It was a scorching hot day. Shortly after noon‚ Joana‚ in the kitchen‚ was stretched out in an old wicker chair from Madeira‚ having a nap. She got up so early that‚ during the hottest part of the day‚ she was always overcome by exhaustion.
The windows were closed to the glittering sun; the pans on the oven purred sleepily; and the whole silent house seemed to be drowsing in the intense‚ debilitating heat‚ when Juliana burst into the room‚ flung down an armful of dirty washing on the floor and yelled:
‘God help me‚ but there’s going to be trouble in this house one day!’
Joana started awake.
‘If she wants everything just so‚ then she can damn well do it herself!’ Juliana was shouting‚ her eyes red and bloodshot. ‘Instead of spending all day in the drawing room chatting to her visitors!’
Much alarmed‚ the cook hurriedly closed the door.
‘What happened‚ Senhora Juliana‚ what happened?’
‘She’s in a filthy mood! Her blood’s up! I reckon she could do with a bloodletting‚ she could! She finds fault with everything I do! And I simply won’t put up with it any more!’
And she stamped her foot hard.
‘But what happened? What happened?’
‘She started off by saying that there wasn’t enough starch in the collars‚ and then she started ranting! And I just won’t put up with it any longer! I’m up to here with her!’ she bawled‚ pinching the wrinkled skin on her throat. ‘She’d better not push me too far! I’ll leave and I’ll tell her to her face exactly why I’m leaving too! I’m not staying in this house with all these shameless goings-on! I’m not getting involved in intrigues!’
‘Please‚ Senhora Juliana‚ please‚ be quiet!’ Joana was clutching her head in her hands. ‘If madam hears you…’
‘Let her‚ I’ll say it to her face! I’ve had enough! I’ve had enough!’
Suddenly she turned white as chalk and collapsed into the wicker chair‚ her two hands pressed to her heart‚ her eyes rolled back.
‘Senhora Juliana!’ cried Joana. ‘Senhora Juliana! Speak to me!’
She sprinkled water on her face‚ shook her anxiously.
‘Oh‚ my God! Oh‚ my God! Are you all right? Say something!’
Juliana gave a long‚ relieved sigh and closed her eyes. And she lay there breathing slowly‚ in a state of prostration.
‘How are you feeling? Would you like a bit of broth? You’ve been overdoing things.’
‘I had a sudden pain in my chest‚’ murmured Juliana.
These rages would be the death of her‚ said the cook‚ still very pale herself‚ as she stirred Juliana’s soup. As far as employers were concerned‚ you just had to put up with them! She should drink a little soup and calm down.
At that moment‚ Luiza opened the door. She was still in her corsets and her white petticoat.
What was all the noise about?
Senhora Juliana had suffered a fainting fit.
‘I-I had a pain in my chest‚’ stammered Juliana.
And struggling to her feet‚ she said:
‘If you don’t need anything else‚ madam‚ I’ll go to the doctor’s.’
‘Yes‚ go‚ go‚’ said Luiza. And she went back downstairs.
Juliana sat eating her soup with agonising slowness. Joana kept muttering consoling words. Senhora Juliana did tend to get worked up over nothing. And the worst thing you can do if your health’s not good is get yourself in a state …
‘You don’t know what it’s like!’ Juliana lowered her voice‚ at the same time opening her eyes very wide. ‘She’s been absolutely unbearable! She’s getting all dressed up as if she was off to a party! She crumpled up a few collars and threw them on the floor and said I was useless at starching‚ that I was useless at everything. And I’ve had enough!’ she said again. ‘I’ve had enough!’
‘It’s just a question of being patient! We all have our cross to bear!’
Juliana smiled wanly‚ got to her feet with a great sigh‚ picked at her teeth‚ gathered up the bundle of dirty washing and disappeared off to her attic room.
Shortly afterwards‚ looking very pale‚ with her black gloves on‚ she went out.
As she was turning the corner‚ just opposite the tobacconist’s‚ she stopped‚ uncertain what to do. It was a long walk to the doctor’s. And her legs were shaking. But then she couldn’t afford the three tostões for a carriage!
‘Pst!’ said someone softly.
It was the owner of the tobacconist’s shop‚ wearing her long widow’s weeds and her cheerless smile.
Where was Senhora Juliana going? Off for a little walk‚ eh?
And she admired her black sunshade with its bone handle. ‘Such good taste‚’ she said. ‘And how’s your health been?’
Bad. She had been getting pains in her chest. She was going to the doctor now.
But Senhora Helena‚ the owner of the tobacconist’s shop‚ had no faith in doctors. They were a waste of money. She spoke of her husband’s illness‚ the huge amounts of money they had spent … And all for what? Just to see him fade away and die‚ just like that. She had always regretted spending that money!
And she sighed. But then‚ of course‚ it was God’s will. And how were things at the Engineer’s house?
‘Much the same as usual.’
‘Senhora Juliana‚ who is that young man who comes visiting every day?’
Juliana replied at once:
‘He’s madam’s cousin.’
‘They seem very friendly.’
‘Yes‚ they do.’
She coughed‚ and with a little nod of her head‚ said:
‘Good afternoon to you‚ Senhora Helena.’
And as she moved off‚ she muttered:
‘Stick that in your pipe‚ you old crone!’
Juliana hated the neighbours; she knew they made fun of her and imitated her and called her ‘the Old Prune’. Well‚ they weren’t going to get anything out of her. They could die of curiosity for all she cared! They could wait till Kingdom come‚ but she was going to keep everything she had seen or suspected locked up inside her. ‘Until the right moment!’ she thought bitterly‚ as she walked off‚ swaying her hips.
The tobacconist stood at her door‚ a disappointed woman. And Senhor Paula‚ the owner of the junk shop‚ who had seen them talking‚ immediately sidled over in his carpet slippers.
‘So did the Old Prune let anything slip‚ then?’
‘Oh‚ you won’t get anything out of her!’
Senhor Paula plunged his hands in his pockets and said dully:
‘I expect the Engineer’s wife greases her palm. She’s the one who delivers the letters and the one who opens the door at night.’
‘Well‚ really‚ I wouldn’t go that far!’
Senhor Paula gave her a superior look:
‘You’re always stuck behind your counter‚ Senhora Helena‚ but I know what these high society women are like! I know them down to the tips of their fingers. They’re nothing but riff-raff!’
And he went on to name names‚ including a few illustrious ones; they had innumerable lovers‚ some of whom were mere footmen! They smoked cigarettes and drank! And some did even worse things!
‘And they ride around‚ all nicely ensconced in their carriages‚ and dare to flaunt their behaviour before decent people!’
‘I put it down to a lack of religion!’ sighed Senhora Helena.
Senhor Paula shrugged.
‘It’s religion I blame‚ Senhora Helena! It’s all the fault of those priests!’
Then‚ angrily shaking his fist‚ he went on:
‘Scum‚ the lot of them!’
‘Please‚ Senhor Paula‚ don’t say such things!’
And her large‚ pale‚ ugly face wore the stern expression of one whose beliefs have been deeply offended.
‘Nonsense‚ Senhora Helena!’ he exclaimed scornfully.
He plunged on:
‘Why do you think all the convents and monasteries have closed down? Tell me that! Because of all the shameless goings-on!’
‘Really‚ Senhor Paula‚ really!’ spluttered Senhora Helena‚ recoiling and shrinking back.
But Senhor Paula was raining down impieties upon her now like knife blows.
‘Absolutely shameless! At night‚ the nuns would walk through a tunnel to meet up with the friars. And they would spend the night drinking wine and dancing the fandango in their underwear! It’s in all the books.’
And raising himself up onto the tips of his slippered feet‚ he went on:
‘And as for the Jesuits‚ well…’
But just then he drew back and raised one hand to the peak of his cap:
‘Your servant‚ madam‚’ he said respectfully.
It was Luiza going by‚ all in black‚ her veil down. They fell silent‚ watching her.
‘She is awfully pretty!’ murmured Senhora Helena admiringly.
Senhor Paula frowned.
‘Not bad‚’ he said. Then he added scornfully: ‘If you like that kind of thing.’
There was a silence. And Senhor Paula grumbled:
‘It’s not women I spend my time on or this!’
