TO DONA LUÍSA P., IN JUIZ DE FORA
Rio, October 5
COULD YOU JUST TELL ME who you asked to deliver those things I wanted? I can’t quite read the name in your letter, and there’s been no sign of him so far, whoever he is. Was it Luís?
I heard tell that you were coming to spend some time in Rio. I do hope so. You’d love it here, despite the heat, which has been tremendous. Today, though, the weather is perfect.
Or, if you’re not coming, I would love to visit you, but, as you know, Papa won’t leave his home comforts, and Mama hasn’t been well. I know she’d do anything to please me, but I’m not quite that selfish, even though it’s a big sacrifice, too, because, quite apart from getting together with my best friend, I’d be able to see if it’s true that there’s still no baby on the way. Someone told me there was, so why deny it?
I’ll send this letter tomorrow. Write soon and give my best wishes to your husband from me and from all of us.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, October 15
It took an age, but finally a long letter has arrived, well, long and short. Thank you for taking the trouble, and please do write again; I hate those little notes of yours, written in a rush, with your mind . . . where exactly? On that cruel husband who cares only about elections, or so I read the other day. I only write short letters when I don’t have much time, but when I have more than enough time, then I write long ones. Or am I stating the obvious? Forgive me if I am.
Those things I asked for arrived the day after my last letter. What would you like me to send you? I have some fashion magazines that came just yesterday, but there’s no one to deliver them. If you could arrange for someone to take them, I’ll also send you a novel I was given this week. It’s called Ruth. Do you know it?
Mariquinhas Rocha is going to be married. Such a shame! She’s so pretty and sweet, still such a child, and she’s getting married to some old man! Not only that, she’s marrying for love. I couldn’t believe it, and everyone says that her father and all her other relatives tried to dissuade her, but she was so insistent that, in the end, they gave in.
To be honest, he’s not what you’d call elderly; he is old, but he’s elegant, too, dapper, healthy, and good-humored; he’s always telling jokes and seems to have a kind heart. Not that I would ever fall for anyone like that. What kind of marriage can there be between a rose and an old wreck?
She’d be much better off marrying his son, who really does deserve a nice girl like her. They say he’s an utter ne’er-do-well, but you know I don’t believe in such things. Love can conquer even the most fickle of hearts.
It seems the wedding will take place in about two months, and I’ll definitely attend the funeral, I mean, wedding. Poor Mariquinhas! Do you remember our afternoons at school? She was the quietest of us all and always so melancholy. Perhaps she knew what Fate had in store for her.
Papa, however, warmly approved of her choice. He’s always saying what a sensible person she is and even says I should follow her example. What do you think? If I had to follow anyone’s example, it would be yours, Luísa, because you did choose well. Don’t show this letter to your husband, though, it might go to his head.
Are you really not coming to Rio? That’s a shame, because apparently an opera company is about to arrive, and Mama is feeling much better. All of which means that I can finally have some fun. Mariquinhas’s future stepson, the one she should have chosen over his father, says it’s a wonderful company, and regardless of whether it is or not, it will certainly be amusing. And there you are stuck in the countryside!
It’s suppertime. Write when you can, but no more of those microscopically small letters. Either a lot or nothing at all.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, October 17
I wrote you a letter the day before yesterday, and today, I’m adding a brief note (just this once) to tell you that apparently another young woman fell in love with Mariquinhas’s aging fiancé and became quite ill with despair. A complicated story. Can you understand that? If it were the son, yes, but the father!
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, October 30
You’re really very naughty. Just because I mentioned the fellow a couple of times, must you immediately go thinking I’m in love with him? As Papa would say: it shows a complete lack of logic. And, I would add, a lack of friendship too.
If I did develop a fondness, an affection, or whatever for someone, who would be the first to know? Why, you! Were we not each other’s confidante for all those years? Your thinking I would keep such a thing from you is evidence that you’re not my friend at all, because such unfair remarks could only have their basis in a lack of affection.
No, Luísa, I feel nothing for the young man, whom I hardly know. I only mentioned him as a point of comparison with his father; and if I were disposed to get married, I would definitely prefer the young man to the old, but that’s as far as it goes.
And don’t go thinking that Dr. Alberto (for that is his name) is anything special; he’s very handsome and elegant, but he has a rather pretentious air about him and seems somewhat mean-spirited. And you know how particular I am about such things. If I don’t find the kind of husband I want, then I will remain single for the rest of my days. I would prefer that to being chained to some dreadful boor, however stylish.
