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

here. It isn’t necessary and, besides, it would be in poor taste to reveal what one young lady might think about another young lady during a moment of irritation.
    “What about the races at the Jockey Club?” inquired the former provincial governor by prestigious imperial appointment.
    Mariana shook her head again. She hadn’t gone this year. Well, she had really missed it, because the races were excellent, the next to last one, especially. The horses were first class. The Epsom races, which he had seen in England, had nothing on the next to last heat of the season at Rio’s Jockey Club. And Sophia had to agree. She confessed that she had enjoyed herself immensely. The conversation then toured two concerts of the coming week before going up to Petrópolis to enjoy the hospitality of a couple of diplomats, friends of Dr. Viçoso. When the wife of an imperial minister dropped in, Sophia said something charming about how the former governor, too, ought to think about marrying, for certainly he would soon be a minister, himself. Viçoso shuddered ever so slightly with pleasure, and he smiled, shaking his head, no, no. Then, with his eyes on Mariana, he confessed that he probably never would marry …
    Mariana blushed deeply and stood up.
    “I see that you’re in a hurry,” said Sophia, and then, turning back toward Viçoso:
    “What time is it?”
    “Almost three o’clock!” he exclaimed.
    It was late. He had to go to the Chamber of Deputies. He went to speak to the two ladies with whom he had arrived, his cousins, and said goodbye to them, then returned to take his leave of our friends, but Sophia declared that she, too, was on her way out. She had waited long enough. The truth is that a visit to the Chamber of Deputies sounded intriguing.
    “Shall we drop by?” she proposed to Mariana.
    “No, no,” said Mariana. “I can’t. I’m very tired.”
    “Let’s do, just for a little while. I’m tired, too …”
    Mariana resisted a moment longer, but her arguing with Sophia—a dove arguing with a hawk—was completely pointless. There was no way around it: she went. Ouvidor Street was thronged now, with both sidewalks full of people coming and going and getting in each others’ way at the intersections. The gallant former governor strode between the two ladies, having offered to find them a place to sit in the Chamber of Deputies.
    The hubbub outside lacerated Mariana’s spirit more and more. Her resentment, the energy that had launched her audacious flight that morning, had dwindled now, or even vanished. She thought again about her house, so quiet and peaceful, with a place for everything and everything in its place. Never any jostling, nothing unexpected. Mariana’s spirit began to tap its foot with impatience. She no longer heard anything that Viçoso was saying, even though he spoke loudly and directed many of his comments to her. She no longer heard or cared to hear. She only prayed to God for the time to pass quickly. They entered the Chamber of Deputies and found a seat. The sound of the arriving ladies’ skirts attracted the attention of the few deputies who remained in the chamber, about twenty of them, listening to a speech on budgetary matters. As soon as Viçoso excused himself and left them alone, Mariana told her friend not to do it again.
    “Don’t do what again?” asked Sophia.
    “Don’t drag me all over creation on a fool’s errand. What on earth are we doing in the Chamber of Deputies? What do I care about speeches that I can’t understand?”
    Sophia smiled, fluttered her fan, and sensed the gaze of a man—not a deputy, but rather, one of the secretaries—who was examining her. Many eyes examined her during her visits to the Chamber of Deputies, but those of this secretary had a particularly warm and imploring expression. We can understand, then, that she didn’t meet his gaze at first. We can even understand that, full of curiosity, she did meet it before long. And, bathed in the