“I was at one time, I will not deny it; when I was a young man I played the flute,—youthful follies,” he said, with a benevolent gesture. “Were you playing something new, Donna Luiza?”
“No, on the contrary, something very old,—the ‘Fisherman’s Daughter,’ of Meyerbeer.”
Luiza closed the windows and seated herself at the piano. “Sebastião plays admirably, does he not, Counsellor?”
“Our Sebastião,” responded the counsellor, in a voice of authority, “is the equal of Thalberg and of Liszt. Do you know him?” he added, addressing Bazilio.
“No, I do not know him.”
“A pearl among men.”
Bazilio slowly approached the piano, with his hands in his pockets.
“Do you still sing?” Luiza asked him, smiling.
“When I am alone.”
The counsellor immediately asked him for a song. Bazilio laughed, saying that he was afraid of shocking an old habitué of the S. Carlos.