“We welcome great men,” the rector said, “as long as they are humble and good. True greatness lies in simplicity. Come in, boy.”

That had been his introduction to the seminary. Shortly afterward, he had run away. We see him now standing in the street, frightened, uncertain, not knowing where to turn for shelter or advice; in his mind he reviewed his various relatives and friends, but none seemed quite right. Then a thought occurred to him:

“I’ll appeal to Sinhá Rita! She’ll send for my godfather and tell him she wants me to leave the seminary. Perhaps that way . . .”

Sinhá Rita was a widow and João Carneiro’s mistress. Damião had a vague understanding of what this meant, and it occurred to him that he might be able to take advantage of the situation. But where did she live? He was so disoriented that it took him a few minutes to find the house, which was in Largo do Capim.

“Good heavens! Whatever’s the matter?” cried Sinhá Rita, sitting bolt upright on the sofa on which she was reclining

Damião had burst in unannounced, looking utterly terrified, for when he reached Sinhá Rita’s house, he saw a priest coming down the street, and, in sheer panic, he violently pushed open Sinhá Rita’s front door, which, fortunately for him, was neither locked nor bolted. Once inside, he peered through the shutters to watch the priest, who had clearly failed to notice him and walked on by.

“Whatever’s the matter, Senhor Damião?” she said again, for she had recognized him now. “What are you doing here?”

Damião, who was trembling so much he could barely speak, told her not to be afraid, it was nothing very important, and he would explain everything.

“All right, sit down and explain yourself, then.”

“First, I swear that I haven’t committed a crime of any kind . . .”

Sinhá Rita stared at him in alarm, and all the young girls in the room—boarders and day pupils—froze over their lace-making pillows, their bobbins and hands suddenly motionless. Sinhá Rita earned her living largely from teaching lace-making, cutwork, and embroidery. While the boy was catching his breath, she ordered the girls to go back to their tasks, while she waited for Damião to speak. Finally, he told her everything, about how much he hated the seminary and how he was certain he would not make a good priest. He spoke with great passion and begged her to save him.

“But how? I can’t do anything.”

“You could if you wanted to.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not getting involved in family matters; besides, I hardly know your family, and they say your father has a very nasty temper on him!”

Damião saw that he was lost. In desperation, he knelt at her feet and kissed her hands.