And he patted his jacket pocket‚ making his money jingle.
He coughed‚ noisily cleared his throat and‚ still in austerely critical mode‚ said:
‘Give me some of that Xabregas tobacco‚ will you?’
Whistling and rolling himself a cigarette‚ he was just opening the door of the shop‚ when his eyes opened wide in indignation‚ for up at one of the open windows of the Engineer’s house‚ he had glimpsed the scrawny figure of Pedro‚ the carpenter.
He turned to Senhora Helena‚ ostentatiously folded his arms and said:
‘And now that the mistress is going her own sweet way‚ the lad’s having fun with the maid!’
He exhaled a vast cloud of smoke and said darkly:
‘That house is turning into a veritable sink of iniquity!
‘Into a what‚ Senhor Paula?’
‘A sink of iniquity‚ Senhora Helena‚ it means “a brothel”.’
And the scandalised patriot strode away.
Luiza was finally going to the country with Bazilio. She had agreed the day before‚ stipulating that it was to be a half-hour ride and that they would at no point get out of the carriage. Bazilio had insisted‚ talking of ‘shady avenues‚ a little picnic‚ long grass’. But she had stubbornly stuck to her guns‚ laughing and saying: ‘Definitely no long grass!’
They had arranged to meet in the Praça da Alegria. She arrived late – just after half past two – looking very flustered‚ with her parasol held low over her face.
Bazilio was sitting‚ smoking‚ in a coupé stationed under a tree at one corner of the square. He flung open the door and Luiza clambered in‚ at the same time trying to furl her sunshade; her dress caught on the step and the silk ruffle on the hem tore; then‚ at last‚ she was there beside him‚ agitated and breathless‚ her face ablaze‚ muttering:
‘This is madness‚ utter madness!’
She could barely speak. The coupé set off at a smart trot. The driver was Pintéus‚ an ex-footman.
‘You poor thing‚ you’re worn out!’ said Bazilio tenderly.
He lifted her veil; her face was damp with sweat; her large eyes shone with excitement‚ haste‚ fear.
‘It’s so hot‚ Bazilio!’
He made to open one of the carriage windows.
No‚ no! People might see them. They should wait until they were outside the city.
‘Where are we going?’
She lifted the blind slightly and peered out.
‘I thought over towards Lumiar would be the best place. What do you think?’
She shrugged. What did it matter? She was beginning to calm down; she had removed her veil and her gloves; she was smiling‚ fanning herself with her handkerchief‚ which exuded a fresh perfume.
Bazilio took her wrist and planted many long‚ delicate kisses on her fine‚ blue-veined skin.
‘You promised to behave!’ she said with a warm smile‚ though looking at him askance.
What did a kiss on the arm matter? There was no need to be quite such a prude!
And he gazed at her with hungry eyes.
The old blinds on the coupé windows were made of red silk‚ and the light coming in through them wrapped her in a uniformly pink glow. Her lips were moist and red‚ with the healthy‚ satin smoothness of a rose petal; and one shining point of light gleamed in the corners of her liquid eyes.
Unable to help himself‚ he ran tremulous fingers over her temples and her hair‚ in one fleeting‚ hesitant caress; then he asked humbly:
‘Can I not even kiss your cheek‚ just once?’
‘Just once?’ she said.
He kissed her delicately near her ear‚ but that contact painfully stirred his desires; there was a kind of sob in his voice; he grasped her passionately to him‚ showering wild kisses on her throat‚ her cheek‚ her hat …
‘No‚ no!’ she spluttered‚ resisting him. ‘I want to get out. Tell him to stop!’
She beat on the windows; she tried desperately to open one‚ bruising her fingers on the hard‚ grimy chain.
Bazilio begged her forgiveness! But it was silly to get so angry over a kiss! She was driving him mad with her prettiness‚ but he promised that he would sit still‚ absolutely still.
The carriage‚ as it neared the outskirts of the city‚ rumbled and bounced over the gravel surface; in the fields on either side‚ the dusty green olive trees stood unmoving in the white light‚ and the searing sun blazed down on the scorched grass.
Bazilio had lowered one of the windows; the blind fluttered gently; he started talking tenderly about himself‚ about his love‚ about his plans. He had decided to settle in Lisbon‚ he said. He had no intention of marrying; he loved her and could think of nothing better than to live near her side for ever. He was disillusioned‚ he said‚ bored. What more did life have to offer him? He had experienced all the sensations that ephemeral love affairs had to offer‚ as well as the adventure of long journeys. He had accumulated some money of his own‚ and he now felt old before his time.
Gazing at her and taking her hands in his‚ he said:
‘I am old‚ aren’t I?’
‘Not very.’ And her eyes grew wet with tears.
Oh‚ he was‚ he was! What he wanted now was to live entirely for her‚ to find rest in her sweet company. She was all the family he had. He waxed very ‘cousinly’. ‘After all‚ one’s family is what matters most. Do you mind if I smoke?’ And he added as he lit his match:
‘What really matters in life are deep affections like ours. Don’t you agree? Besides‚ I can content myself with very little. Seeing you every day‚ talking to you‚ knowing that you respect me. Pintéus!’ he bawled out of the window. ‘Drive out into the countryside!’
The coupé proceeded slowly to Campo Grande. Bazilio raised the blinds; fresh air flooded in. The dazzling light of the sun fell through the branches of the trees‚ forming hot‚ leafy shadows on the dusty‚ white ground. Everything seemed parched and exhausted. The short grass growing in the cracked earth was scorched almost grey. A yellowish dust blew along the road beside them. Sleepy peasants sheltering beneath vast scarlet sunshades rode past on mules‚ legs joggling; and the sun from the oppressive‚ dark blue sky drew crude‚ dazzling reflections from the bright whitewashed walls‚ from water in an abandoned bucket‚ from the pale stones …
Bazilio went on:
‘I’ll sell all my assets abroad and rent a little house in Lisbon‚ in Rua Buenos Aires perhaps. Wouldn’t you like that? Tell me.’
She said nothing; these words‚ these promises‚ to which his hoarse‚ metallic voice lent a kind of amorous vigour‚ had upon her much the same effect as a strong liqueur. Her breast rose and fell very fast.
Bazilio lowered his voice and said:
‘Whenever I’m near you‚ I feel so happy‚ everything seems so good.’
‘If only that were true‚’ she sighed‚ leaning back in her seat.
Bazilio put his arm around her waist; he swore that it was true. He was going to put his entire fortune into government bonds. He began to provide her with proof; he had already spoken to a lawyer‚ and he mentioned the name of a thin fellow with a very pointed nose …
And holding her close to him‚ his eyes devouring her‚ he said:
‘If it were true‚ what would you do?’
‘I don’t honestly know‚’ she murmured.
They were entering Lumiar and so they prudently lowered the blinds. She peered out and‚ as they passed‚ saw dusty trees; the grubby pink wall around a garden; the façades of mean-looking houses; an omnibus without its horse; women sitting in a doorway in the shade‚ delousing their children; and a man all in white‚ wearing a straw hat‚ who stopped suddenly and stared at the closed blinds of the coupé. And she began to think how nice it would be to have an estate there‚ far from the main road; she would have a lovely little house with climbing plants round the windows‚ a vine trellis mounted on stone pillars‚ rose trees‚ charming little paths shaded by interlacing trees‚ a pool beneath a lime tree‚ where‚ each morning‚ the servants would soap and beat the clothes‚ talking all the while. And as it grew dark‚ he and she‚ still slightly weary from the pleasures of the siesta‚ would walk through the fields together‚ beneath a sky filling up with stars‚ and listen in silence to the sad croaking of the frogs.
She closed her eyes. The violent movement of the carriage‚ the heat‚ his presence‚ the touch of his hand‚ his knee‚ were all sapping her will. She felt desire swelling in her breast.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked very softly and tenderly.
Luiza blushed scarlet. She did not respond. She was afraid to speak‚ to tell him.
Bazilio slowly‚ carefully‚ respectfully took her hand‚ as if it were some precious‚ holy object; and he kissed it lightly‚ with all the servility of a black slave and the piety of a devotee. That caress‚ so humble‚ so poignant‚ was too much for her; her nerves gave way; she fell back in her seat and burst into tears.
