Capitu (2008–…): Season 1, Episode 5 - Episode #1.5 - full transcript
THE ARMS
At the end of two years
of marriage
apart from the bother
of not having a child,
everything was going well.
I'd lost my father-in-law...
and Uncle Cosme wouldn't last long.
But my mother's health
was good, and ours, excellent.
Like a bird freed from
its cage.
The arms deserve a section.
The arms were fine ones,
and the first evening they were
displayed naked at a ball,
I doubt they had a rival
in town.
Not even yours, dear lady
reader, being so young...
if indeed born.
After they married,
Sancha and Capitu
continued their friendship
from school...
as did Escobar and I ours
from the seminary.
They lived in Andara?,
where we'd sometimes
dine on Sundays.
Seminarist!
I didn't attend the third ball.
Seminarist!
Sancha won't go either, or
she'll go in long sleeves...
anything else would seem
indecent.
Quite so. But don't tell them
the reason they'll call us seminarists.
But Sancha's arms
are not so nice.
She gave in too quickly and
didn't go to the ball.
She went to others,
but covered them with lace...
which neither covered nor
revealed them completely.
My only regret is not
having had a son.
Stop it, man.
God will give you one
one when he wishes...
and if he gives you none it is
because he wants them for Himself.
Best let them remain
in heaven.
A son, a child is the natural
complement to life.
It will come, if necessary.
Escobar and his wife lived happily,
and had a little girl.
I told you before,
Capitu was economical,
or I tell you now.
And not only with money,
with the things she used...
the things...
They're pieces of my childhood.
TEN POUNDS STERLING
-You're not listening to me, Capitu.
-Me?
Of course I'm listening.
-What was I saying?
-You were talking about Sirius.
Nonsense, Capitu.
I was talking about Sirius
twenty minutes ago.
You were talking about Mars.
Indeed, it was Mars,
but it was clear,
she'd only grasped
the sound of the word,
not the meaning.
Capitu, realizing, became
the most adorable of creatures.
She confessed she was preoccupied
with a currency exchange...
something about pounds sterling.
-So what pounds are these?
-Wait.
It was to be a surprise.
All this?
It's not much, just what
that miser of a wife of yours...
could save up in a few months.
- Who was the agent?
- Your friend Escobar.
- How come he never mentioned it?
- It was today.
-He's been here?
-Just before you arrived.
I didn't say anything so
you wouldn't be suspicious.
I felt like spending twice the amount
on some gift to celebrate.
They're yours.
But Capitu stopped me.
-They're ours.
-You keep them.
When I told this to Sancha,
she was alarmed:
How is Capitu able to save up,
everything is so expensive now?
I know not, dear. I know
she acquired ten pounds.
-Maybe she'll learn too.
-I doubt it.
Sancha doesn't spend much,
but neither can she save.
What I give her suffices,
but that is all.
Capitu is an angel!
If it wasn't for
astronomy,
I wouldn't have discovered
Capitu's ten pounds so quickly.
Don't think it was a professor's
vanity that made me suffer with...
Capitu's lack of attention
and be jealous of the sea.
No, my friend.
I was jealous of what might be
going on inside my wife's head,
not around it or above it.
We know that someone's
distractions may be guilty...
half guilty, a third,
a fifth, a tenth guilty...
for as far as guilt is concerned
the gradations...
are infinite.
My jealousy was intense,
but short-lived.
In fact my friendship with
Capitu grew, if that's possible.
She was even sweeter, the air
gentler, the nights brighter...
and God even more Godly.
My affection for Escobar
also grew in my heart.
Our visits became closer...
and our conversations
more intimate.
Well, not even all this was able
to quench my thirst for a son...
a sad son even,
yellow and thin
but a son,
a son of my very own.
Well!
A SON
Where do you come from?
Why I am so completely
within you?
What foolishness!
The moments of greatest delight
and mystery were when my son...
was breastfeeding, when I saw him
sucking his mother's milk...
and the whole union of nature
with nutrition and life of a being...
which was nothing,
but which our destiny
claimed would become.
