One thought begets another. The idea of marrying them combined with one of his recent opinions, viz., that calamities and setbacks in matters of the heart come from love being conducted in a purely empirical manner, with no scientific basis. A man and a woman who were aware of the physical and metaphysical reasons for such a sentiment would be more inclined to receive and nourish it effectively than a man and a woman who knew nothing of the phenomenon.

“My young charges are still wet behind the ears,” he said to himself. “I have three or four years ahead of me, and I can start preparing them now. We shall proceed in a logical manner; first, the foundations, then the walls, then the roof . . . rather than starting with the roof . . . Someday we will learn to love just as we learn to read. When that day comes . . .”

He was dazed, dazzled, and delirious. He went to his bookshelves, took down various volumes on astronomy, geology, physiology, anatomy, jurisprudence, politics, and linguistics, opening them, leafing through them, comparing them, and taking a few notes here and there, until he had formulated a program of instruction. It was composed of twenty chapters, and included general concepts of the universe, a definition of life, a demonstration of the existence of man and woman, the organization of societies, the definition and analysis of passion, and the definition and analysis of love, along with its causes, needs, and effects. In truth, they were rather tricky subjects, but he knew how to tame them by using plain, everyday language, giving them a purely familiar tone, just as Fontenelle did when he wrote about astronomy. And he would say emphatically that the essential part of the fruit was the pulp, not the peel.

All of this was highly ingenious, but here is the most ingenious bit. He did not ask them if they wanted to learn. One night, looking up at the sky, he commented on how brightly the stars were shining; and what were the stars? Did they perhaps know what the stars were?

“No, sir.”

From here it was but a short step to beginning a description of the universe. Fulgêncio took that step so nimbly and so naturally that the two youngsters were delighted and charmed, and begged him to continue the journey.

“No,” said the old man. “We won’t exhaust it all today; these things can only be understood slowly. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after . . .”

Thus, stealthily, he began to execute his plan. The two students, astounded by the world of astronomy, begged him every day to continue, and, although Caetaninha was a little confused at the end of this first lesson, she still wanted to hear the other things her godfather had promised to tell them.