What was wrong? What was the matter? He took her in his arms and kissed her‚ saying the maddest things.
‘Shall we run away together?’
The round‚ bright little tears rolling slowly down that sweet face touched him and lent his desires an almost painful intensity.
‘Come away with me. I’ll take you away with me! We’ll go to the ends of the earth together!’
She was sobbing now‚ and murmured almost sadly:
‘Don’t talk such nonsense!’
He fell silent and covered his eyes with his hands in an attitude of great melancholy‚ thinking: ‘I am talking nonsense‚ she’s quite right!’
Luiza was drying her tears and discreetly blowing her nose.
‘It’s my nerves!’ she said. ‘It’s just my nerves. Shall we go back? I don’t feel well. Tell him to take us back.’
Bazilio ordered the coachman to hurry back to Lisbon.
She complained of an incipient migraine. He had once more taken her hand in his and was repeating the same terms of endearment: he called her ‘his dove’‚ ‘his ideal’‚ all the while thinking: ‘You’re mine for the taking!’
They stopped in Praça da Alegria. Luiza looked out‚ then jumped down quickly‚ saying:
‘Tomorrow‚ without fail‚ all right?’
She opened her parasol‚ lowered it over her face and walked swiftly in the direction of Rua da Patriarcal.
Bazilio opened the carriage windows and gave a sigh of satisfaction. He lit another cigar‚ stretched out his legs and shouted:
In the reading room‚ his friend‚ Viscount Reinaldo‚ who had lived in London for years now‚ having spent many years in Paris as well‚ was sitting slumped in an armchair‚ languidly reading The Times. They had travelled from Paris together‚ on the condition that they would return via Madrid. The heat had a desolating effect on Reinaldo; he found the temperature in Lisbon ‘vulgar’; he was wearing spectacles with smoked lenses and was drenched in perfume as a defence against ‘the ignoble smells of Portugal’. As soon as he saw Bazilio come in‚ he let his copy of The Times slide to the floor and‚ arms hanging limply‚ said in a faint voice:
‘How’s this business with your cousin going‚ then? Is it on or off? It’s just ghastly here‚ old man! I’m dying! I need the north! I need Scotland! Let’s leave! Get rid of your cousin. Rape her and‚ if she resists‚ kill her!’
Bazilio‚ who had sat down in another armchair‚ gave a prolonged stretch of his arms‚ and said:
‘She’s mine for the taking!’
‘Well‚ hurry up and take her then!’
With agonising slowness‚ he picked up his copy of The Times‚ yawned and ordered some soda water‚ English soda water!
There was none‚ the waiter told him. Reinaldo stared at Bazilio with mingled horror and alarm‚ then muttered grimly:
‘What a vile country!’
When Luiza got home‚ Juliana‚ still in her street clothes‚ announced to her as soon as she came in through the door:
‘Senhor Sebastião is in the drawing room. He’s been waiting for ages. He was here when I got back.’
He had‚ in fact‚ arrived half an hour before. When Joana‚ red-faced and looking as if she had just woken up‚ had opened the door to him‚ mumbling something about her mistress being out‚ Sebastião had turned and started back down the stairs‚ filled with the delicious relief of a difficulty postponed. But he had stopped himself in time‚ stiffened his resolve and gone back in to sit down and wait. The previous evening‚ he had decided to talk to her‚ to warn her that these repeated‚ ostentatious visits from her cousin‚ in a gossip-ridden street such as hers‚ could easily compromise her. It was awful having to tell her‚ but it was his duty! His duty to her‚ to her husband and to the good name of the household! He had to forewarn her. And he did not feel shy about doing so. Confronted by the claims of duty‚ he was filled with decisive energy. His heart was beating a little faster than usual‚ and he was slightly pale‚ but‚ damn it‚ he had to tell her!
And as he paced about the room‚ with his hands in his pockets‚ he was composing phrases‚ trying to put things in as delicate and friendly a way as possible.
But then the doorbell rang‚ the corridor was filled by the rustle of a dress‚ and his courage shrivelled like a punctured balloon. He went and sat down at the piano and started pounding away at the keys. When Luiza came in‚ without her hat on and removing her gloves‚ he got up and blurted out:
‘I was just knocking out a bit of a tune … I’ve been waiting. Where have you been?’
She sat down wearily. She had been at the dressmaker’s‚ she said. And it was so hot! Why had he not come in when he had called before? She hadn’t been entertaining any formal visitors. It was a member of her family‚ her cousin‚ who had just returned from abroad.
‘And how is your cousin?’
‘Fine. He’s been here quite often. He’s terribly bored in Lisbon‚ poor thing. Well‚ of course‚ for someone accustomed to living abroad…’
Sebastião sat‚ slowly rubbing his knees and repeated:
‘Yes‚ of course‚ for someone accustomed to living abroad…’
‘Has Jorge written to you?’ asked Luiza.
‘Yes‚ I got a letter from him yesterday.’
So had she. They talked about Jorge‚ about the longueurs of his trip‚ about what he had told them about Sebastião’s eccentric relative‚ about his probably delayed return.
‘We need him here with us‚ the rascal!’ said Sebastião.
Luiza coughed. She was looking rather pale now. She occasionally ran a hand over her forehead‚ closing her eyes.
Then‚ suddenly‚ Sebastião decided to speak:
‘My dear friend‚’ he began‚ ‘I have come…’
But he saw her sitting at the other end of the sofa with her head bowed‚ one hand covering her eyes.
‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’
‘I’ve got a migraine‚ it’s just come on. I thought I was getting one as I was on my way home just now. It’s really bad.’
Sebastião immediately snatched up his hat:
‘And here am I bothering you! Do you need anything? Do you want me to call a doctor?’
‘No‚ no! I’ll go and lie down for a few moments. It will soon pass.’
She must avoid draughts‚ he advised her. Perhaps a poultice might help‚ or slices of lemon placed on the temples. Anyway‚ if she didn’t feel better‚ she must call him at once.
‘It will pass! But do drop by‚ Sebastião. Don’t hide yourself away.’
Sebastião went down the stairs‚ uttering a long sigh; he was thinking: ‘I simply cannot do it!’ But at the front door‚ he glanced up and saw‚ in the dark interior of the coal shop‚ the vast bulk of the coal merchant’s wife in her white peignoir‚ craning her neck to see; up above‚ from behind the faded cotton curtains‚ three of the Azevedo girls had their curly little heads pressed together in some malign confabulation; behind her window‚ the doctor’s maid was sewing‚ constantly darting hungry glances out at the street; and from next door‚ in the furniture shop‚ came the hawking and spitting of ‘the patriot’.
‘A cat couldn’t walk past here without them noticing!’ thought Sebastião. ‘And such vicious tongues! I have to do it‚ even if I die in the attempt. If she’s feeling better tomorrow‚ I’ll tell her everything!’
She was‚ in fact‚ feeling much better by nine o’clock the next morning‚ when Juliana came to wake her with ‘a note from Senhora Dona Leopoldina’.
Leopoldina’s maid‚ Justina‚ a very dark‚ thin little woman with a moustache and a squint‚ was waiting in the dining room. She was a friend of Juliana’s; they always kissed each other fondly on the cheek and exchanged compliments. And having put Luiza’s note of reply away in the little basket she carried on her arm‚ she adjusted her shawl over her chest and said‚ smiling:
‘So‚ Senhora Juliana‚ any news to report?’
‘Only old news‚ Senhora Justina.’
And lowering her voice‚ she added:
‘Madam’s cousin comes here every day now. He’s a handsome fellow too!’
They both quietly and maliciously cleared their throats.
‘And who’s your current visitor‚ Senhora Justina‚ how are things over there?’
Justina made a dismissive gesture.
‘A mere boy‚ a student. Certainly nothing to write home about!’
‘Is he as tight-fisted as ever‚ then?’ said Juliana with a giggle.
Justina exclaimed:
‘The miser! He never gives me a thing!’
And rolling her eyes nostalgically‚ she added:
‘Oh‚ he’s not like Gama. Now when he was around‚ he never left without giving me ten tostões‚ sometimes as much as half a libra. He was the one who helped me buy my silk dress‚ I’ll have you know. But this fellow! He’s barely out of nappies. I don’t know why my mistress puts up with him! He’s so thin and unhealthy-looking too! I shouldn’t think he’s up to much!’