I felt I know not how,
and cannot say.
Doctor?
Lawyer?
Tradesman?
I accept the hypothesis of him
becoming a poet or perhaps...
a politician,
who knows, he may turn out
to be a great orator?
And on we went...
Escobar doing his calculations,
and me with my dreams.
I wanted Escobar to be
the godfather, but...
Go on, ask for your godfather's
blessing, old man!
I won't give up! And quickly,
he must be baptized...
before my illness takes me
away forever.
I even tried delaying the ceremony
to see if Uncle Cosme might...
succumb to his illness...
but it was just an annoyance,
not deadly.
There was nothing for it
but to take the boy to the font...
where he received the name
Ezequiel.
Ezequiel, ego te baptizo
in nomine patris...
Amen!
AN ONLY SON
Ezequiel, when the previous chapter
began hadn't yet been conceived.
When it finished he was
a Christian and a Catholic.
And this chapter is destined
to bringing my Ezequiel...
to the age of five.
A handsome lad with
his bright...
already restless eyes...
Look, papa, look!
I see, son.
See the captain!
See his horse!
See the soldiers!
Look at that one with
the sword!
Now, if you consider
he was an only child...
there were no others,
you can imagine how much
we cared for him.
This I needn't mention, but
there are such obtuse readers...
who understand nothing if one
doesn't recount everything
and all the rest...
And so, to all the rest.
I don't remember.
You don't remember that black man
who sold candy in the afternoon?
I remember the black man selling
candy, but not his tune.
- Not even the words?
- Not even the words.
The reader, who does still
remember the words...
provided she was paying attention
will be amazed at such forgetfulness.
I can't remember everything.
In São Paulo, as a student,
I asked a music professor...
to transcribe the tune.
He did so with pleasure...
all I had to do was sing
it from memory.
I kept the piece of paper.
Weep, little girl, weep
For you haven't a cent.
Oh papa, give me
a cent too.
THE IMITATIONS OF EZEQUIEL
It's not from us,
who like peace and quiet.
But when father was young
he was like that, mother said so.
But he won't be a sissy.
I only know of
one tiny fault:
Ezequiel likes imitating
other people.
Imitating, how?
Imitating their gestures
their habits, attitudes...
He imitates cousin Justina,
he imitates Jos? Dias...
I've noticed he even imitates
Escobar's walk and his eyes.
I think he's just imitating
for the fun of it...
with so many grown-ups around,
copying other people's mannerisms.
-There's still time to correct him.
-Of course.
Weren't you also like that when
you were angry with someone?
A boy's revenge.
But I don't like imitations
in the house.
And back in those days,
did you like me?
I regretted that no artist was
present to transfer...
the gesture to a piece of marble.
Only the artist would shine,
for sure.
When a person or a group
turn out well...
no one wants to know about
the model, but the work...
it's the work which remains.
No matter, we'd know
it was us.
THIRD PARTY EMBARGOES
Well?
It's only natural that you ask whether
having been so jealous before,
I didn't continue to be so
in spite of the son and the years.
Yes, sir, I did.
Capitu was everything and
more besides.
I only recall going to the theater
without Capitu twice.
And the first night of an opera
which she didn't attend
because she was ill...
but wanted me to go to
anyway.
It was too late to give the box
to Escobar.
So I did go, but returned
after Act I.
Escobar?
I came to speak to you.
I went to the theater, but returned,
worried about Capitu who is ill.
What ails her?
She was complaining about
her head and her stomach.
Then I should go.
I came because of
that business of the embargoes.
Something important has happened,
and since I dined in town...
I didn't want to go home
without telling you.
But we can talk later.
No,
we'll talk now.
Go up.
She might be better.
If she's worse, come down.
Capitu was better.
My love!
In fact, she was well.
She confessed she'd had just
a slight headache...
but had exaggerated the ailment
so that I'd go and enjoy myself.
She didn't seem very happy,
and I suspected she was lying...
to put my mind at rest, but
she swore it was the utter truth.
The sister-in-law is as sick
as you or I.
