Dragon's Teeth by Eça de Queirós

TWELVE days had passed since Jorge's departure; and Luiza, notwithstanding the heat and the dust, resolved to dress herself and pay a visit to Leopoldina, although she was well aware that Jorge would be displeased if he should come to know that she had done so. But she was so weary of her solitude! The time hung so heavy on her hands! In the morning, indeed, she had her household cares, her work, her toilet to occupy her, -- books to read. But in the evening! At the hour in which Jorge was accustomed to return from the office, it seemed to her as if solitude hemmed her in on all sides. His loud ring at the bell, his step in the hall, -- she missed them both. When night closed in she became sad without knowing why, and yielded herself, an unresisting prey, to the vague melancholy that oppressed her. When she seated herself at the piano, sorrowful airs seemed to flow from it at her touch, -- _cavatinas_ full of tears, with which the keys seemed of their own accord to moan. A thousand foolish fancies would then occur to her mind. And later in the night, unable to close her eyes, and suffocating with the heat, she was equally a prey to the terrors and agitations of her widowed state.

Unaccustomed to solitude, she rebelled against it. She thought for a moment of inviting her aunt Patrocinio, an aged relative who lived in Belem, to stay with her; she would thus at least have some companionship in her loneliness. But she dreaded, on the other hand, to have always before her the sorrowful and depressed countenance of the widow, as she sat at her knitting, her large spectacles, framed in tortoiseshell, resting on her aquiline nose.

This morning the image of Leopoldina had suddenly presented itself to her mind, and it pleased her to think that she was free to come and go, to chat with her friend, and to spend in agreeable companionship the hottest hours of the day. Then her thoughts reverted to Jorge, and she said to herself that she would write to him to return home at the earliest possible moment. What a good idea it would be to go herself to Evora, she thought, to arrive there at about three in the afternoon when he would have returned from his work, in his blue spectacles, covered with dust and exhausted by the heat, and give him a joyful surprise, embracing him before the astonished landlady. And in the evening to put on a light dress, and go out to see the town, leaning, somewhat fatigued by her journey, on his arm. Every one would gaze at her with surprise as she passed through the narrow and solitary streets. The men would come out of the shops at the sound of her footsteps. "Who can it be? " they would ask one another. "She is a lady from Lisbon," some one would say, -- "the wife of the engineer."

Luiza, absorbed in these fancies, and smiling to herself, was tying the ribbons of her gown before the looking-glass, when the door opened softly.

"Who is there? " she asked, turning round.

"Senhora, may I go and see the doctor? " asked Juliana in suffering accents.

"You may go, but do not stay long," answered Luiza. And looking at her gown sidewise in the glass, in order to add a few artistic touches to its folds, she continued, "Pull down my skirt -- a little more -- so. What is the matter with you?"

"Palpitations, Senhora, and an oppression on the chest. I passed a bad night."

Her countenance was, in truth, livid; the expression of her eyes was deathlike, and her body was bent with pain. She was attired in a well-worn black merino dress.

"Very well, go," said Luiza; "but first, put everything in order. And do not stay long, do you hear? " Juliana went back to the kitchen. This was a spacious apartment, situated at the back of the house, on the second story, and lighted by two bay-windows. The floor before the fireplace was paved with brick.

"She says that I may go, Senhora Joanna," said Juliana to the cook. "I am going to dress. The senhora is just finishing her toilet to go out."

The cook, rejoiced at this news, began to sing; then she applied herself to the task of shaking a well-worn carpet out of the window, during which operation she did not remove her eyes from a little yellow house opposite, with a large door. This was the workshop of Uncle João Galho, in which her sweetheart, Pedro, worked. Poor Joanna was in love with him. He was a tall, pale young man, of a sickly appearance. Joanna was a native of Avintes, in Minho, and the daughter of peasants, and this thin and anemic type, peculiar to Lisbon, had captivated her fancy and kindled a devouring flame in her heart. As she could not go out during the week, she would let him into the house by the back door, when she was alone; to which end she hung out on the balcony, as a signal, the old carpet, in whose threadbare texture could still be distinguished the shape of the stag's horns that had formed part of its original pattern.

Joanna was a robust girl, broad of chest and large of hip. Her hair, soaked in oil of sweet almonds, shone like jet. She was not very intelligent, but to make up for this she was obstinate, and that to an extreme degree. Her thick eyebrows made her eyes, that at this moment glowed with eagerness, appear still blacker than they really were.

"Ah," said Juliana, looking askance at her, and giving a little dry cough, "the Senhora Joanna has hung out the signal."

The cook turned red.

"What harm is there in that? " Juliana went on. "I wish I were in your place. You are perfectly right."