Juliana said:
‘You know‚ Senhora Justina‚ I’ve been thinking lately that the best houses to work in are precisely the ones where there are the most goings-on! I ran into Agostinha yesterday; she’s working at the Comendador’s house‚ in Largo do Rato. Well‚ you just can’t imagine! She has everything! Everything! She’s got the ring‚ the silk dress‚ the sunshade‚ the hat! And according to her‚ she’s got enough underwear for a trousseau! And all because of Couceiro‚ who’s with the mistress of the house. And he always slips her a bit extra on feast days too. He’s a very generous man‚ she says. Mind you‚ it’s a lot of work: she has to let him in through the garden and then hang around to let him out again.’
‘Oh‚ it’s not like that where I am!’ said Justina. ‘He just uses the stairs.’
They tittered‚ enjoying the scandal of it all.
‘Well‚ it takes all sorts!’ said Juliana.
‘Oh‚ the master of the house is made of sterner stuff‚’ said Justina. ‘He passes them on the stairs and doesn’t turn a hair.’
Then‚ readjusting her shawl again‚ she said affectionately:
‘Anyway‚ I’d better be off‚ Senhora Juliana‚ it’s getting late. My mistress is coming here to supper tonight. I’ve spent all morning starching her petticoats; since seven o’clock I’ve been at it!’
‘So have I‚’ said Juliana. ‘That’s the problem with these women; when they’ve got a lover‚ there’s always so much starching and ironing to do.’
‘Yes‚ they certainly get through more underwear‚’ said Justina.
‘Always assuming they bother to change their underwear!’ exclaimed Juliana scornfully.
Just then‚ Luiza rang the bell.
‘Goodbye‚ Senhora Juliana‚’ said Justina‚ adjusting her hat.
‘Goodbye‚ Senhora Justina.’
Juliana went out with her to the landing. They once again exchanged fond kisses. Juliana hurried back to Luiza’s room. Luiza was already up and in high spirits‚ singing to herself as she dressed.
The note had said in Leopoldina’s sloping hand:
‘My husband is going to the country today‚ so I’m inviting myself over to dinner‚ but I can’t come before six o’clock. Is that all right?’
Luiza was thrilled. She hadn’t seen Leopoldina for weeks. How they would laugh and talk! And Bazilio should be there at two. It looked set to be a full and entertaining day …
She went straight up to the kitchen to give her orders for supper. When she came back down‚ Sebastião’s little errand boy was ringing the bell‚ bringing a bouquet of roses for her and asking if she was feeling better.
‘Yes‚ absolutely!’ cried Luiza. And to reassure Sebastião and to discourage him from visiting‚ she added that she was fine and might even be going out.
The roses‚ though‚ were most timely. Bright-eyed and still singing‚ she arranged them in the vases‚ pleased with herself and with her life‚ which had suddenly become so interesting and full of incident.
And at two o’clock‚ she dressed‚ went into the drawing room and sat down at the piano to practise Gounod’s ‘Medjé’‚ which Bazilio had brought for her‚ and whose warm‚ sighing notes delighted her.
At half past two‚ however‚ she began to feel impatient; her fingers fumbled over the keys. ‘You should be here by now‚ Bazilio!’ she was thinking.
She went over to the windows‚ opened them and leaned out; but the doctor’s maid‚ who was sewing at her window‚ immediately looked up at her with such searching eyes that Luiza rapidly closed the windows again. She went back to her playing‚ but she was on edge now.
A carriage came down the street. She stood up‚ flustered‚ her heart pounding. The carriage passed by.
Three o’clock! The heat seemed to have intensified‚ to have become unbearable; she felt as if her cheeks were burning and went to apply more powder. What if Bazilio were ill! Alone in a hotel room‚ tended only by neglectful servants! But‚ no‚ in that case‚ he would have written to her. He had not come‚ he did not care! How rude‚ how selfish!
She was a fool to worry. It was better like this. But she was so very hot! She went to look for a fan‚ and her frantic hands wrestled with the drawer which‚ slightly stiff‚ did not immediately open. She would not receive him again. It was all over.
And her great love suddenly disappeared‚ like smoke swept away by a gust of wind! She felt a sense of relief and a great desire for peace. With a husband like Jorge‚ it really was absurd even to consider another man‚ let alone a frivolous libertine!
The clock struck four. On a despairing impulse‚ she ran into Jorge’s study‚ snatched up a piece of paper and hurriedly wrote:
Why haven’t you come? Are you ill? If you only knew the torments you were putting me through …
The doorbell rang. It was him! She crumpled up the note‚ thrust it into the pocket of her dress and stood waiting‚ her heart beating fast. A man’s footsteps crossed the drawing room carpet. She went in‚ her eyes shining. It was Sebastião.
Sebastião‚ looking slightly pale‚ clasped both her hands. Was she feeling better? Had she slept well?
Yes‚ thank you‚ she was much better. She sat down on the sofa‚ her face very red. She hardly knew what to say.
She said again‚ with a vague smile: ‘Yes‚ I’m much better!’ And she was thinking: ‘I’ll never get this bore out of my house now!’
‘So you didn’t go out‚ then?’ asked Sebastião‚ sitting down in the armchair‚ holding his hat in his hands.
No‚ she was still a little tired.
Sebastião slowly smoothed his hair with his hand and then‚ in a voice hoarse with embarrassment‚ said:
‘And‚ of course‚ you have company in the afternoons.’
‘Yes‚ my cousin Bazilio has been visiting me. We haven’t seen each other for years! We were practically brought up together. I’ve seen him nearly every day.’
Sebastião moved the armchair a little closer‚ then‚ leaning forward and lowering his voice‚ said:
‘Actually that’s what I wanted to speak to you about.’
Luiza opened surprised eyes.
‘About what?’
‘People have begun to notice. The neighbours here are frankly terrible‚ my dear friend. They don’t miss a thing. There has already been talk. The teacher’s maid and Senhor Paula … Someone has even mentioned it to Tia Joana. And since Jorge is not at home … Neto has noticed too. They don’t know he’s a relative of yours. And what with these daily visits…’
Luiza leaped to her feet‚ a look of fury on her face:
‘Can I not even receive visits from my own relatives without being insulted?’ she exclaimed.
Sebastião had got up too. Such sudden anger in this normally docile creature shook him like a clap of thunder out of a clear blue summer sky.
He started saying‚ almost pleadingly:
‘My dear lady‚ please‚ it’s not me who is saying this‚ it’s the neighbours…’
‘But what can they possibly have to say?’
There was a sharp edge to her voice. And clapping her hands together‚ she went on passionately:
‘This really is most odd! I have one relative‚ with whom I was brought up‚ whom I haven’t seen for some years‚ who has visited me briefly on three or four occasions‚ and already they’re spreading malicious rumours.’
She spoke with utter conviction‚ entirely forgetting Bazilio’s words‚ his kisses‚ the coupé …
Sebastião was shamefacedly turning his hat round and round in his trembling hands. And in subdued tones‚ he said:
‘I thought it best to warn you; Julião thought so too…’
‘Julião!’ she exclaimed. ‘But what has Julião to do with this? What right have you to interfere in what happens inside my house? Julião‚ indeed!’
Julião’s intervention and opinions seemed to her even more of an affront. She fell back into a chair‚ her hands pressed to her chest‚ her eyes staring up at the ceiling.
‘Oh‚ if only Jorge were here! Oh‚ dear God‚ if only he were here!’
Sebastião stammered weakly:
‘It … it was for your own good.’
‘But what evil could possibly befall me?’
And standing up and walking back and forth amongst the furniture‚ greatly agitated‚ she said:
‘He’s my only relative. We were brought up together‚ we played together. He was always there in mama’s house in Rua da Madalena. He dined there every day. We’re like brother and sister. When I was little‚ he looked after me.’
And in describing this fraternal relationship‚ she piled detail upon detail‚ exaggerating some and randomly inventing others‚ improvising them out of her anger.
‘He comes here‚’ she went on‚ ‘he stays for a while‚ we play music together‚ because he plays beautifully‚ he smokes a cigar and then he leaves.’