DOUBT UPON DOUBT
There is one thing
I lose sleep about.
I'm starting to think my mother is
rather cold and aloof with you.
I've already told you, it's just
natural for a mother-in-law.
Mummy's jealous of you.
Once it passes and her
longing increases,
she'll go back to what
she was before...
missing her grandson.
But I've noticed that
she is also cold to Ezequiel.
When he goes with me,
mother isn't as playful with him.
Perhaps she's not been very well?
Shall we dine with her tomorrow?
Let's...no.
Mother hardly joined
in the conversation.
But it was no different
than usual.
Jos? Dias spoke of marriage
and homeopathy...
Uncle Cosme of his troubles...
cousin Justina of the
neighborhood,
or of Jos? Dias whenever
he left the room.
Nothing is wrong, nor could
there be with all the endless...
praise I hear for "the lovely
and virtuous Capitu."
CLOSE FRIENDS
So Escobar left Andara? and bought
a larger, better house...
in Flamengo.
A house I saw a few days ago
when I had an impulse...
to see if my old feelings
were dead...
or just slumbering.
The part of the beach between Gl?ria
and Flamengo was like a path to us.
Now our hearts couldn't
have been closer.
Our wives were forever
visiting each other.
What happened between me
and Capitu could happen to them.
Anything could happen.
What was certain was they were
very fond of each other,
and could end up marrying.
But they didn't.
SANCHA'S HAND
Everything comes to an end, dear
reader, that's a great truth...
to which one might add that not
everything which is lasting
lasts very long.
Our castle was solid enough,
but one Sunday...
I'd like you to dine here
tomorrow.
I need to talk to you about
a family project...
for the four of us.
For four?
A square dance.
No.
You'll never guess what it is,
and I won't say.
Come tomorrow.
What were you talking about?
Some project or other.
Can you keep a secret? A trip to
Europe two years from now.
- We're all going?
- Yes.
The sea tomorrow will
be a challenge.
-Will you go in the water tomorrow?
-I've entered rougher seas...
much rougher.
You can't imagine what a good
sea is like when it's rough.
You need to be
a strong swimmer,
like me and have these
lungs and these arms.
Feel.
I touched his arms, as
if they were Sancha's.
I hardly dare confess this,
but I cannot suppress it that
would be to amputate the truth:
I didn't touch them with this in mind,
but I felt something very different:
I thought them broader and stronger
than mine and I was envious.
And they knew how to swim.
Modesty required me to see in that
gesture of Sancha's the approval...
of her husband's project and
an acknowledgement.
But the particular surge which
flowed through my whole body...
diverted me from the conclusion
I record in writing.
It was an instant of dizziness
and sin.
It was quickly over
by the clock.
When I put my watch to my ear
only minutes of virtue...
and reason were at work.
An utterly delightful lady.
I'm a disloyal friend!
Disloyal!
Who could say there was any other
intention in that farewell gesture
or previous ones?
Everything could be linked
to the interest in our trip.
Really, a fine night!
As all nights should be
at that house.
Sancha and Capitu were so close
it would be an additional pleasure...
to go together.
If there was some sexual
intention...
who could prove that it wasn't
more than a fleeting sensation?
No, not outside, the sea
is angry.
Was it a whim, or what? At the end
of 20 minutes it was nothing.
Listen!
Disloyal!
Disloyal! Disloyal!
Moments belonging to the Devil
alternated with minutes of God's...
and the clock marked...
my alternating
damnation and salvation.
THE CATASTROPHE
Come quickly!
Come quickly!
Sir is swimming, sir is dying!
Sir is swimming, sir is dying!
One of the slaves from Sancha's
house was calling me.
I left a note for Capitu
and hurried to Flamengo.
On the way I began to guess the truth.
Escobar went for a swim and risked
going out a little further than usual,
in spite of the rough sea.
He had been caught up...
and died.
THE FUNERAL
Come on, it's time.
THE EULOGY
You'll have attended more
than one funeral.
