At last, when night had fallen, a slave arrived bearing a letter for Sinhá Rita from his godfather. No agreement had yet been reached; the father had reacted furiously and tried to smash everything in the room; he had roared out his disapproval, saying that if his lazy rapscallion of a son refused to go back to the seminary, he would have him thrown in jail or sent to the prison ship. João Carneiro had battled very hard to persuade Damião’s father not to rush into a decision, but to sleep on it and ponder deeply whether it was right to give the Church such a rebellious, immoral child. He explained in the letter that he had only used such language as a way of winning the argument. Not that he considered the argument won, by any means, but tomorrow he would go and see the man again and try to win him around. He concluded by saying that, meanwhile, the boy could stay at his house.

Damião finished reading the letter and looked at Sinhá Rita. She’s my last hope, he thought. Sinhá Rita ordered a bottle of ink to be brought, and she wrote this response on the bottom half of João Carneiro’s letter: “My dear Joãozinho, either you save the boy or you’ll never see me again.” She sealed the letter with glue and gave it to the slave for him to deliver with all speed. She again tried to cheer up the reluctant seminarian, who had again donned the monkish hood of humility and consternation. She told him not to worry, that she would sort things out.

“They’ll see what I’m made of! No one’s going to get the better of me!”

It was time to collect in the lace work. Sinhá Rita examined each piece, and all the girls had completed their daily task. Only Lucrécia was still at her lace-making pillow, furiously working the bobbins, even though it was too dark to see. Sinhá Rita went over to her, saw that the work was unfinished, and flew into a rage, seizing her by one ear.

“You lazy girl!”

“Please, senhora, please, for the love of God and Our Lady in Heaven.”

“You idler! Our Lady doesn’t protect good-for-nothings like you!”

Lucrécia broke away and fled the room. Sinhá Rita went after her and caught her by the arm.

“Come here!”

“Please, senhora, please forgive me!”

“No, I won’t forgive you!”

And they came back into the room: Lucrécia dragged along by her ear, struggling and crying and pleading; and Sinhá Rita declaring that she must be punished.

“Where’s that cane?”

The cane was next to the sofa. From the other side of the room, Sinhá Rita, not wanting to let the girl go, shouted to Damião.

“Senhor Damião, give me that cane, will you?”