From then on this harvest of men proved unstoppable. A man could not invent or repeat the simplest of lies, even when it was to the advantage of the inventor or spreader of the lie, without being thrown into the Casa Verde. Everything was madness. Composers of riddles, aficionados of puzzles and anagrams, slanderers, nosy parkers, preening dandies, and pompous officials: no one escaped the alienist’s emissaries. He spared sweethearts but not strumpets, saying that the first yielded to a natural impulse, the second only to vice. A man could be a miser or a spendthrift and still be hauled off the Casa Verde; hence the claim that there was no rule for determining what constituted complete sanity. Certain chroniclers believe that Simão Bacamarte did not always act in good faith, and they cite in support of this allegation (which I cannot entirely vouch for) the fact that he persuaded the council to pass a bylaw authorizing the wearing of a silver ring on the thumb of the left hand by any person who, without any further proof, documentary or otherwise, claimed to have a drop or two of blue blood in his or her veins. These chroniclers say that Bacamarte’s secret goal was to enrich a certain silversmith in the town, who was a close friend. However, while it is certainly true that the jeweler saw his business prosper following the new municipal ordinance, it is no less true that the bylaw also provided the Casa Verde with a host of new inmates; it would therefore be reckless to determine which of these was the eminent doctor’s true objective. As for the reason justifying the arrest and incarceration of all those who wore the ring, that is one of the obscurest aspects of the entire history of Itaguaí. The likeliest theory is that they were locked up for going around waving their hands about for no good reason, in the streets, at home, even in church. Everyone knows that lunatics wave their hands about a lot. In any event, this is pure conjecture; there is no concrete evidence.

“Where will it all end?” exclaimed the local gentry. “Ah, if only we had supported the Canjicas . . .”

Then one morning, on the day that the council was due to hold a grand ball, the whole town was shaken by the news that the alienist’s own wife had been committed to the Casa Verde. No one could believe it; some scoundrel must surely have made it up. But no, it was absolutely true. Dona Evarista had been taken away at two o’clock in the morning. Father Lopes rushed to see the alienist and inquired discreetly about the matter.