The Abyss by Lara Blunte Page A

mirror and patted her turban,  "Mas estou bonita de qualquer modo!" But I look pretty anyway!
    "That is true!" Clara said, putting an arm around her friend’s waist, "I just don't manage to be fashionable, when I know how it started!"
    "Let's not tell anyone," Paula conspired. "Now I shall be the one laughing, when I think of the lice!"
    That night Clara waited patiently as Teresa did her hair; she was thankful that her maid should be so stubborn, for she was not used to dressing a lady's hair in the European fashion and had to frown over a print of the empress Maria Ludovika of Austria for a while to understand what she should be doing.
    Then Clara put on a dress that was dark red with sheer black organza over it, and carefully embroidered sleeves and neckline. She had never had the occasion to wear it in Lisbon, and it must be woefully out of date in Europe, but here it would do. Dangling opal earrings completed her toilette, and she looked magnificent.
    When she walked out putting on her long white gloves and met her parents at the front door, they both smiled appreciatively. Juliana even kissed her, as she had used to do years before. "You will dazzle everyone," she told her daughter.
    They went off in a hired carriage, as they could not afford one for themselves, or horses ─ at least not yet. Clara enjoyed the ride and the song of the night creatures on the way, until they arrived at the farm and crossed the gates toward the house.
    Music was already playing through open windows, and the whole of the prince's residence was lit by candles. Clara recognized the tune in the air and hummed it happily. She had as much desire for amusement as any young woman her age, though lately she had found it in solitude, and in simple pleasures.
    Inside there were already many people going round the room that had been reserved for entertaining, a room not nearly as spacious as the ones in the palaces of Lisbon. The prince was presently adding to the house, but for now the musicians were squeezed into one corner, doing their best to be heard above the loud chatter and laughter of the Brazilians.
    Clara followed her parents to greet the prince, who nowadays looked sadder and more tired than he ever had.
    They talked a little to members of the court and Clara scanned the room, wondering if there would be dancing and, if so, who might be her partners.
    There was a taller form on the other side of the dance floor. She felt a pang looking at the man's straight back and short brown hair, thinking that he might have been Gabriel. It always gave her a start to see anyone who, out of the corner of her eyes, might have been him and then turned out to be someone quite different. This man had turned his head to one side, as if feeling that he was being watched. He had a handsome profile, with a nose whose bridge might have been broken and yet remained fine, an elegant cheek and a clean jaw above his high collar.
    As if he could feel that he was being watched, he turned his head and looked straight at her with intense blue eyes.
    "Gabriel!" Clara cried out loud.
    Her parents stopped speaking to look at her.
    "Oh, yes," said the Count of Barbacena, with whom they were standing. "There is Almada de Castro. I forgot you even knew him. He goes by his mother's name now, Maia. The quarrel with his father, I suppose..."
    Clara hardly heard what the count was saying. The whole room was whirling and everyone in it had become blurry, except for the man who had fully turned to watch her. She heard the deformed sound of the violin, and saw that there was a clear path across a room to the person looking her with a different face than she had known.
    She did not realize that she was moving, and only heard her mother sharply call her name from very far away. She was moving across the floor and her eyes never left his. When she reached him she held out her hand and it hung in the air, empty for moment, until she felt the warmth of his.
    "Gabriel!" she said