Dom Casmurro

by Machado de Assis

LXXI - Escobar's Visit

At home, they had already lied telling my mother that I had come back and was changing clothes.

"The mass of eight ought to be finished ... Bentinho should be back ... Would something have happened, my dear Cosme? ... Send me a look ..." So she spoke, from minute to minute, but I went in. and with me the tranquility.

It was the day of good feelings. Escobar went to see me and know about my mother's health. He had never visited me there, nor had our relations been so close, as they came to be; but knowing the reason for my departure, three days before, took advantage of Sunday to go with me and ask if the danger was continuing or not. When I said no, he breathed.

"I was afraid," he said.

"Did the others know?"

"It seems so: some have.

Uncle Cosme and Jose Dias liked the young man; the guest told him that he had seen his father once in Rio de Janeiro. Escobar was very polished; and though he spake more than he came to speak after, yet he was not so much as the young men of our age; on that day I found it a little more expansive than usual. Uncle Cosimo wanted to have dinner with us. Escobar thought for a moment, and ended by saying that the pae's correspondent was waiting for him. I, remembering the words of Gurgel, repeated them:

"Let the black man say that you have dinner here, and then you will."

- Such trouble!

"No trouble at all," said Uncle Cosme.

Escobar accepted and dined. I noticed that the rapid movements he had and mastered in class also dominated them now, in the room as well as at the table. The time he spent with me was one of frank friendship. I showed him the few books he had. He liked the portrait of my father very much; after a few moments of contemplation, turned and said to me:

"You see, it was a pure heart!"

Escobar's eyes, clear as I said, were sweet; so José Dias defined them, after he left, and I keep this word, despite the forty years he has brought upon himself. In this there was no exaggeration of the aggregate. Her shaven face was smooth and smooth. The forehead was a little low, the scrape of hair almost above the left eyebrow; but always had the necessary height not to displease the other features, nor to diminish their grace. Really, it was interesting on the face, the thin, bumpy mouth, the curved, slender nose. The priest had the right to shake off his right shoulder from time to time, and he had lost it, since one of us noticed him one day in the seminary; The first example I saw was that a man was able to correct himself very well about minor defects.

I never ceased to feel such and such a fading that my friends would please all. At home, they loved Escobar; the same cousin Justina thought she was a very appreciable young man, despite ... Although what? asked Jose Dias, seeing that she did not finish the phrase. There was no answer, no phone call; cousin Justina probably did not see any clear or important defect in our host; though it was a sort of resave for some who would discover it one day; or it was a work of old use, which led her to restrain, where she found no restriction.

Escobar said goodbye right after dinner; I went to the door, where we waited for an omnibus. He told me that the correspondent's storeroom was on Pescadores Street, and it was open until nine o'clock: he did not want to be late. We parted with great affection: he, from within the bus, still said goodbye with his hand. I kept myself at the door, to see if in the distance I would still look back, but did not look.

"What friend is that size?" asked someone from a window by the foot.

Needless to say, it was Capitú. These are things that are divined in life, as in books, whether they are novels or true stories. It was Capitú, who had been looking at us for some time, inside the Venetian, and now he had opened the window entirely, and it had appeared. He saw our farewells so torn and affectionate, and wondered who it was I deserved so much.

"It's Escobar," I said, going to put myself under the window, looking up.