Four days later the population of Itaguai was dismayed to hear that a certain Mr. Costa had been committed to the Green House.

“Impossible!”

“What do you mean, impossible! They took him away this morning.”

Costa was one of the most highly esteemed citizens of Itaguai. He had inherited 400,000 cruzados in the good coin of King João V. As his uncle said in the will, the interest on this capital would have been enough to support him “till the end of the world.” But as soon as he received the inheritance he began to make loans to people without interest: a thousand cruzados to one, two thousand to another, three hundred to another, eight hundred to another, until, at the end of five years, there was nothing left. If poverty had come to him all at once, the shock to the good people of Itaguai would have been enormous. But it came gradually. He went from opulence to wealth, from wealth to comfort, from comfort to indigence, and from indigence to poverty. People who, five years earlier, had always doffed their hats and bowed deeply to him as soon as they saw him a block away, now clapped him on the shoulder, flicked him on the nose, and made coarse remarks. But Costa remained affable, smiling, sublimely resigned. He was untroubled even by the fact that the least courteous were the very ones who owed him money; on the contrary, he seemed to greet them with especial pleasure.

Once, when one of these eternal debtors jeered at him and Costa merely smiled, someone said to him: “You’re nice to this fellow because you still hope you can get him to pay what he owes you.” Costa did not hesitate an instant. He went to the debtor and forgave the debt. “Sure,” said the man who had made the unkind remark, “Costa canceled the debt because he knew he couldn’t collect it anyway.” Costa was no fool; he had anticipated this reaction. Inventive and jealous of his honor, he found a way two hours later to prove the slur unmerited: he took a few coins and loaned them to the same debtor.

“Now I hope . . . ,” he thought.