Nor would it be enough for him to have all the qualities I imagine a man should have for him to win my heart. There’s a fellow who’s been visiting us for a while now, and any other girl would be instantly captivated by his manners, but he makes not the slightest impression on me.
And do you know why?
The reason is simple; all the charm and all the supposed affection he lavishes on me, all the solemn compliments he pays me, do you know what they’re about, Luísa? It’s because I’m rich. So don’t worry, when the man heaven has destined for me finally appears, you will be the first to know. For the moment, I am as free as the swallows flying around outside the house.
And as revenge for your slanderous suggestion, I will write no more. Farewell.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, November 15
I’ve been ill for the last two days with a horrible cold I caught when leaving the theater, where I went to see a new play, highly praised and very dull.
Do you know who I saw there? Mariquinhas and her fiancé in their box, as well as her stepson, too, or, rather, her future stepson, if all goes to plan. She looked so happy chatting away to her fiancé! And you know, from a distance, in the gaslight, the old man looks almost as young as his son. Who knows, maybe she will be happy!
Many congratulations on the news that a little one is on the way. Mama sends her congratulations too. Luís will deliver a few fashion magazines along with this letter.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, November 27
Your letter arrived while we were having breakfast, and I’m very glad I read it afterward, because had I read it before, I would never have finished breakfast. Who put such an idea in your head? Me, in love with Alberto? That is a joke in very bad taste, Luísa! The person who told you that story was clearly out to embarrass me. If you had met him, then I wouldn’t need to protest. I’ve told you about his good qualities, but, as far as I’m concerned, his defects far outweigh any such qualities. You know what I’m like; the slightest stain ruins even the purest white. He’s like a statue, yes, that’s the right word, because there is something rather stiff and sculptural about Alberto.
Ah, Luísa, the man heaven has destined for me has not yet arrived. I know this because I still haven’t felt inside me the tremor of sympathy that signals perfect harmony between two souls. When he does arrive, rest assured that you will be the first to know.
You will ask why, if I’m such a fatalist, I won’t admit the possibility of a husband who does not possess all the required qualities.
Well, you’re wrong.
God made me like this, and gave me this innate ability to recognize and love superior beings, and God will send a creature worthy of me.
And now that I’ve explained myself, allow me to scold you a little. Why listen to such calumnies? You’ve known me long enough now to set aside such senseless gossip. So why did you not do so?
You spent two whole pages defending Mariquinhas. I’m not accusing her, I simply deplore what she’s doing. Her fiancé may turn out to be an excellent husband, but I still don’t think he’s good enough for her. And that is what I deplore.
There is a simple explanation for this divergence of opinion. I am a single woman with my head stuffed full of fantasies, dreams, ambitions, and poetry; you are already the mistress of a house, a serene and happy wife and mother-to-be; you see things through a different prism.
Is that right?
Apparently, the opera company isn’t coming after all. The city’s very lively today, though; there are bands playing in the streets; and there’s been good news about the war. We’ll definitely be going out for a walk today. Don’t you miss Rio?
Farewell.
Regards to your husband from all of us.
Raquel
TO DONA LUISA
Rio, December 20
You’re quite right. I am an ungrateful wretch. It’s been nearly a month since I last wrote, despite getting two letters from you. It would take me a while to explain the delay, and, alas, I don’t have time just now, because my cousins are staying with us for a few days.
Anyway, you confess, do you, to simply wanting to sound me out? I knew no one could possibly have said such things to you about Dr. Alberto.
Mariquinhas’s wedding is set for the 5th of January. We will all go to watch the sacrifice. Forgive me, Luisa, you know how sarcastic I can be sometimes, and . . . you will forgive me, won’t you?
And yet, shall I tell you something? I’ve changed my mind in one respect. I now think: far better the father than the son. Alberto has such a frivolous nature, so superficial and silly! The father is a serious person and very friendly, too, but friendly without ever descending into silliness. He’s very distinguished, and a lively conversationalist, clever and wise.
Oh, yes, she’s much better off with the father.
You ask me what I will do if I never find the ideal husband. I’ve told you before: I will stay single. Marriage is a very big thing, the highest of states, I agree, but it must not be a form of captivity, because captivity is anything that does not allow us to realize our innermost aspirations.
Thank you for your advice, but I have to say that you are speaking as someone who is happy, and, for you, marriage, any marriage, is a foretaste of paradise.
