Sophia was thirty, two years older than Mariana. She was tall, strong, and very self-possessed. She received her friend with the usual fuss, and in view of the other’s silence, easily guessed that something was wrong. Goodbye to Mariana’s resolve to say nothing. At the end of twenty minutes, she had aired the entire matter. Sophia laughed and shook her by the shoulders. She told her that it wasn’t her husband’s fault.
“Oh, it’s my fault,” agreed Mariana.
“Don’t be a patsy, dear. You’ve been too soft with him. Be strong for once. Don’t pay any attention to his little fit. Give him the silent treatment, and when he tries to make up with you, tell him to lose the hat first.”
“Such a trivial thing …”
“Give him your little finger and he’ll take your whole hand, dear. Of course, he will. They all do it. Look at that ninny Beatriz. Didn’t she let her husband pack her off to their estate in the country because he noticed an Englishman riding by their house every afternoon, hoping to see her at the window? Poor Englishman! Why pick a fight over him? I’ll bet he didn’t even notice she was gone! One can live happily with one’s husband, with mutual respect, I do believe, without fighting or despotism. I get along very well with my Ricardo, very harmoniously. He does whatever I ask immediately, even if he doesn’t want to. One frown from me, and he obeys immediately. He wouldn’t give me trouble over a mere hat, that’s certain, no way in the world. Don’t even think about it, I’d say, and he’d get a new one, like it or not.”
Mariana listened enviously to her friend’s fine description of conjugal bliss. With the trumpets of Eve’s rebellion against Adam sounding in the background, Sophia’s example gave her an itch for independence, a wish to exercise her will. To complete the situation, although Sophia was self-possessed, one could say, others aspired to possess her, as well. She had eyes especially for all English aspirants, whether on horseback or afoot. She was an honest woman, but a flirt; it’s a rude term, but there’s no time to invent a more delicate one. Sophia flirted left and right. It was her nature, and she had done so out of habit since girlhood. What she gave out to all the poor fellows who knocked at her door was the small change of love: a nickel here, a nickel there, never a five-milréis bill, much less larger denominations. On the day in question, Sophia’s charitable urges led her to propose a stroll downtown to visit a few shops and, who knows, look at a few hats. Mariana accepted the proposal. A little demon inside her was huffing and puffing at the fires of vengeance. In addition, her friend, who held a certain fascination for Mariana, did not give her time to think. She accepted; why not? She was sick and tired of being shut in, she wanted to live a little.
Sophia went to dress while Mariana stayed in the sitting room, restless and pleased with herself. She thought of the coming week and scheduled her activities day by day, hour by hour. She stood up, sat down, stood up, and went to the window, waiting impatiently.
“Is Sophia sewing a new dress?” she asked herself from time to time.
During one of her trips to the window she saw a young man pass on horseback. He wasn’t English, but he reminded her of Beatriz, whose husband had packed her off to the country to escape an Englishman, and Mariana felt a growing hatred of all men—except, possibly, for young men on horseback. This one was too full of himself, however. He stuck his legs out in the stirrups to show off his boots, and he rode with his hand on his waist like a fashion figurine. Still, his hat compensated for those two defects. It was a little hat, but it went well with his riding costume. It wasn’t on the head of a lawyer on his way to the office.
She heard her friend’s heels slowly descending the stairs. “Ready,” said Sophia, coming into the room. She really was pretty: tall, as we already know, with a splendid hat and a devilish black silk dress that showed off the swell of her bust. Beside her friend, the figure of Mariana disappeared somewhat. Looking at her carefully, one could see that Mariana had beautiful eyes, attractive features, and a lot of natural elegance. But glancing at the two women together, all one saw was Sophia. Sophia was conscious of her superiority, I should add, and for that very reason she chose friends like Mariana. If that is a character flaw, it’s not my job to disguise it.
“Where shall we go?” asked Mariana.
“What a question! We’re going for a stroll downtown … Let’s see. I need to get my picture taken. Then I need to go by the dentist’s office. No, we’ll go by the dentist’s office first. Do you need to see the dentist?”
“No.”
“Or to have your picture taken?”
“I’ve got lots of pictures. 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 a
dmit, 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 to one side, quickly turned it back, and finally left the window. Turning around, she found two newly arrived patients, and, escorting them, a young man who rose quickly and came to greet her effusively. It was the man who had been her first suitor.
