza.
When she had presented Bazilio, he said to the latter, in accents of profound respect,—