Sofia realized that her friend’s resentment had not abated and, as they walked, she took care to add some more fuel to the fire. She told Mariana that, while it wouldn’t be easy, there was still time to free herself. And that she would teach her a way of slipping the shackles of tyranny. It was best not to do it in a single bound, but slowly and surely, so that the first he’d know about it was when she was standing over him with her foot placed firmly on his neck. It would be a matter of a few weeks, three or four at the most. Sofia was ready and willing to help her. And she told Mariana again not to be so soft, that she was no one’s slave, and so on. As she walked, Mariana’s heart sang to itself the “Marseillaise” of matrimony.

They reached Rua do Ouvidor. It was just after noon. There were crowds of people walking, or just standing around, the usual hustle and bustle. Mariana felt a little overwhelmed, as she always did. Uniformity and tranquility, the foundations of her life and character, took their usual knocks from all that hurly-burly. She could scarcely thread her way through the groups of people, still less know where to fix her gaze, such was the jumble of people and the profusion of shops. She stuck close to her friend, and, not noticing that they had passed the dentist’s, was anxious to reach the place and get inside. It would be a refuge, certainly better than the hullabaloo of Rua do Ouvidor.

“Really, this street!” she kept saying.

“What?” responded Sofia airily, turning her head toward her friend, and her eyes toward a young man on the sidewalk opposite.

As an experienced navigator of these choppy waters, Sofia slipped through and around the groups of people with great skill and composure. Her figure commanded attention: those who knew her were pleased to see her again, while those who did not, stopped or turned to admire her élan. And the bounteous lady, full of charity, swept her eyes from left to right, to no great scandal, since Mariana’s presence gave everything a veneer of decency. She babbled away, barely seeming to hear Mariana’s replies, commenting on everything and everyone they passed: people, shops, hats . . . For under the midday sun on Rua do Ouvidor, there were many hats, for both ladies and gentlemen.

“Look at that one,” Sofia would say.

And Mariana would promptly look, although not quite knowing where to look, because everywhere was a swirling kaleidoscope of hats. “Where’s the dentist’s?” she asked her friend. She had to repeat her question before Sofia told her that they had already passed the surgery; now they were going to the end of the street; they would come back later, and finally they did.

“Ouf!” sighed Mariana as they entered the hallway.