Dragon's Teeth by Eça de Queirós

ONE morning, some days afterwards, Jorge, who had forgotten that it was a feast-day, found the office closed, on going to the Department, and returned home. Joanna was standing at the door, talking to an old woman who was selling eggs. The hall door was open, and entering without ringing, he surprised Juliana comfortably seated on the sofa, reading the newspaper.

On seeing him she turned crimson, and rising to her feet stammered, --

"I am not to blame, Senhor; I have just had a violent palpitation, -- "

"So violent that you sat down to read the newspaper," returned Jorge, mechanically grasping his cane. "Where is the senhora?"

"She must be in the dining-room," answered Juliana, taking up the broom and hastily beginning to sweep.

Luiza was not in the dining-room. Jorge found her in the laundry, in a morning wrapper, her hair in disorder, very busy ironing, and with an expression of dejection on her countenance.

"Can it be possible that you are ironing? " he exclaimed.

Luiza colored, and laid down the iron. As Juliana was sick, she said, and the clothes had accumulated --

"Let us settle this matter at once," returned Jorge. "Who is mistress here, I should like to know, and who is servant?"

The sternness with which he spoke sent the color from Luiza's cheek. "What do you mean? " she stammered.

"I mean to say that I find you here ironing, while she is downstairs, sitting at her ease on the sofa, reading."

Luiza, bending over the clothes-basket in confusion, began to shake out the clothes and fold them with a trembling hand.

"You cannot imagine how much there is to be done," she said. "The cleaning, the ironing, the waiting at table. And that poor sick creature -- "

"If she is sick, let her go to the hospital!"

"No, you ought not to say that."

This insistence in defending Juliana, who was taking her ease downstairs, exasperated him.

"But what does this mean? Are you depending upon her? Any one would think you were afraid of her!"

"Ah, if you have come home in that humor," answered Luiza, with trembling lips, and ready to cry.

Jorge continued, with increasing vexation, --

"This indulgence must have an end! That this good-for-nothing should take her ease in my house, enjoying every comfort, stretching herself in my chairs, going out to amuse herself, and that you should take her part and do her work for her -- no! an end must be put to this. Always excuses, and more excuses! Let her go to the hospital -- or to the devil!"