I don’t believe it is always so.
It is true—although we will all have our own views on the subject—that Mariquinhas might well be happy, given that her chosen husband appears to speak to her heart. I don’t deny this, but I still pity her, because (I repeat), I cannot comprehend the union of a rose and an old wreck. And I will write no more so as not to speak ill of her. Forgive me these babblings, and know that I remain your friend, now and forever.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 8
Mariquinhas is now married. It was an intimate little ceremony, but rather splendid too. The bride looked magnificent, happy, and proud. The same could be said of the groom, who seemed even younger than he appeared in the theater that time, so much so that I almost doubted his age. I kept expecting him to take off his mask and admit that he was his own son’s brother.
I bet you’re wondering if I felt envious, aren’t you?
Well, yes, I did.
Although I don’t know if it was envy exactly, but I must confess that I did give a little sigh when I saw our lovely Mariquinhas with her veil and her garland of orange blossom looking around at us with a truly celestial light in her eyes, glad to be bidding farewell to the futile world that is the life of a young single woman.
Yes, I did sigh.
If I had been able to set down my feelings that same night, you would have had a page of literature worthy of being published in one of the newspapers.
That’s all over now.
What isn’t over, though—because it existed before and will always exist, because it was born with me and will die with me—is the dream of a love I’ve never encountered on Earth, a love I cannot express, but which must exist, since I have the image of it in my mind and my heart.
Whenever Mama sees me looking bored or daydreaming, she usually says I have my head in the clouds, unaware perhaps that this is an exact description of my state of mind. Isn’t thinking such things just like having one’s head up there in the clouds somewhere?
I’ve just reread what I’ve written, and if I had more writing paper to hand, I would cross it all out. Unfortunately, I’ve run out of paper, it’s midnight, and this letter needs to be sent off early tomorrow morning. So feel free to cross out the whole lot; there’s no point in preserving nonsense.
There’s no other news worthy of mention. Oh, I forgot to say that I’ve discovered one fine quality in Dr. Alberto. Can you guess? He dances divinely. But you’ll say I’m a gossip! And so that you can say no more, I’ll stop here.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 10
This is just a short note to tell you that we’re going to be putting on a play, as we used to at school. Dr. Alberto has been asked to write it, and I’m assured that it will be good. Carlota is performing with me. The male characters will be played by Cousin Abreu, Juca, and Dr. Rodrigues. Ah, if only you were here!
Raquel
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, January 15
My husband wants to come to Rio toward the end of next month, so you and I will finally meet up again after all these months apart. I’m only writing to give you this good news, which I know will please you.
I should also issue a warning: you will have to hide in person what you’re hiding from me in your letters.
Farewell.
Luísa
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 20
What am I hiding from you in my letters? I’ve been thinking and pondering, but I don’t know what you mean. I suppose you could be referring to Alberto, but after everything I’ve said about him, that would be going too far.
Explain yourself.
As for the news that you’re coming to Rio, I’m really pleased, but however hard I try to put into words just how pleased I am, I can’t. I don’t know how to, the words won’t come. Dr. Alberto (yes, him!) was saying only the other day that human language is fine for saying what’s in our minds, but incapable of expressing what is in our hearts. And he added this old, but ingenious saying: the head speaks with the lips, and the heart with the eyes.
You will, therefore, have to guess what I’m feeling and come as soon as possible. How’s the baby?
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 28
It’s unbearably hot, but now that I’ve opened the window onto the garden, I can see the sky “all embroidered with stars,” as the poets say, and that spectacle makes up for the heat. What a night, Luísa! I love these great silences, because then I can hear myself, and I live more intensely in five minutes of solitude than in twenty hours of hustle and bustle.
Mariquinhas Rocha was here tonight with her husband. They both seem very happy, she even more than he, which seems to me a complete inversion of the natural laws.
Are you surprised to hear me talking about “natural laws”? It’s not my idea, but that of Mariquinhas’s stepson, Dr. Alberto. We were talking about Mariquinhas’s many good and saintly qualities, and I was saying that she has always been like that ever since she was a child.
“She still is a child,” he said, smiling. “I can’t address as ‘stepmother’ a creature who looks more like my younger sister.”
“She may be younger in age,” I retorted, “but in circumspection and composure she’s far older than you, sir.”