She was‚ instinctively‚ finding reasons to justify her position.
Sebastião simply stood there without an idea or a decision in his head. She seemed to him to be another‚ different‚ rather frightening Luiza; and he almost bowed his shoulders beneath the strident tones of her voice‚ which he had never known to be so loud or so clumsily voluble.
At last‚ he said with melancholy dignity:
‘I felt it was my duty‚ madam.’
A grave silence fell. That sober‚ almost severe tone made her blush a little at her extravagances; she looked down and said awkwardly:
‘Forgive me‚ Sebastião! Please‚ really‚ I swear it‚ I’m truly grateful to you for warning me. You were quite right!’
To which he responded warmly:
‘All I wanted was to stop these wicked tongues spreading any further calumnies! I was right to do so‚ wasn’t I?’
He then justified his intervention as the act of a friend; sometimes one word is all it takes to start a rumour‚ but if a person is forewarned …
‘Of course‚ Sebastião!’ she said. ‘You were absolutely right to warn me. Absolutely.’
She had sat down again; there was a feverish light in her eyes‚ and she kept dabbing with her handkerchief at the dry corners of her mouth.
‘But what should I do‚ Sebastião? Tell me!’
He was touched now to see her submit and seek his advice; he almost regretted having come to trouble the joys of her private life with the grave nature of his remarks. He said:
‘Obviously you must see your cousin and receive him‚ but‚ in this neighbourhood‚ a certain reserve is always a good thing. If I were you‚ I would talk to him … explain the situation.’
‘But what are these people actually saying‚ Sebastião?’
‘They’ve noticed his visits. They want to know who he is and what he’s doing here!’
Luiza started impetuously to her feet:
‘I’ve always said as much to Jorge! I’ve told him again and again! This street is just impossible! You can’t move a finger without someone spying on you‚ whispering about you!’
‘They have nothing else to do.’
There was a silence. Luiza was pacing about the room‚ her head down‚ her brow furrowed; then‚ stopping and looking almost eagerly at Sebastião:
‘If Jorge found out‚ he would be so angry! Oh‚ dear God!’
‘There’s no reason why he should ever know!’ cried Sebastião. ‘This is between you and me!’
‘It’s just that I don’t want to upset him‚’ added Luiza.
‘Of course! As I say‚ this is between you and me.’
Then Sebastião held out his hand to her and said almost humbly:
‘You’re not angry with me‚ are you?’
‘Me? Angry with you‚ Sebastião? What nonsense!’
‘Good. Believe me‚’ and he clapped one hand to his breast‚ ‘I felt it to be my duty. Because‚ of course‚ you‚ my dear friend‚ would know nothing about what was going on.’
‘I had no idea!’
‘Of course. Well‚ I’ll say goodbye‚ then. I don’t want to trouble you any further.’ And he added quietly‚ but with great feeling: ‘I’m always here if you need me.’
‘Goodbye‚ Sebastião. They’re such awful people! And all because they’ve seen the poor lad visit me a few times!’
‘A rabble‚ a complete rabble!’ said Sebastião‚ casting his eyes heavenwards.
And with that he left.
As soon as he had closed the door‚ Luiza exclaimed:
‘The impudence of the man! Oh‚ this could only happen to me!’
Sebastião’s intervention had actually irritated her more than the neighbourhood gossip! Her life‚ her visitors and her home were‚ it seemed‚ problems to be discussed and resolved by Sebastião‚ by Julião‚ by tutti quanti! She was twenty-five years old and yet‚ it seemed‚ she was still in need of guides and counsellors! Really! And why‚ dear God? All because her cousin‚ her sole relative‚ came to see her!
Then‚ suddenly‚ she fell quiet inside. She remembered how Bazilio looked at her‚ his exalted words‚ those kisses‚ that trip to Lumiar. Her soul silently blushed‚ but her resentment continued raging loudly: True‚ there were feelings between them‚ but they were honest‚ ideal‚ entirely platonic! They would never be anything else! She might harbour a certain weakness inside her‚ deep down‚ but she would always be a good‚ faithful wife‚ true to her husband!
And that certainty made her turn her ire instead on the street gossips. Was it really possible that after seeing Bazilio visit her house a mere four or five times‚ at two o’clock in the afternoon‚ they had immediately begun to murmur against her and to speak ill of her? Sebastião was an old stick-in-the- mud‚ with the timid sensibility of a hermit. And fancy consulting Julião! Julião of all people! It was doubtless his idea for Sebastião to come and preach at her‚ frighten her‚ humiliate her! Why? Out of bitterness and envy! Because Bazilio had good looks‚ fine clothes‚ manners‚ money … oh‚ that he did!
Bazilio’s qualities seemed to her then as magnificent and abundant as the attributes of a god. And he was in love with her! And wanted to live by her side! The love of that man who had drained so many sensations to the last drop and had doubtless abandoned many other women seemed to her a glorious affirmation of her beauty and of her own irresistible charm.
The joy she derived from his worship of her brought with it the fear that she might one day lose it. She did not want those feelings to diminish; she wanted them to be always there‚ undimmed‚ lulling her with the languid murmur of tender words! How could she ever part from Bazilio! But if the neighbours and their friends began to talk‚ to whisper‚ Jorge might find out! Her heart went cold at the thought. Sebastião was obviously right!
To the inhabitants of a small street of twelve houses‚ the daily visits of that handsome‚ elegant young man in the absence of her husband‚ well‚ it must look awful! Dear God‚ what was she to do?
The doorbell rang loudly; Leopoldina came in.
She was furious with the coachman. What did Luiza think of this? She had stopped off at the post office on the way‚ and the man had wanted to charge her for two journeys! The scoundrel!
‘And it’s so hot!’ She threw down her sunshade and her gloves; she shook her hands in the air to drive down the blood and restore them to their normal pallor; and pink-cheeked‚ tightly corseted‚ looking admirable in her stiff bodice‚ she stood at the dressing table‚ delicately composing the curls of her hair.
‘But what’s wrong with you‚ my dear? You seem distracted!’
Oh‚ it was nothing. She had lost her temper with the maids.
‘Oh‚ aren’t they unbearable!’ She recounted Justina’s demands and failings. ‘But I suppose I should be grateful she doesn’t simply leave. One depends on them so!’ And dabbing on some face powder‚ she said slowly: ‘Anyway‚ my lord and master has gone off to Campo Grande. I was going to have supper out with …’ She paused and smiled‚ then‚ turning to Luiza‚ said in a quieter voice and in a happy‚ earnest tone: ‘But you know‚ to be perfectly honest‚ I didn’t know where to go and I had no money. The poor love has barely enough to live on with his allowance. So I said to myself: “Right‚ I’ll go and see Luiza.” And men always bore one so in the end. What’s for supper? You didn’t go to a lot of trouble‚ did you?’
Then an idea suddenly struck her:
‘Have you got any salt cod?’
‘Probably‚ possibly. But what a strange thing to ask. Why?’
‘Oh!’ Leopoldina exclaimed. ‘Have them make me a little bit of baked cod! My husband loathes it‚ the beast! I adore it! With oil and garlic!’ Then she stopped talking‚ as if annoyed. ‘Oh‚ damn!’
‘What?’
‘I can’t have garlic tonight.’
And she walked into the drawing room‚ laughing. She plucked a rose from the bouquet Sebastião had sent and put it in her buttonhole. She would like to have a drawing room like this‚ she was thinking‚ looking around. She would have blue upholstery‚ two large mirrors‚ a gas chandelier and a full- length portrait of herself in a low-cut dress‚ posing beside a beautiful vase of flowers. She sat down at the piano‚ and pounded out a few melodies from Bluebeard.
Seeing Luiza come back in‚ she asked:
‘Did you order the salt cod?’
‘I did.’
‘Baked?’
‘Yes’
‘Gracias!’ And in her provocative voice‚ she launched into her favourite song from The Grand Duchess of Gérolstein:
I’ve heard it said that my grandpapa
Loved his wine so very very much …
But Luiza found the song too noisy; she wanted something sad and sweet. The fado! Yes‚ she should play that fado of hers!
Leopoldina immediately said:
‘Oh‚ there’s a new fado! Haven’t you heard it? It’s lovely! The words are just divine!’
