Chapters (32)
- Cover
- Title
- Foreword by Michael Wood
- Introduction
- Augusta’s Secret
- Luís Duarte’s Wedding
- The Alienist
- How to Be a Bigwig
- Dona Benedita
- The Loan
- The Most Serene Republic
- The Mirror
- A Visit from Alcibiades
- The Devil’s Church
- Final Chapter
- Posthumous Picture Gallery
- The Chapter on Hats
- Ex Cathedra
- The Academies of Siam
- Fame
- The Gentleman’s Companion
- Mr. Diplomat
- Life!
- The Canon, or the Metaphysics of Style
- The Cane
- Midnight Mass
- Canary Thoughts
- Father Against Mother
- Maria Cora
- The Tale of the Cabriolet
- About The Author
- About The Translators
The news spread from neighbor to neighbor. All that remained now was to wait for the great day to dawn. Clara worked even harder than before, well, she had no choice, since, on top of her paid work, she was also busily making the baby’s layette out of odds and ends. Indeed, she thought of little else, measuring out diapers, sewing dresses. What little money they earned was slow to come in. Aunt Mônica did help, but only reluctantly.
“You’re in for a wretched life, you’ll see,” she would sigh.
“But other people have children, don’t they?” Clara would ask.
“They do, and those children are always guaranteed to find food on the table, too, however scant . . .”
“What do you mean, ‘guaranteed’?”
“I mean because their father has a guaranteed job, trade, or occupation, but what does the father of this poor unfortunate creature do with his time?”
As soon as Cândido Neves heard about this conversation, he went to see the aunt, not in anger, but nonetheless rather less meekly than usual, and he asked if, since living with them, she had ever once gone hungry.
“The only time you’ve fasted was during Holy Week, and that’s only because you chose not to have supper with us. We’ve never gone without our salt cod . . .”
“I know, but there’s only the three of us.”
“And soon we’ll be four.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“What would you have me do, beyond what I’m already doing?”
“Something that would bring in a steady wage. Look at the cabinetmaker on the corner, or the haberdasher, or the typographer who got married on Saturday, they all have guaranteed employment. Now, don’t be angry. I’m not saying you’re lazy, but your chosen trade is so uncertain. There are some weeks when you don’t earn a penny.”
“Yes, but other nights make up for that entirely, or even more so. God is by my side, and any fugitive slave knows I mean business. They rarely resist and some give themselves up straightaway.”
He was proud of this, and spoke of hope as if it were money in the bank. Then he laughed and made the aunt laugh, too, for she was, by nature, a cheerful soul and was already looking forward to another party when the child was baptized.