Dragon's Teeth by Eça de Queirós

AT about four in the afternoon Sebastião went again to Luiza's. He found the same gentleman with her as before. He went away thoughtful, without seeing her. No doubt the visitor had come on some business of Jorge's; for Sebastião could not comprehend that Luiza should think, speak, or feel, except with reference to the interests of the household, and with Jorge's happiness in view. But the business must be a serious one to be the occasion of so many visits. Could anything of importance affect their interests and he not know of it? This seemed to him a piece of ingratitude on their part, and a diminution of their friendship for him.

Aunt Joanna noticed that something was the matter with him.

"A headache," he said, in answer to her inquiries. That night he slept badly. Next day he learned that the gentleman was her Cousin Bazilio, -- Bazilio de Brito. His uncertainty was at an end, but a more definite fear took possession of him.

Sebastião did not know Bazilio personally, but he knew the story of his youthful days. It is true that in this there was neither any exceptional scandal nor any piquant history. Bazilio had been simply a _viveur_, and as such had passed methodically through all the traditional episodes of Lisbon life, -- parties of _monte_ lasting till daylight, in the companionship of the wealthy _bourgeois_ of Alemtejo; a carriage dashed to pieces on a Saturday at the bull-fights; dinners with some Lola or Carmen, followed by a lobster salad; a bull caught by the horns, applauses in the circus of Salvaterra or in Alhandra; nights spent in the taverns with guitar-players, eating codfish and drinking Collares; and a shower of flour eggs, thrown in the face of one of the municipal authorities during the Carnival. The only women who appeared in this story, with the exception of the Lolas and the Carmens, were la Pistelli, a German dancer with the legs of an athlete, and the little Countess of Alvini, a feather-head, and a great Amazon, who had separated from her husband after having given him a beating, and who once dressed in male attire to drive a coach from Rocio to Dá Fundo. All this was enough to make Sebastião regard him as a rake, as one who had already gone to destruction. He had heard that he was obliged to fly to Brazil from his creditors, and that he became rich by chance through a speculation in Paraguay; that not even when his fortunes were at their lowest ebb, in Bahia, would he devote himself persistently to work; and he took it for granted that the possession of a fortune would be the means of developing his vices. And this man came every day to see Luiza, staying with her for hours, accompanying her to the Passeio, with what purpose it was only too evident.

He was going down the street, oppressed by the weight of these thoughts, when he heard a hoarse voice saying in respectful tones, --

"Senhor Sebastião!"

It was Paula the furniture-dealer.

"I hope you are well, Senhor João."

Paula spat on the pavement, and with his hands crossed behind him under the long skirts of his coat, said gravely, --

"Senhor Sebastião, is there any one sick in the house of the Senhor Engineer?"

"No," returned Sebastião, in a tone of surprise. "Why?"

Paula coughed, spat again, and said, --

"Because I have observed a gentleman entering the house every day, and I thought it might be the doctor, -- one of those new homœopaths."

Sebastião turned scarlet.

"No," he responded; "it is the cousin of Donna Luiza."

"Ah! " said Paula. "I thought -- Excuse me, Senhor Sebastião."

And he bowed respectfully.

"They begin to gossip already," thought Sebastião, as he continued on his way.

He returned home ill at ease. He lived in an old-fashioned house with a garden, belonging to himself. Sebastião lived alone. He possessed a small fortune in bonds, arable land, and his villa in Almada called the Rozegal. His two servants had been with him for many years; the cook was a negress from St. Thomas who had been in the service of the family since before his mother's death; Joanna the housekeeper had served in the house for thirty-five years, and still called Sebastião the _little one_. She had now all the caprices of a child, but she was treated with the respect that might be shown to a grandmother. She was from Oporto, -- _Poarto_, as she called it, for she had not lost her native accent. The friends of Sebastião called her _uma velha de comedia_. She was short and stout, with a round and jovial face, a smile full of kindness, hair white as flax, gathered in a knot on the top of her head, and fastened by an antique tortoiseshell comb; and she always wore a large white kerchief, freshly ironed, around her shoulders. She went about the house from morning till night, shuffling her feet and jingling her keys, repeating proverbs and taking pinches of snuff from a round box, on the lid of which was a picture of the hanging bridge of Oporto.

There was something in the aspect of the whole house that called an involuntary smile to the lips. The immense sofa and the easy-chairs reminded one of the days of José I., and the damask covering, of a faded red, recalled the pomp of a decrepit court; on the walls of the dining-room hung engravings of Napoleon's battles, in all of which was to be seen the white horse standing on a height, towards which a hussar of high rank galloped furiously, brandishing his sabre.