She played the opening notes and began singing‚ languidly swaying her head back and forth and staring into space‚ her eyes dark:
The young man I saw yesterday
Was dark and oh so handsome …
‘Don’t you know this one‚ Luiza? Oh‚ my dear‚ it’s the very latest! And it’s so sad‚ it will make you weep!’
She began again‚ in a voluptuous voice. It was the story in rhyme of an unhappy love affair. It spoke of ‘jealous rages‚ the rocks at Cascais‚ of moonlit nights and wistful sighs’‚ the usual morbid‚ sentimental‚ Lisbon prattle. Leopoldina sang on in mournful tones‚ rolling back her eyes; there was one verse that she found particularly moving and she repeated it in impassioned tones:
I see him in the clouds in the sky‚
In the waves of the endless sea‚
But however far away he is‚
He is always close to me.
‘How lovely!’ sighed Luiza.
And Leopoldina finished on a few long‚ sighing notes‚ slightly off-key.
Standing beside the piano‚ Luiza could smell Leopoldina’s cheap cologne; the words of the fado made her feel rather sad; and she followed with yearning eyes Leopoldina’s thin‚ agile fingers as they danced over the keys‚ fingers that glittered with the bejewelled rings given to her by Gama.
Then Juliana came in‚ wearing her best dress and her new false hair. Supper was on the table!
Leopoldina declared that she was almost faint with hunger! And she felt cheered by the dining room‚ with its open windows‚ the green of the empty lots opposite and the blue horizon on which small‚ white‚ cottony clouds were gathering; her own dining room‚ which opened onto the hall‚ was gloomy enough to take your appetite away!
She began picking at the grapes‚ nibbling a few conserves and then‚ noticing the portrait of Jorge’s father as she was unfolding her napkin‚ remarked:
‘He must have been most amusing your father-in-law! He looks like a man who enjoyed himself!’
How long had it been since the two of them last had supper together? When was it?
‘It was during my first year of married life‚’ said Luiza.
Leopoldina blushed slightly. They used to see a great deal of each other; Jorge let them go to the shops together‚ to the patisserie‚ to the church in Graça … The memory of that period of camaraderie led Leopoldina to more distant recollections of schooldays. Some days ago‚ she had seen Rita Pessoa out walking with her nephew. ‘Do you remember him?’
They may have called him ‘Weed’‚ but at school he was their ideal man‚ their hero; they all used to write little notes to him‚ draw him hearts with flames pouring out of them‚ stick garlands of paper flowers in his distinctly grimy cap … And what about the time Micaela was caught in the attic where all the trunks were kept‚ devouring him with kisses!
Luiza said:
‘How dreadful!’
‘No‚ Micaela was just bolder than the rest of us!’
Poor thing! She had married a second lieutenant who beat her. And she now had masses of children.
‘What a vale of tears this is‚’ said Leopoldina‚ leaning back.
She was in a loquacious mood. She greedily piled food on her plate‚ speared a forkful‚ tasted it‚ then put it down and started eating crusts of bread thickly spread with butter. And she continued to wallow in those schoolday memories! What good times they had been!
‘Do you remember when we fell out?’
Luiza did not.
‘It was because you kissed Teresa‚ on whom I had a crush‚’ said Leopoldina.
They started talking about their ‘crushes’. Leopoldina had had four‚ the prettiest of whom was Joaninha Freitas. What eyes! And a lovely figure too! She had courted her for a whole month.
‘It was all so silly‚’ said Luiza‚ colouring slightly.
‘Silly? Why?’
She always spoke nostalgically of her girlhood ‘crushes’. Those had been her first and her most intense experiences of love. The agonies of jealousy she went through! The delirium of reconciliation! The stolen kisses and the furtive glances! And those love notes and the way her heart beat wildly‚ and all for the first time in her life.
‘Never‚’ she declared‚ ‘never‚ as a woman‚ have I felt for a man what I felt for Joaninha! I mean it…’
A look from Luiza silenced her. Juliana was there! Damn! She had forgotten. Her presence constrained them‚ as did her crooked little smile‚ her flat-chested figure‚ the metallic tick- tack of her heels.
‘Whatever became of Joaninha?’ asked Luiza.
She died of tuberculosis‚ and Leopoldina’s voice grew sad with longing. An awful illness. Not that she was afraid of catching it herself. And she patted her own shapely bosom.
‘I’m strong and healthy!’
Juliana left the room‚ and Luiza immediately said:
‘Watch what you say‚ my dear! Be careful!’
Leopoldina bowed.
‘Ah‚ yes‚ the respectability of the house! You’re quite right!’ she murmured.
And when Juliana came in bearing the baked cod‚ Leopoldina applauded:
‘Bravo! It looks superb!’
She poked at it hungrily with the tip of one finger; it was golden brown‚ slightly burned‚ and breaking into flakes.
‘See?’ she said. ‘Aren’t you tempted? You don’t know what you’re missing!’
Then with a brave‚ decisive gesture‚ she said:
‘Bring me some garlic‚ Senhora Juliana! Bring me a good clove of garlic!’
And as soon as she had gone:
‘I’m meeting Fernando afterwards‚ but I don’t care! Ah‚ thank you‚ Senhora Juliana! There’s nothing like garlic!’
She crushed the clove and distributed it around the plate‚ then solemnly drizzled the cod flakes with a little oil. ‘Gorgeous!’ she exclaimed. She refilled her glass; this‚ she said‚ was ‘a veritable feast’.
‘But what’s wrong?’
Luiza did indeed seem preoccupied. She kept sighing softly. Twice‚ sitting up in her chair‚ she had said to Juliana anxiously:
‘I thought I heard the doorbell. Go and see‚ will you?’
It was no one.
Who could it possibly be‚ asked Leopoldina. She wasn’t expecting her husband‚ was she?
‘No!’
Then‚ while apparently concentrating on her plate‚ as she slowly and carefully separated out the small flakes of fish‚ Leopoldina asked:
‘Did your cousin come to see you?’
Luiza blushed.
‘Yes‚ he did. He’s been several times.’
‘Ah!’
And after a silence:
‘Is he still as handsome?’
‘Well‚ he’s certainly not ugly.’
‘Ah!’
Luiza hurriedly asked her if she had ordered that check dress. No‚ she hadn’t. And they started discussing clothes‚ fabrics‚ shops‚ prices‚ then moved on to various acquaintances‚ other women‚ rumours‚ immersing themselves in the kind of conversation in which women on their own tend to indulge‚ delicate and endlessly digressive‚ rather like the whispering of leaves.
The roast meat was served. Leopoldina was already quite flushed. She asked Juliana to fetch her fan‚ then leaning back‚ fanning herself‚ she declared that she felt like a prince. And she continued taking sips of wine. What a good idea it had been to have supper together!
As soon as Juliana had set out the fruit plates‚ Luiza told her that she could leave the room and that she would call her when they needed coffee. She herself went and closed the door and drew the cretonne door curtain.
‘Now we can relax! It makes me feel old just looking at the creature! I can’t wait to see the back of her!’
‘But why don’t you just put her out in the street?’
Jorge did not want her to‚ otherwise …
Leopoldina protested. Husbands should have no say in domestic matters. Honestly!
‘But what about yours?’ said Luiza‚ laughing.
‘Touché!’ exclaimed Leopoldina. ‘He even has his own separate bedroom!’
Besides‚ she couldn’t stand men who worried about maids‚ shopping lists‚ oils and vinegars …
‘My gentleman even weighs the meat!’ She gave a smile full of loathing. ‘Mind you‚ that’s all he’s good for! Frankly‚ it makes me feel sick even to go into the kitchen.’
She went to pour herself more wine‚ but the bottle was empty.
Luiza said:
‘Would you like some champagne?’
She had some very good champagne which a Spanish mine-owner had sent to Jorge.
She herself went to get the bottle and unwrapped the blue paper‚ and then‚ laughing‚ half-frightened‚ they removed the cork. The foam delighted them; they gazed silently at their glasses‚ with a sense of happy well-being. Leopoldina boasted of her abilities as an opener of champagne bottles; she spoke vaguely of other suppers she had enjoyed.
