Page:Brazilian short stories.djvu/64

 he ended rubbing his hands together in anticipation of revenge.

In pale Zilda's sinking heart, however, there flashed a ray of hope. The sombre night of her soul was lighted up by the moon-beam of a "who knows?” However, she did not dare to face her father's and brother's anger, for both had agreed upon a tremendous settling of accounts. She pinned her faith on a miracle and lit another little candle to Saint Anthony. …

The great day arrived. Trancoso entered the fazenda dancing up on the sorrel. Moreira went down to meet him below with his hands behind his back. Even before reining up his horse, the amiable rogue had already begun to exclaim:

"How do you do, my dear Moreira! At last the great day has arrived. This time I've come to buy the fazenda."

Moreira shook. He waited until the scoundrel had dismounted and hardly had Trancoso thrown aside the reins and turned towards him with open arms, all smiles, when the old man drew a whip from under his coat and belaboured him with the fury of a wild boar.

"You want a plantation, you great scoundrel! Take that and that, you thief!" and slash, slash, the whip fell in strong and angry strokes.

The poor fellow, dazed by the unexpected attack, fled to the horse and mounted blindly, while Zico, the aggrieved all-but-brother-in-law, fell upon him with another shower of whaling across his back.

Dona Izaura set the dogs on him:

“Catch him, Brinquinho! Hold tight, Joli!"