Free The Alienist and Other Stories of Nineteenth-Century Brazil by Machado de Assis

And what for , anyway? To give to What’s-his-name?”
    Sophia could tell that her friend was still smoldering, and on the way downtown she did her best to stoke the flames. Although it wouldn’t be easy, Mariana could still throw off the yoke of tyranny, and Sophia could teach her how. The best way was slowly but surely, without dramatic gestures to alert her adversary. Let him not realize his fate until he felt her boot on his neck. Three or four weeks is all it would take. Sophia was willing to help, and she told Mariana again to be strong for once. She wasn’t anybody’s slave, and so on. The trumpets sounded again in Mariana’s heart.
    They got to Ouvidor Street just past noon. People, a lot of people, stood around or strolled along, the usual crowd. Mariana found it a little overwhelming, as always. The hurly burly clashed with her placid and even temperament. She found it hard to walk, and even harder to rest her gaze amid the milling crowd and the profusion of shops. She shrank against her friend and, not realizing that they had already passed the dentist’s office, she hoped that they would arrive there soon. She wanted to go inside and get away from the tumult.
    “Ouvidor Street,” she said, shaking her head.
    “Really?” responded Sophia, turning her head toward her friend, but looking past her at a young man across the street.
    Sophia navigated these choppy waters with the skill of a practiced mariner, calmly slipping through or around the groups of oncoming pedestrians, and she made a powerful impression on them. Those who knew her smiled, and those who didn’t stopped or turned to admire her style. And, full of the spirit of charity, the good woman flashed her eyes in all directions while pretending to converse with Mariana. She skipped from topic to topic, and seemed not hear her friend’s replies, as she pointed out this or that woman of their acquaintance, this or that shop, and especially, this or that hat . Hats, both men’s and women’s hats, were everywhere in the midday sun.
    “Look at that one,” said Sophia.
    And Mariana tried to follow her gaze but often couldn’t see which hat she meant. Ouvidor Street was a dizzying kaleidoscope of hats. Where was the dentist’s office? She had to ask twice before Sophia answered that they’d already passed it. Now it was best to continue to the end of the street, turn around, and stop at the dentist’s on the way back. Finally, they arrived.
    “Uff … ,” sighed Mariana, with evident relief, when they entered the hallway.
    “What’s the problem? Good Lord, it’s as though you’d never been to town!”
    A few women were already waiting to see the dentist. Mariana could find no familiar faces among them, and to avoid looking at strangers, she went to the window. At least from there she could watch the street without getting trampled. She leaned against the windowsill. Sophia went to talk with her. On the sidewalk outside, a few men’s hats turned in their direction, first hats that were standing there conversing, then hats that were passing by … Mariana objected to their persistent looks, but then she noticed that the looks were directed principally at her friend, and her objection dissolved into a kind of envy. Meanwhile, Sophia told her the adventures of certain hats. One hat was all that their friend So-and-So could think about. Another was madly in love with a different So-and-So, and she with him, as one could observe every Wednesday and Saturday between the hours of two and three o’clock, right there on Ouvidor Street. Mariana listened in bewilderment. The hat was nice looking, she had to admit, and so was the tie, rather devil-may-care, but …
    “I can’t swear to it,” her friend went on, “but that’s what they say.”
    Mariana looked pensively at the hat in question. Now three more, equally gallant, hats joined it, and probably all four were speaking, in complimentary terms, about them. Mariana blushed, turned her head