Love, however, always recognizes its intended recipient. When she saw Cândido Neves, she felt at once that he was the husband for her, the one, true husband. They met at a dance; this—to take an image from Candinho’s first job as a typographer—was the opening page of that book, one that would leave the presses badly composed and even more badly bound. The marriage took place eleven months later, and it was the most splendid party their relatives had ever attended. More out of envy than out of friendship, Clara’s friends tried to dissuade her from the path she was about to take. They did not deny that her husband was a decent enough fellow, nor that he loved her, nor even that he had certain other virtues, but, they said, he was rather too fond of having a good time.

“Thank heavens for that,” retorted Clara, “at least I’m not marrying a corpse.”

“No, not a corpse, but . . .”

The friends did not explain further. After the wedding, the newlyweds moved into some shabby lodgings with Aunt Mônica, who spoke to them about the possibility of their having children. They wanted only one, even though it would, of course, be an added burden.

“If you have a child, you’ll all die of hunger,” her aunt said to her niece.

“Our Lady will provide,” said Clara.

Aunt Mônica should have issued this warning or, rather, threat when Candinho came to ask for Clara’s hand in marriage, but she, too, liked a good time, and the wedding would, after all, be an opportunity for a party, which it was.

All three of them enjoyed a laugh. The couple, in particular, would laugh at almost anything. Even their bright, snow-white names—Clara, Neves, Cândido—were the subject of jokes, and while jokes might not put food on the table, they did make them laugh, and laughter is easily digested. Clara took in more sewing, and Cândido did odd jobs here and there, but never found any fixed employment. They still did not give up their dream of having a child. The child, however, unaware of their hopes, was still waiting, hidden in eternity. One day, though, it did finally announce its presence, and regardless of whether it was male or female, it would be the blessèd fruit that would bring the couple the happiness they sought. Aunt Mônica was horrified, but Cândido and Clara laughed at her anxieties.

“God will help us, Auntie,” insisted the mother-to-be.