‘On Shrove Tuesday‚ two years ago!’
And reclining in her chair‚ a warm smile on her lips‚ her nostrils flared‚ her eyes shining‚ she watched with sensual pleasure as the bright little bubbles rose unceasingly in the slender glass.
‘If I were rich‚ I would drink nothing but champagne‚’ she said.
Luiza disagreed: she wanted a coupé; she wanted to travel: to Paris‚ Seville‚ Rome … But Leopoldina’s desires were more ambitious: she yearned for a larger life‚ with carriages‚ a box at the theatre‚ a house in Sintra‚ suppers‚ balls‚ clothes‚ gambling. Because she loved playing monte‚ she said‚ it made her heart beat faster. And she was convinced that she would just adore roulette.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Men are so much more fortunate than we are! I was born to be a man! The things I would do!’
She got up and went over to the wing chair by the window where she sat down languidly. The tranquil evening was coming on; gathering behind the houses‚ beyond the empty lots‚ were round‚ yellowish clouds‚ edged with blood-red or orange.
And returning to the idea of action and independence‚ she said:
‘A man can do anything! Nothing is barred to him! He can travel‚ have adventures … You know‚ I would love a cigarette.’
The trouble was Juliana would smell it‚ and it would look bad.
‘It’s like a convent in here!’ muttered Leopoldina. ‘Though‚ I must say‚ you do have a very comfortable prison!’
Luiza did not respond; leaning her head on her hand and staring into space‚ she said‚ as if taking up some earlier remark:
‘But all that business about going out and about and travelling is just so much nonsense really! The best thing for a woman in our world is to stay at home with her husband and one or two children…’
Leopoldina sat up in her chair. Children! Don’t even talk about such a thing! She gave thanks to God every day that she did not have any!
‘It would be absolutely ghastly!’ she declared with conviction. ‘One would be so constrained … And then there’s the expense and the work and the illnesses! No‚ thank you! That really is a prison! And then‚ when they grow up‚ they notice everything you do and they tell on you too. A woman with children can do nothing‚ she’s bound hand and foot. There’s no pleasure in life! She just has to put up with them! Heavens! God forgive me‚ but if I ever had that misfortune‚ I think I would pay a visit to the old woman in Travessa da Palha!’
‘What old woman?’ asked Luiza.
Leopoldina explained. Luiza thought it ‘utterly vile’. Leopoldina shrugged and added:
‘And then‚ my dear‚ it ruins a woman’s figure; no body‚ however beautiful‚ can withstand it. Even the best is ruined. If you look like your friend‚ Dona Felicidade‚ that’s one thing‚ but when everything is in its proper place‚ oh no‚ life’s hard enough!’
Down below‚ in the street‚ the local hurdy-gurdy man‚ on his evening round‚ was playing the final aria from La Traviata; it was growing dark; the green of the gardens was now a uniform grey‚ and the houses beyond had dissolved into the shadows.
La Traviata reminded Luiza of The Lady of the Camellias; they talked about the novel‚ recalling certain episodes.
‘I was madly in love with Armand when I was a girl!’ Leopoldina said.
‘And I was in love with D’Artagnan‚’ exclaimed Luiza ingenuously.
They both giggled.
‘We started young‚’ remarked Leopoldina. ‘Give me another drop of champagne.’
She took a sip‚ then put down her glass‚ and with a shrug of her shoulders said:
‘But were we so very young? Now‚ everyone begins young! By the age of thirteen‚ they’re already on to their fourth grand passion. That’s women for you‚ we all feel the same!’ And keeping time with her foot‚ she sang:
Love is a sickness that lives in the air;
just stand at your window‚
you’ll catch love’s fever right there.
‘I seem to be able to talk of nothing else today!’ And stretching languidly‚ she went on: ‘But then it’s the best thing life has to offer; everything else is so insipid by comparison. Don’t you agree? Tell me. Don’t you agree?’
Luiza murmured:
‘Hm‚ yes‚’ then added: ‘Absolutely!’
Leopoldina got up and repeated mockingly:
‘Absolutely! The poor little innocent! The little angel!’
She went and stood by the window‚ watching the coming of the twilight through the panes; then‚ very slowly‚ she began:
‘Is it really worth being some humble little person who spends her life always slaving away and putting her family first‚ just so that one day‚ along comes a fever‚ a chill wind or too much sun‚ and it’s goodnight and off to the cemetery with you? No‚ thank you!’
It was quite dark in the room now.
‘Don’t you agree?’ she asked.
The conversation was making Luiza uncomfortable: she could feel herself blushing; but the twilight hour and Leopoldina’s words had the softening effect on her of a temptation. She nevertheless declared such an idea ‘immoral’.
‘Immoral? Why?’
Luiza spoke vaguely of ‘duty’‚ of ‘religion’. But the word ‘duty’ irritated Leopoldina. If there was one thing‚ she said‚ guaranteed to make her angry it was people talking about duty!
‘Duty? To whom? To a scoundrel like my husband?’
She fell silent‚ pacing the room‚ then went on in animated tones:
‘And as for religion‚ huh! Father Estevão‚ the one with the pince-nez and the nice teeth‚ he said he would absolve me as many times as I wanted if I’d go to Carriche with him!’
‘Ah‚ but that’s just priests‚’ murmured Luiza.
‘What do you mean “just priests”? Priests and religion are one and the same! God‚ my dear‚ is somewhere far away and doesn’t concern himself with what we women get up to.’
Luiza thought ‘that way of thinking’ horrible. True happiness‚ according to her‚ lay in being honest and decent.
‘And having a nice game of cards with the family!’ snorted Leopoldina bitterly.
Luiza said firmly:
‘Besides‚ your affairs‚ one after the other…’
Leopoldina interrupted:
‘What about them?’
‘They don’t make you happy!’
‘Of course they don’t!’ exclaimed Leopoldina. ‘But …’ She searched for the right word and presumably chose not to use it; she merely retorted abruptly: ‘They amuse me!’
They lapsed into silence. Luiza ordered the coffee.
Juliana came in with the tray and some candles; shortly after that‚ they moved to the drawing room.
‘Do you know who mentioned you to me yesterday?’ said Leopoldina‚ lying down on the divan.
‘Who?’
‘Castro.’
‘Which Castro?’
‘The one who wears spectacles‚ the banker.’
‘He’s still madly in love with you‚ you know.’
Luiza laughed.
‘No‚ really‚ he’s mad about you‚’ Leopoldina said.
The room was in darkness‚ with the windows open; the street had dissolved into a grey twilight‚ and a breeze‚ languid and sweet‚ softened the night.
Leopoldina sat for a moment saying nothing; but the champagne‚ the near darkness‚ soon bred in her the need for whispered confidences. She stretched out still more on the divan‚ in an attitude of complete abandon; she started talking about ‘him’. This was still Fernando‚ the poet. She adored him.
‘If you only knew!’ she murmured in an ecstatic voice. ‘He’s such a love!’
And there was a warm‚ tender note in her husky voice. Luiza – almost lying down too and in an enervated state – could feel her breath and the warmth of her body; sometimes‚ on an out-breath‚ she seemed almost to sigh; and in response to certain of the more piquant details proffered by Leopoldina‚ she would give a brief‚ heartfelt chuckle‚ as if she were being tickled. But the heavy sound of hobnail boots could be heard coming up the street‚ and then the gas leaped into life in the streetlamp opposite. A pale‚ gentle light filled the room.
Leopoldina sat up. She must leave at once; they were lighting the lamps! The poor boy would be waiting for her! She went into the bedroom‚ despite the darkness there‚ to put on her hat and fetch her sunshade. She had promised him‚ poor lad‚ and she couldn’t let him down. But she really didn’t like to go alone. It was so far! Perhaps Juliana could go with her …
‘Of course‚ she will‚ my dear!’ Luiza said.
Sighing loudly‚ she got lazily to her feet and went to open the door‚ where she came face to face with Juliana‚ who was standing in the shadows in the corridor.
‘Heavens‚ woman‚ you gave me such a fright!’
‘I was just coming to ask if you needed more candles.’
‘No‚ we don’t! Go and put on your shawl so that you can accompany Senhora Dona Leopoldina. Quickly!’
Juliana raced off.
