“Had Father Cabral been waiting long?”
“I didn’t have a lesson today; I got a holiday.”
I explained the reason for the holiday. I also told her that Father Cabral had spoken of my going to the seminary, backing up my mother’s resolve, and I said some nasty, harsh things about him. Capitu thought for some time, and ended up asking me if she could go and pay her compliments to the priest that evening, at our house.
“You can, but what for?”
“Papa will naturally want to go too, but it would be better if he went to Father Cabral’s house; it’s more polite. Not me, I’m nearly a woman,” she concluded, with a laugh.
Her laughter cheered me. The words seemed to be a joke at her own expense, the more so since, after the events of the morning, she was as much a woman as I was a man. I thought her charming, and to tell the truth, I wanted to prove to her that she was a complete woman. I took her gently by the right hand, then the left, and stopped at that point, astonished at myself and trembling. This time it was an idea with hands. I wanted to pull Capitu’s towards me, so as to force her to come with them, but the action still did not correspond to the intention. Even so, I thought myself bold and daring. I wasn’t imitating anyone; I didn’t have the company of other boys to tell me of their exploits. I had never read about the rape of Lucretia. All I knew about the Romans was that they spoke like the people in Padre Pereira’s grammar, and that they were compatriots of Pontius Pilate.* I don’t deny that the conclusion of the morning’s combing was a great step down the road of amorous expertise, but her gestures then were the exact opposite of what she did now. In the morning, she leaned her head back: now she avoided me. Nor was that the only way that the situations differed. On another point, where there seemed to be repetition, there was a contrast.
I think I went as if to pull her towards me. I don’t swear to it, for I was so excited that I could not be completely conscious of my acts; but I must have done, for she drew back and tried to free her hands from mine; then, perhaps because she could not go any further back, she put one of her feet forward and the other back, and turned her chest away from me. It was this gesture that made me hold onto her hands tightly. Her chest finally tired of this and gave in, but her head would not do so too, and, hanging back, rendered all my efforts useless—because, dear reader, I was now making a considerable effort. Not being acquainted with the Song of Songs, it never occured to me to place my left hand under her head; in any case, such a gesture presupposes a meeting of wills, and Capitu, who was now resisting me, would take advantage of it to remove the other hand and get away from me completely. We continued to struggle in this way, noiselessly, because in spite of the movements of attack and defense, we were cautious enough to be sure that no one in the house could hear us; the soul is full of mysteries. Now I know I was pulling her: her head was still drawn back, until it got tired; but then it was the turn of the mouth. Capitu’s mouth began a inverse movement in relation to mine, going to one side while I went to the other. And we were at this point of stalemate, I not daring to go any further, when a little was all that was needed …
At which point we heard knocking at the door, and people talking in the corridor. It was Capitu’s rather, who had come back from the office a little early, as he sometimes did. “Open the door, Nanata! Capitu, open the door!” In appearance it was the same situation as in the morning, when her mother came across us, but only in appearance; in reality, it was different. Consider that in the morning everything was over, and Dona Fortunata’s footsteps were a warning for us to compose ourselves. Now we were struggling with our hands entwined, and nothing had even started.
We heard the bolt on the door that led into the hallway; it was Capitu’s mother opening it. Since I am confessing everything, I hereby affirm that I did not have time to let my friend’s hands go: I thought of doing so and got as far as trying to, but Capitu, before her father came right in the door, made an unexpected movement, put her mouth to mine, and gave of her own accord what she had been determinedly refusing. I repeat, the soul is full of mysteries.