It was the fateful moment. Not a word from the notary, not even an invitation to dine with him; nothing. It was the end of the road. But supreme moments call for supreme efforts. Custódio felt this cliché in all its strength, and, suddenly, like a shot, he asked the notary if he couldn’t at least give him ten mil-réis.

“Shall I show you?”

And the notary unbuttoned his jacket, took out his wallet, opened it, and removed two notes of five mil-réis.

“See? That’s all I have,” he said. “What I can do is share them with you; I’ll give you one five mil-réis note, and I’ll keep the other; will that do?”

Custódio accepted the five mil-réis, not glumly or with bad grace, but smiling, indeed as thrilled as if he had just conquered Asia Minor. There was his dinner taken care of. He shook the other man’s hand, thanked him for his kindness, bade him farewell for now—a “for now” full of implicit meanings. Then he left; the beggar slipping out the door of the notary’s office and the general marching boldly down the street, nodding fraternally to the English merchants making their way up toward the suburbs. Never had the sky seemed so blue or the evening so clear; all the men around him had a gleam of hospitality in their eyes. With his left hand he lovingly squeezed the five-mil-réis note in his trouser pocket, the residue of a grand ambition which, but a short time ago, had soared boldly up to the sun like an eagle, and now flapped modestly with the flightless wings of a chicken.

The Most Serene Republic

THE MOST SERENE REPUBLIC

(Canon Vargas’s Lecture)

GENTLEMEN,

Before informing you of a new discovery, which I consider will bring some luster to our nation, please allow me to thank you for your prompt response to my invitation. I know that only the loftiest of interests have brought you here today, but I am also aware—and it would be ungrateful on my part not to be—that your entirely legitimate sense of scientific curiosity is mingled with a modicum of affection. I very much hope that I may prove worthy of both.