“Please help me, Sinhá Rita. Please, for the love of God, by everything you hold most sacred, by the soul of your late husband, save me from death, because I will kill myself if I have to go back.”

Flattered by the boy’s pleas, Sinhá Rita tried to reason with him. The life of a priest was a very holy and pleasant one, she said; in time, he would see that it was best to overcome his dislike of the seminary and then, one day—

“No, never!” insisted Damião, shaking his head and again kissing her hands and saying it would be the death of him.

Sinhá Rita hesitated for a while longer. Then she asked why he could not speak to his godfather.

“My godfather? He’s even worse than Papa. He never listens to me. I shouldn’t think he listens to anyone . . .”

“Doesn’t listen, eh?” Sinhá Rita responded, her pride wounded. “I’ll show you if he listens or not.”

She summoned a slave-boy and ordered him to go straight to Senhor João Carneiro’s house, and if the gentleman wasn’t at home, then he should ask where he could be found and run and tell him that she needed to speak to him urgently.

“Off you go.”

Damião sighed loudly and sadly. To justify the authority with which she had issued these orders, she explained to him that Senhor João Carneiro had been a friend of her late husband and had brought her several new pupils. Then, when he remained leaning in the doorway, looking glum, she tweaked his nose and said, smiling:

“Don’t you worry, my little priest, it’ll all be fine.”

According to her birth certificate, Sinhá Rita was forty years old, but her eyes were only twenty-seven. She was a handsome, lively woman, who enjoyed both her food and a joke; however, when she had a mind to, she could be extremely fierce. She tried to cheer the boy up and, despite the situation, this did not prove difficult. Soon they were both laughing; she was telling him stories and asking him to reciprocate, which he did with considerable humor. One particularly extravagant tale, which required him to pull funny faces, made one of Sinhá Rita’s pupils laugh so much that she neglected her work. Sinhá Rita picked up a cane lying next to the sofa and threatened her:

“Remember the cane, Lucrécia!”