Moreira's sorrel, the best horse, on the farm. He had praised the animal so much during his rides that the planter bad been obliged to refuse an exchange proposed and make him a present of it.
"Just see!" said Moreira, voicing the general opinion. "Young, very rich, straight as can be, learned as a doctor and, nevertheless, amiable, polite, incapable of turning up his nose at things like the idiots who have come here. That's a gentleman for you!"
The old lady was specially pleased at the young man's lack of ceremony. To take away eggs and yams! How nice of him!
They all agreed with her, each one praising him in his or her way. And thus, even absent, the amiable and wealthy youth was the talk of the household during the entire week.
The week passed, however, without the arrival of the much desired answer. And still another, and yet another. Moreira wrote him, already apprehensive; no answer. He remembered a friend who lived in the same town and sent him a letter asking him to obtain a definite decision from the capitalist. Regarding the price, he would lower it somewhat. Не would sell the fazenda for fifty-five, fifty, or even forty, including live-stock and furniture.
His friend answered without delay. Upon opening the envelope the four hearts of the Espigão fazenda beat violently: that paper held the destiny of all four.
The letter read as follows: "Dear Moreira: Either I am very much mistaken or you are laboring under an illusion. There is no wealthy