The first suitor must have been about thirty-three by now. He’d been away from Rio for years, running his family’s plantation, touring Europe, and, most recently, governing a province in the far south by prestigious imperial appointment. He was of medium height and rather pale, with a sparse beard, and his clothes were close fitting. In his hand was a new hat, an elegant top hat, grave, gubernatorial, administrative, a hat suitable to the person and his ambitions. Mariana, meanwhile, could hardly look at him. So confused did she become, so disoriented by the presence of a man whom she’d known in very special circumstances and whom she hadn’t seen since 1877, that she failed to discern anything. She extended her hand (more precisely, her fingertips), apparently murmured some kind of response to him, and was about to go back to the window, when Sophia appeared beside her.
Sophia, too, knew the former suitor. They exchanged a few words. Mariana whispered impatiently in her friend’s ear. Wouldn’t it be better to come back another day? But her friend said that, no, it would only take half an hour, three quarters at most. For Mariana, the situation was oppressive. The presence of that man obfuscated her senses, threw her into a state of struggle and confusion. All her husband’s fault. If only he hadn’t been so pigheaded and then added insult to injury, nothing would have happened! The thought made her promise herself that she’d get retribution. She thought about her house, so pretty, so nice and peaceful, where she could be right now, safe and sound, without all these people around, without having to depend on her friend …
“Mariana,” said her friend, “Dr. Viçoso is insisting that he’s lost weight. Don’t you think he looks the same as last year? Do you remember seeing him last year?”
Dr. Viçoso was the proper name of her former suitor, who was now chatting to Sophia, though with frequent looks at Mariana. Mariana responded that, no, she didn’t remember. Viçoso took the opening to engage her in conversation. It really had been a few years since he’d seen her, and he underlined that observation with a certain sad, profound look. Then he opened his bag of conversational gambits and pulled out the opera. What did they think of the current offerings? In his opinion the opera company was excellent, except for the rather lame baritone. Sophia protested his harsh judgment of the baritone, but he insisted, adding that, in London, where he’d seen this company before, he’d gotten the same impression. The female leads, yes, indeed, both the soprano and the contralto, were first class. And he discussed their repertory, mentioned the finest passages of various operas, and praised the orchestra, most especially their rendition of Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots2 … He’d seen Mariana there at the last performance, in the fourth or fifth box on the left, wasn’t that right?
“We were there,” she murmured, accentuating the plural.
“At the Cassino … that’s where I haven’t seen you,” he continued.
“She’s becoming a recluse,” joined in Sophia, laughing.
Viçoso had much enjoyed the recent dance at the Cassino; he brought out all his impressions, and Sophia did the same. The loveliest and most elaborate dresses of the evening were discussed by each of them in detail. Next came various personalities, an ill temper or two, and a few harmless, witty remarks, though not at the expense of anyone who couldn’t afford it. Mariana listened without interest. Once or twice she even got up and went to the window, but the hats were so numerous and so curious that she sat back down. Silently, she called her friend some ugly names that I won’t write 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 legislative gaze, Sophia replied gently to her friend, recognizing her error, saying that she’d meant well. She was only trying to restore Mariana’s self-respect.
“But if you think
I’m not being nice to you,” concluded Sophia, “then stay home, by all means.”
And leaning over slightly, she added:
“Look, there’s the minister of justice.”
Mariana had no alternative but to look at the minister of justice, who was enduring the endless speech of one of his supporters. The orator droned on concerning a fine point of judicial reform that offered an opportunity to display his knowledge of ancient Portuguese legislation on the subject. The speech produced no reaction among the listeners, only a polite, resigned, discreet, and cautious silence. Mariana sat in boredom, her eyes roaming around the chamber. Sophia made frequent comments occasioned by her desire to show off her hand gestures. After fifteen minutes, one of the orator’s remarks finally provoked some diversion: a response from the floor, followed by a spirited discussion.
The diversion did not suit the placid spirit of Mariana, who found it agitating and even stood up to leave. She thought better and sat down again, resolved to stay until the end and, in the future, bear her conjugal woes without sharing them with anyone. She was not so certain, anymore, about her own reactions. Her request to her husband had been reasonable, surely, but was it really worth such a fuss? His sarcasm had been cruel, but she’d never before put her foot down so firmly, so naturally he was surprised and irritated. At any rate, it had been a big mistake to reveal everything to Sophia, who might tell their friends …
The Psychiatrist & Other Stories Page 6