He smiled rather wanly, then went on:
“My father is happy, and my stepmother seems even happier than him. Isn’t that an inversion of the natural laws?”
Think what you may of his views, but I take this opportunity to mention that, in your last letter, there are a couple of lines in which there still seems to be a hint of suspicion. Do write and tell me how I can convince you that, for me, he is just one man among many?
Go on, admit you’ve been cruel to me and prepare yourself to receive a sermon on the subject the very first time we’re together again.
Do you know who I saw today? I’ll give you a sweet if you can guess. Garcia, yes, the same Garcia who was once in love with y . . . No, no, let’s stop there.
Raquel
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, February 10
I’m not going to admit anything, and I was never cruel. I had my suspicions and I preferred to be open about it, rather than keep it to myself. That is what friendship demands. Why should we abandon the frankness and trust of our school days?
I don’t believe there is any basis for my suspicions, but I believe something else too. I imagine he cuts rather a grotesque figure, and that it was your vanity that was wounded, not your heart. Go on, admit it.
Do you know something? You’re much more poetic than you used to be, more romantic and fanciful. It’s your age, I know, but there are limits, Raquel. Don’t confuse romance with life, or you’ll end up very unhappy indeed . . .
A sermon! And there was I about to give you a sermon, a dull, boring one, and pointless to boot. Let’s talk of things more prosaic. My husband wants to enter politics. Doesn’t that word send a shiver down your spine? Politics and honeymoons just don’t go together! But we’ll see what happens. Greetings from him and me to your mama and you. See you soon.
Luísa
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, February 15
You’re quite wrong to imagine that Dr. Alberto cuts a grotesque figure; I’ve told you before that he’s an elegant young man, and even that rather slow, sculptural air of his seems to have disappeared since he’s become a regular visitor to our house.
So, no, it wasn’t my vanity that was wounded, nor my heart. I simply felt that you didn’t believe me.
I could give you a dissertation on love right now, but I will refrain from doing so, knowing that I would simply be teaching the priest how to say the Lord’s Prayer.
Your husband wants to get into politics, does he? You’ll be surprised at my opinion on the subject, an unlikely one for a daydreamer, as you call me. I think that politics could bring you a pinch of inconveniences and a whole peck of advantages.
Politics is sure to be a rival, but when weighed in the balance, it’s infinitely preferable to some other kind of rival. It at least occupies mind and life, but leaves the heart free and pure. Besides, I’m not always the delver-into-depths that you think I am; I feel a pinch of ambition in myself, the ambition to be . . . a minister! Are you laughing? Me, too, which is proof that my mind is unpreoccupied and free, as free as this pen racing now over the paper in a hand I’m not entirely sure you’ll be able to read. Farewell.
DR. ALBERTO TO DONA RAQUEL
February 18
Forgive my boldness. I write to beg you on bended knee for the answer that your eyes refuse to give me. I cannot say in this letter exactly what I feel; I couldn’t put that into words, but your mind must have understood what is going on in my heart, you must have read on my face what I would never dare to say out loud.
Alberto
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
February 21
Mama was keen to come and visit you, but I, alas, am feeling unwell, and so we have postponed the journey. When are you going to keep your promise to come and spend a few days in Rio? We’ll have much to talk about.
Raquel
TO DONA LUÍSA
March 5
This is not a letter, only a note. Do you know what the human heart is? A riddle. “A mystery!” you will cry when you read these lines. And so it is.
Raquel
ALBERTO TO DONA RAQUEL
March 8
Oh, you do not know how grateful I am for your letter! At last! It was a ray of light in the darkness of my uncertainty. Am I loved? Am I deluding myself? Do you feel the same passion that is devouring my heart, one that is incapable of raising me up to heaven, but perfectly capable of carrying me down into hell?
You are quite right when you ask how I can have failed to see the answer in your eyes. I did, indeed, believe I could see my happiness there, but what if I were mistaken? I did not imagine that supreme happiness could come so quickly, and if I was mistaken, I don’t know how I could live . . .
Why do you doubt me? Why do you fear that my love could merely be a way of passing the time? What mortal would play with the glorious crown brought down to Earth in the hands of an angel?
No, Raquel, if I may call you by that name? No, my love is as vast, chaste, and sincere as all true loves.
One word from you can transform that passion into the sweetest, most delicious state of bliss. Will you be my wife? Say it, say the word.
