Let’s proceed to the embargoes … And why should we go on to the embargoes? God knows what an effort it is to write the briefs out, and more still to recount them. Of the new circumstance that Escobar brought to my attention I can only say what I said then, that is, that it was useless.
“Useless?”
“Almost useless.”
“Then it’s of some use.”
“As backing for the reasons we already have it’s worth less than the tea you’re going to have with me.”
“It’s late for tea.”
“We’ll have it quickly.”
We did so. While we were having it, Escobar was looking at me warily, as if he thought that I was rejecting this new circumstance to avoid having to write it out; but such a suspicion was unworthy of our friendship.
When he had gone, I told Capitu of my doubts; she dissolved them with that subtle art she had, a way with her, a charm all of her own, capable of dissolving the sadness of Olympio himself.*
“It must have been the business of the embargoes,” she concluded; “and if he came here at this hour, it must be because he’s worried about the case.”
“You’re right.”
One thing leads to another, and I talked of other doubts. At this time, I was a well full of them; they croaked inside me, like real frogs, even to the point of sometimes keeping me awake at night. I told her that I was beginning to find my mother cool and aloof with her. Even here, Capitu’s subtle arts worked!
“I’ve already told you what it is: that’s the way with mothers-in-law. Your little Mamma is jealous of you; as soon as it passes and she begins to miss you, she’ll go back to what she was. When she wants to see her grandson …”
“But I’ve noticed that now she’s cool with Ezequiel, too. When he goes with me, Mamma no longer makes such a fuss of him.
“Who’s to say she’s not well?”
“Should we go and have dinner with her tomorrow?”
“Yes, let’s… No … AU right then.”
We went to have dinner with my old mother. Now she could be called that, even though her hairs were not all white, or even completely white, and her face was still comparatively fresh; it was a kind of fifty-year-old youthfulness, or flourishing old age, as you will … But let’s not be melancholy: I don’t wish to speak of the moisture in her eyes; when we arrived and left. She hardly entered into the conversation; nor was she any different from usual. José Dias spoke of marriage and its beauties, of politics, Europe and homeopathy, Uncle Cosme of his aches and pains, cousin Justina of the neighbors, or of José Dias, when he was out of the room.
When we came back home, at night, we went on foot, and spoke of my doubts. Again Capitu told me we should wait. All mothers-in-law are like that; there comes a day when they change. As she talked to me, her tenderness grew. Thenceforth, she was more and more affectionate with me; she didn’t wait for me at the window, so as not to awaken my jealousy, but as I was going in, I saw at the top of the steps, through the gate, the delightful face of my wife and companion, as full of laughter as it had been all through our childhood. Sometimes Ezequiel was with her; we had accustomed him to seeing the kiss we gave when I left for work and when I came back, and he would cover my face with kisses.