“He’s gone into town. And yours?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“The sleep of the just?” asked Carlota with a mischievous smile.

“Apparently,” said Augusta.

At this point, Adelaide, who, at Carlota’s request, had gone over to the piano to play a nocturne, rejoined them.

Augusta’s friend said to her:

“I bet you’ve already got a sweetheart in your sights.”

Greatly embarrassed, Adelaide blushed deeply and said:

“Don’t say such things.”

“I’m sure you do; either that or you’re getting to the age when you certainly will have a sweetheart, and I’m telling you now that he’ll be very handsome.”

“It’s still too early for that,” said Augusta.

“Early!”

“Yes, she’s only a child. She’ll get married when she’s ready, but that won’t be for a while yet.”

“I see,” said Carlota, laughing, “you want to prepare her. And I entirely approve, but in that case, don’t take her dolls away from her.”

“Oh, she’s given up dolls already.”

“Then it will be very hard to fend off any sweethearts. One thing replaces the other.”

Augusta smiled, and Carlota got up to leave.

“Are you going already?” said Augusta.

“Yes, I must. Bye-bye.”

“’Bye!”

They exchanged kisses, and Carlota left.

Immediately afterward, two delivery boys arrived: one bearing some dresses and the other a novel, all of which had been ordered the day before. The dresses had cost a fortune, and the book was Ernest-Aimé Feydeau’s novel Fanny, a satire on society manners.

II

At about one in the afternoon that same day, Vasconcelos rose from his bed.

He was about forty, good-looking, and endowed with a magnificent pair of graying side-whiskers, which gave him the air of a diplomat, something that he was a million miles from being. He had a smiling, expansive face, and positively oozed robust health.

He possessed a decent fortune and did not work, or, rather, he worked very hard at squandering said fortune, with his wife as enthusiastic collaborator.

Adelaide had been quite right about her father; he went to bed late, always woke up after midday, and left again in the evening, only to return the following morning in the early hours, which is to say that he made regular brief visits to the family home.

Only one person had the right to demand that Vasconcelos become a more assiduous visitor, and that was Augusta; but she said nothing. They got on well enough, though, because the husband, as a reward for his wife’s tolerant behavior, denied her nothing and every whim of hers was quickly granted.