Bel found herself unable to reply. She lay silently in his arms, eyes tightly closed, feeling as though all the elements which made up her life were rising to an unbearable crescendo.

‘Senhor da Silva Costa has booked me a cabin on a steamer that leaves on Friday,’ he continued, urgency in his voice. ‘I must take it, as many of the shipping companies are owned by Americans. If the financial situation worsens further, there may be no boats leaving the port in Rio for many months.’

Bel listened to Laurent, finally realising just how deep this crisis in America went. ‘You sail on Friday? In three days’ time?’ she finally managed to whisper.

‘Yes. And I beg you, mon amour, to join me. I think it is time for you to follow me,’ he urged. ‘However much I love you, there is nothing for me here: no life, and certainly not one we could share together, given your circumstances. I feel guilty for forcing a decision on you when your precious maman is barely cold in her grave. But I hope you can understand why I must go.’ His eyes searched her face for an answer.

‘Yes, you’ve waited for me long enough.’ Bel sat upright and pulled the sheet across her naked breasts. ‘Laurent, there is something I must tell you . . .’

Gustavo emerged from the crowded senate building with relief. Inside, both the temperature and the tension had reached boiling point as desperate coffee producers demanded to know what the government would do to save them. There had even been some brawling – civilised men driven to violence at the thought of their fortunes dwindling to nothing overnight.

He had lasted as long as he could, wanting to at least show his support but feeling he had little to offer in the way of advice. Now more than anything he wanted a drink. Turning in the direction of his club and walking a few paces, he checked himself.

No. He must resist or he would be back to where he started, and he had promised Izabela only last night that he was a reformed character.

Then he remembered her telling him over breakfast that she was going to her dressmaker’s in Ipanema for a fitting. The salon was only a ten-minute walk from here and he suddenly thought how nice it would be to surprise her. Perhaps they could take a walk along the promenade, sit in one of the beachside cafés and simply watch the world go by. That was the kind of thing husbands and wives who enjoyed each other’s company did, wasn’t it?

He turned left and headed in the direction of Ipanema.

Fifteen minutes later, Gustavo emerged from Madame Duchaine’s salon confused. He swore Izabela had said earlier that this was where she was headed after visiting her father, but Madame Duchaine had assured him that no appointment had been booked that afternoon by his wife. Shrugging, Gustavo walked along the street and hailed a cab to take him home.