“As I say, I appreciate your frankness and I accept your daughter even without a fortune. I have no fortune, either, but I am still strong enough to work.”

“You accept her, then?”

“Listen, I accept Dona Adelaide on one condition: that she wait awhile for me to begin my new life. I intend going to the government and asking for a post there, if I can still remember what I learned at school. As soon as I’m properly established, I will come back for her. Do you agree?”

“If she’s happy with that,” said Vasconcelos, grasping at this one last hope, “then it’s decided.”

Gomes went on:

“Good, speak to her about this tomorrow, and send me her response. Ah, if only I still had my fortune, then I could prove to you how much I love her.”

“Fine, we’ll leave it at that.”

“I await your response.”

And with that they said goodbye.

Vasconcelos was left with this thought:

“The only credible part of what he said is that he now has nothing. But there’s no point in waiting: hard on hard never made a brick wall.”

As Gomes was going down the stairs, he was saying to himself:

“What I find odd is that he should tell me that he’s poor at precisely the moment when I’ve just discovered my own ruin. But he’ll wait in vain: in this case, two halves don’t make a whole.”

Vasconcelos went downstairs.

His intention was to tell Augusta the result of his conversation with Adelaide’s suitor. One thing, however, was still bothering him: Augusta’s refusal to agree to Adelaide’s marriage without giving any reason.

He was still thinking about this when, as he walked through the hall, he heard voices in the parlor.

It was Augusta talking to Carlota.

He was about to go in when these words reached his ears:

“But Adelaide’s still such a child.”

It was Augusta’s voice.

“A child!” said Carlota.

“Yes. She’s not old enough to marry.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stop this marriage, even if it does take place in a few months’ time, because Gomes really doesn’t seem such a bad fellow.”

“Oh, he isn’t, but I just don’t want Adelaide to marry.”

Vasconcelos pressed his ear to the keyhole, anxious not to miss a single word of this dialogue.

“What I don’t understand,” said Carlota, “is your insistence on her not marrying at all. Sooner or later, she’ll have to.”

“Yes, but as late as possible,” said Augusta.

A silence fell.

Vasconcelos was growing impatient.

“Oh,” Augusta went on, “if you knew how I dread Adelaide getting married.”

“But why?”

“Why? You seem to have forgotten something, Carlota. What I dread are the children she’ll have—my grandchildren! The idea of being a grandmother, Carlota, is just too awful!”