By the time he reached forty, he had given up on his grandiose ambitions, but his essential nature remained the same, and, notwithstanding his desire to marry, he failed to find a bride. More than one lady would have accepted him willingly, but he lost them all because he was too cautious, too circumspect. One day, he noticed Joaninha, who was nearly nineteen and had a pair of eyes that were both beautiful and meek—undefiled by any masculine conversation. Rangel had known her since she was a child; he had carried her in his arms in the Passeio Público and to see the fireworks at Lapa. How could he speak to her of love? But, on the other hand, his relations with the family were such that a marriage should be easy to arrange; it was either her or nothing at all.

This time, the wall was not high and the branch within his grasp; he needed only to stretch out his arm with a modicum of effort and pluck it from its stem. Rangel had been engaged in this undertaking for several months. He would not, however, reach out his arm without first checking all around him to see that no one was coming, and if he spied someone, he would hide his intentions and continue on his way. Whenever he did reach out, a gust of wind would set the branch swaying or a little bird would make a rustling noise in the dry leaves, and that was all it needed for him to withdraw his hand. And so time passed and his passions deepened, giving him many hours of anguish, always followed by higher hopes. And so, on this very night, the Feast of Saint John, he is carrying with him his first love letter, ready to deliver. Two or three good opportunities have already presented themselves, but he keeps putting off the moment; the night is still young! Meanwhile, he carries on reading out fortunes with all the solemnity of a high priest.

Around him, everyone is cheerful and jolly. Some are whispering, others are laughing or talking over each other. Uncle Rufino, the joker in the family, is going around the table with a feather, tickling the ears of the young ladies. João Viegas is waiting impatiently for his friend Calisto, who is late. Where on earth has he got to?

“Everyone out! I need the table. Let’s all go through to the drawing room.”

Dona Adelaide had returned and it was time to lay the table for supper. All the guests migrated to the other room, and it was when she walked that the charms of the clerk’s daughter could most truly be appreciated. Rangel followed her, besotted and puppy-eyed. She went to the window for a few moments, while a little parlor game was being set up, and he followed: it was his opportunity to slip her the letter.