Alberto
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 10
The heart is a sea, subject to the influence of the moon and the winds. Is that definition any use to you? It’s such a shame that your note did not contain a few more lines, then I would know everything. Still, I can tell one thing: you’re in love.
Luísa
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 17
I wrote to you on the 10th of this month, but have not yet received a reply.
Why?
I wondered if perhaps you had been ill, but I think someone would have told me if you had.
This letter will be delivered to you in person, although the bearer will not be coming back here immediately. Nevertheless, because it is being delivered to you personally, I will at least know immediately how you are.
Come, now, make an effort.
Farewell.
Luísa
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 24
Still no answer. What is going on, Raquel?
The person who delivered my previous letter wrote to say that he had delivered it to you personally, and that you were definitely not ill. So why this neglect on your part? This is my last letter. If you don’t write back, I will assume you have another, more deserving friend, and that you have entirely forgotten your confidante from school.
Luísa
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, March 30
Forget you? You must be mad! Where would I find a better or kinder friend than you? It’s true that I haven’t written, but there are a thousand reasons for that, each more reasonable than the last, with the main reason, or, rather, the one that contains all the other reasons, being just one . . . And I don’t know how to tell you what that is.
Yes, Luísa, the purest, most ardent love imaginable, and the most unexpected too. Your daydreaming friend, the one who lives with her head in the clouds, saw up there in the clouds the man her heart had hoped for, who was everything she had dreamed him to be and had despaired of ever finding.
I can say no more, I don’t know how to. Everything I could write would be so inferior to the reality. But come, come, and you will perhaps read in my face the happiness I’m feeling, and see in his face the superior quality I always longed for and which is so rare on this Earth.
In short, I am happy!
Raquel
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, April 8
Your letter finally arrived, and just in time, too, because I was ready to forget all about you. Nevertheless, I would still refuse to forgive you were it not for the reason you give. And, heavens, what a reason it is! So you have found love at last, found the man, or, rather, the archangel that my dear delver-into-depths was searching for! What does he look like? Is he handsome? Tall? Short? Tell me everything.
Now I see that I was in danger of making you miss your chance of happiness. I talked so much about Dr. Alberto that you could, as sometimes happens, have fallen in love with him, and then, when this other man arrived, it would have been too late.
Tell me, is he old like Mariquinhas Rocha’s husband? Now, don’t be angry, Raquel, but we do sometimes have to eat our words, and it’s just possible that you’ve been punished for saying what you said about him. For my part, I wouldn’t know what to say, just as long as he loves my Raquel and is a worthy husband. A young man would still be preferable, though.
I dare not ask you to send us a picture of him, although my husband would like one. Don’t be annoyed, I told him everything, and he sends his congratulations. I will bring mine with me.
Luísa
DONA RAQUEL TO DR. ALBERTO
April 10
I am very angry with you for not coming yesterday; how easily you forget me.
Come today or I really will be angry. And do bring a picture of yourself; I’ll tell you why later.
You missed a very interesting evening yesterday; Dona G. was here, and, naturally, she missed you. Did you miss her? Ah, pity poor Raquel! Farewell.
Raquel
ALBERTO TO DONA RAQUEL
April 10
Forgive me for not coming last night, although be assured that you were much in my thoughts.
Your father has invited me to come and have supper with the family tonight; I’ll arrive early.
I’ll bring a picture of myself with me, too, even though I don’t know why you want it. I just hope you won’t put it to bad use.
As for Dona G., what can I say except that I find her a dull, affected girl, who doesn’t interest me in the least? If you like, I will merely greet her, but not talk to her at all. What more do you want of me?
Farewell, my suspicious one. Know only that I love you lots and lots and lots, now and always.
Your Alberto
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
April 17
Great news! Yesterday, he asked my father for my hand in marriage. You can’t imagine how happy I am! I wish you were here so that I could load you with kisses. But you’ll come to the wedding, won’t you? If you don’t, I won’t marry.
As you will have guessed, the picture included in this letter is of my fiancé. Isn’t he handsome? So distinguished! So intelligent! So soulful! And speaking of his soul, I do not believe that God has ever sent another such soul into the world. I don’t believe I deserve him.
Come quickly; the wedding will be in May.
Tell your husband.
Raquel
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, April 22
Honestly! You tell me everything but the name of your fiancé!
Luísa
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, April 27
You’re quite right, I’m so distracted. But happiness explains and excuses everything. My fiancé is Dr. Alberto.
Raquel
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, May 1
!!!
Luísa