‘So when will I see you again‚ Leopoldina?’ asked Luiza.
As soon as she could manage it. She was thinking of going to Oporto next week to see her Aunt Figueiredo and spend a fortnight at Foz.
The door opened.
‘Whenever you’re ready‚ madam‚’ said Juliana.
Luiza and Leopoldina said goodbye fondly and kissed each other warmly. Luiza whispered in Leopoldina’s ear‚ laughing: ‘Enjoy yourself!’
Then she was alone again. She closed the windows‚ lit the candles and began walking up and down the room‚ slowly rubbing her hands together. And‚ despite herself‚ she could not stop thinking about Leopoldina on her way now to see her lover. Her lover!
She followed her in her mind: she was doubtless walking along‚ talking to Juliana; she arrived; she went up the stairs‚ feeling greatly agitated; she flung open the door and how delicious‚ how eager‚ how deep was that first kiss! She sighed. She too loved someone‚ someone far more handsome‚ far more fascinating. Why had he not come?
She sat indolently down at the piano and began softly‚ sadly singing the fado Leopoldina had taught her:
But however far away he is‚
He is always close to me!
Then that sense of loneliness and abandonment aroused in her feelings of irritation. It was so dull being there all alone! The lovely‚ hot‚ sweet night was drawing her on‚ calling to her from outside‚ to go for romantic strolls‚ or to sit on a bench in the garden‚ holding hands‚ gazing up at the stars. Her life seemed so stupid! And it was all Jorge’s fault! Fancy going off to the Alentejo!
Leopoldina’s words and the thought of her happiness kept coming back to her; a little champagne spark stirred in her blood. The clock in her bedroom began slowly striking nine o’clock‚ and suddenly the doorbell rang.
She jumped; it couldn’t be Juliana back already! She listened‚ frightened. She could hear voices talking at the door.
Joana came into the room and said softly:
‘Madam‚ it’s your cousin; he’s come to say goodbye.’
Luiza smothered a cry and stammered:
‘Tell him to come in!’
She fixed wide‚ feverish eyes on the door. The curtain was drawn back‚ and Bazilio entered‚ looking pale‚ and with a stiff smile on his face.
‘You’re leaving?’ she cried softly‚ throwing herself into his arms.
‘No‚ no‚ I’m not!’ And he held her close. ‘No‚ I just used that as an excuse. I thought you probably wouldn’t receive me at this hour.’
He clasped her to him and kissed her; she allowed him to kiss her‚ abandoned herself to his arms; her lips met his. Bazilio glanced quickly around and‚ still holding her‚ led her across the room‚ murmuring: ‘My love! My sweet!’ He even tripped on the tiger-skin rug by the divan.
‘I adore you!’
‘You frightened me so!’ sighed Luiza.
‘Did I?’
She did not reply; she was losing any clear perception of things; she felt as if she were falling asleep. She muttered: Dear God‚ no! no!’ Her eyes closed.
When the doorbell rang loudly at ten o’clock‚ Luiza had been sitting for some moments on the edge of the divan. She barely had the strength to say to Bazilio:
‘It must be Juliana‚ she had to go out…’
Bazilio smoothed his moustache‚ walked twice around the room and lit a cigar. To break the silence‚ he sat down at the piano‚ played a few notes at random and then‚ quite loudly‚ began to sing the aria from the third act of Faust:
Let me gaze upon your face
Beneath the pale beams of the moon …
With her nerves still jangled‚ Luiza was gradually returning to reality; her knees were trembling. Then‚ when she heard that melody‚ a memory started taking shape in her barely awakened mind. It was one night‚ years ago‚ in a box at the Teatro de São Carlos with Jorge; the spotlight shining onto the stage garden lent it the livid tones of mythical moonlight; and the tenor‚ in an attitude of ecstatic longing‚ was invoking the moon; Jorge had turned to her and said: ‘Wonderful‚ isn’t it?’ And his eyes devoured her. It was the second month of their marriage. She was wearing a dark blue dress. And when they rode back home in the carriage‚ Jorge had put his arm around her waist and repeated the words of the aria:
Let me gaze upon your face
Beneath the pale beams of the moon …
And he had clasped her to him.
She sat motionless on the divan‚ so near the edge‚ she was almost slipping off‚ her arms limp‚ her eyes fixed‚ her face suddenly older‚ her hair coming loose. Bazilio came and gently sat down beside her.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Oh‚ nothing.’
He put his arm around her waist and started talking about how they should find a little place where they could see each other more freely‚ where they could feel more at ease; it really wasn’t a good idea to continue meeting at her house …
And as he spoke‚ he kept turning his face away to exhale the smoke from his cigar.
‘My coming here every day might be noticed.’
Luiza got abruptly to her feet; his words had suddenly reminded her of Sebastião’s visit! And in a slightly distraught voice‚ she said:
‘It’s so late!’
‘Yes‚ you’re right.’
He tiptoed over to pick up his hat‚ then gave her a long kiss and left.
Luiza heard him strike a match‚ then gingerly close the front door.
She was alone; she looked foolishly around her. The silence in the room seemed to her enormous. The candles were burning with a reddish flame. She blinked; her mouth was dry. One of the cushions on the divan had fallen off and she picked it up.
And then she walked dazedly into her bedroom. Juliana came to give her the various lists for the next day. She was just going to sort out the nightlight now‚ she would be down with it soon.
Juliana had taken off her false hair; she almost ran up to the kitchen. Joana‚ who was dozing‚ stretched and yawned widely.
Juliana started trimming the wick on the lamp; her fingers were trembling; her eyes glinted; clearing her throat‚ she said to Joana with a smile:
‘So what time did madam’s cousin arrive‚ then?’
‘Shortly after you went out‚ the clock was just striking nine.’
‘Ah!’
She went downstairs with the lamp and hearing Luiza getting undressed in her room‚ she asked eagerly:
‘Do you not want any tea‚ madam?’
‘No.’
She went into the drawing room and closed the piano lid. There was a strong smell of cigar smoke. She looked carefully‚ furtively around. Then she crouched down eagerly: just by the divan‚ something gleamed. It was a tortoiseshell comb with a gold top‚ belonging to Luiza. She tiptoed back into the room and placed it on the dressing table amongst the curls of false hair.
‘Who’s there?’ asked Luiza’s sleepy voice from the bedroom.
‘It’s only me‚ madam‚ I was just closing the drawing-room door. Goodnight‚ madam!’
At that same moment‚ Bazilio was going into his club. He walked through all the rooms. They were almost deserted. Two men‚ face cupped in hands‚ were bent glumly over their newspapers; here and there‚ next to the small round tables‚ men in white trousers were placidly‚ contentedly eating toast; the closed windows‚ the hot night‚ the listless heat from the gaslights all made for a suffocating atmosphere. He was about to go downstairs‚ when‚ from a gaming room‚ came the abrupt sounds of an altercation; insults were exchanged; someone shouted: ‘You’re lying! You’re the one who’s an ass!’
Bazilio stood still‚ listening. Then suddenly a great silence fell; one of the voices said meekly:
‘Clubs!’
The other responded condescendingly:
‘That’s what you should have done in the first place.’
And the quarrel started up all over again‚ more stridently this time. They swore and cursed.
Bazilio went into the billiards room. Viscount Reinaldo was standing‚ leaning on his cue‚ gravely following his partner’s game; but as soon as he saw Bazilio‚ he went straight over to him and asked eagerly:
‘Well?’
‘It’s done‚’ said Bazilio‚ chewing on his cigar.
‘At last‚ eh?’ exclaimed Reinaldo‚ opening his eyes wide with satisfaction.
‘At last!’
‘Glad to hear it‚ my boy‚ glad to hear it!’
He patted him warmly on the shoulder.
But it was his turn to play; and stretched out over the table‚ one leg in the air‚ in order to gain the precise effect he wanted‚ he said in a voice constrained by his pose:
‘This whole business really was beginning to drag on a bit.’
Tac! He missed the red.
‘Useless!’ he muttered bitterly.
He rejoined Bazilio and as he chalked his cue‚ began:
‘I say…’
Then he whispered something in Bazilio’s ear.
‘Like an angel‚ old chap!’ sighed Bazilio.