José Dias was so happy that the gravity which was his usual manner in the street gave way to his elastic, restless demeanor. Gesticulating and talking a great deal, he made me stop over and over again at shop windows or theater bills. He recounted the plot of some of the plays and recited monologues in verse. He did all his errands, paid bills, collected rents; for himself he bought a cheap lottery ticket. Then finally, formality carried the day over flexibility, and he began to talk with deliberation again, using his usual superlatives. I didn’t see that this was a natural change; I was afraid that he might have changed his mind, and began to treat him with affectionate words and gestures, until we got back in the bus.