Yaqub and Omar wore linen suits and bow ties; they were exactly alike, with the same haircut and the same scent of essence of Pará sprinkled on their clothes. Domingas, arm in arm with both, also had to spruce herself up to accompany them. Omar tore away, ran on, and was the first to kiss Estelita’s cheek and give her a bouquet of flowers. In the drawing room, Zahia and Nahda Talib were chatting with Livia, a niece of the Reinosos, a big girl with blondish hair; two children from a family that lived in the Seringal Mirim neighborhood were serving guaraná and biscuits made with Brazil nuts to the guests. They were awaiting the projectionist, and the minutes dragged by; they couldn’t wait to sit face to face with the white basement wall, and see the story, of adventure or romance, that transformed Saturday into the most anxiously anticipated moment of the week. Then heavy, dark clouds began to close in, and Abelardo Reinoso decided to turn the generator on. In the brightness of the room, a battalion of toy soldiers was arranged on the table, and foreign stamps passed from hand to hand, with their tiny pictures of landscapes, faces, and faraway flags. The big girl with the blond hair admired a particularly rare stamp, and her arms brushed against the twins’. She stroked the stamp with her index finger, while the other boys amused themselves with the green battalion, and she seemed attracted to the scent surrounding the twins. Livia smiled at one, then the other, and this time, said Domingas, it was Omar’s turn to get jealous. He made a face, took off his bow tie, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his sleeves. Then he snorted, making an effort to be polite. He stammered: “Should we go out in the garden?”; still looking at the stamp, she said: “But it’s going to rain, Omar. Just listen to the thunder.” Then she took a stamp out of the album and offered it to Yaqub. Omar really hated that, Domingas said; he hated seeing his brother’s fingers playing cat’s cradle with Livia’s. She was no fool. A forward girl with an artless smile, she attracted the twins along with all the boys in the neighborhood whenever she climbed the mango tree; around the trunk a swarm of boys lifted up their heads and followed the rippling of her red shorts with their eyes. But the ones she really liked were the twins; she looked coyly at both; sometimes, when she was distracted, she would look at Yaqub as if he had something the other didn’t. Yaqub was a little shy; did he notice? Omar thought that after the dance at the Benemous’ house Livia would have a bite at the apple, and would be seen with him at the matinees at the Guarany or the Odeon. He had already promised to steal his parents’ Land Rover and take her on a trip to the waterfalls at Taruma. Zana suspected something, and hid the key to the jeep, taking the wind out of his sails. Livia and Yaqub were holding hands, and Omar had already moved away when the projectionist arrived. In his leather case were the projector and the roll of film. He was tall and unhurried, with a thin face divided in two by an enormous mustache: “Roll up for the big show, kids! See all your dreams come true!”