But what you don't know, dear reader,
is the crisis which overwhelmed me...
when I saw all eyes on me,
and ears pricked.
No!
Speak.
My voice seemed to enter
rather than leave me.
All that I was forced to say
I said badly.
At the same time, fearing
they might guess the truth...
I tried hard to conceal it.
I think few listened, but...
Your eloquence rose
to the sad occasion!
I had just praised the virtues
of the man who had...
in death, been gazed upon
by those eyes.
PONDERING
Don't do that!
It's no use.
Get the ladies and take them
home. I have to pay a visit.
I left him talking to himself
and started pondering.
What I pondered was so
dark and confused...
that it prevented my mind...
from pondering properly.
I'd compared Sancha's gesture
the night before...
to that day's despair.
They were irreconcilable.
The widow was such a tender,
loving person.
Not Capitu's case at all.
I tried to recall her eyes,
the position I saw her in...
and concluded, just to myself,
that it was the old passion...
which still confused me,
leading me astray as usual.
When I came to this conclusion,
I also came to the front door...
but I turned around and
walked back up Catete Street.
Was it the doubts
afflicting me
or the necessity to afflict
Capitu with my delay?
It was 8 o'clock when I returned.
The next day...
the papers arrived.
On Tuesday the will was opened.
Escobar left me nothing.
After a short time, Sancha
went
to relatives of hers
in Paran?.
Dona Sancha, please do not
read this book.
Or, if you have read this
far, put aside the rest.
Just close it now.
Or better still, burn it...
so you aren't tempted...
to open it again.
But should you, in spite of this
warning wish to continue to the end,
it is your own fault...
I shall not answer for
any distress on your part.
ONE DAY...
You've been so quiet and upset.
Why don't we go to Europe?
My lawyer's position
provided me well.
Business is bad.
- Son of Man!
- What do you mean, son of man?
-Just an expression from the Bible.
-Well I don't like such things.
Ezequiel was growing up.
You're right...
Jos? Dias walks like this.
They're Escobar's eyes.
Not just his eyes, his features,
his whole person...
continued to develop with time.
So Escobar gradually
returned from the grave...
to take his seat at table beside me,
receiving me on the stairs kissing
me in the study in the morning...
or at night asking for
the usual blessing.
What went on between us those somber
days cannot be recorded here,
being too small and repetitive and
now it's so late, one couldn't do so
without error or weariness.
I tell this part of my life as a
seaman might tell of a shipwreck.
Everything smelled of the sea, the
tides which brought death to my friend
and wife's lover.
Escobar!
Between us, all that was
missing was that final word.
But we saw it in
each other's eyes.
And whenever Ezequiel
was around,
our separation grew.
Capitu suggested we send
him to boarding school.
Father, will you come
and see me?
Yes.
- You won't!
- Yes I will.
- You promise?
- I promise.
You didn't promise!
I promise, I promise!
AN IDEA
One day, a Friday,
I couldn't go on.
An idea which was lurking inside
me opened...
its wings and started
beating them,
as ideas often do when
they want to get out.
But probably the idea beat
its wings for the simple reason...
that it felt itself
coming to life.
Life is so lovely that
even the idea
of death needs first
to pass through it,
before being fulfilled.
You'll understand in
the next chapter.
ON SATURDAY
I bought a substance,
I shall not say which...
so as not to awaken
the desire to try it.
With death in my pocket!
I'm going to my mother's house,
in order to say good-bye...
just pay her a visit.
Bento, my son!
Either by truth or illusion,
everything seemed better.
My mother less sad, Uncle Cosme
untroubled by his heart...
nor cousin Justina by her tongue.
I spent an hour in peace.
I even gave up the project.
What was necessary to live?
Never again leave
that house...
OTHELLO
I dined out and that night
went to the cinema.
Othello! I liked the coincidence.
I saw the Moor's wild rages
because of
a simple handkerchief!
A handkerchief was enough
to cause the Moor's jealousy...
and create the most sublime
tragedy in this world.
The handkerchiefs have been lost.
Nowadays sheets are necessary.
The last act showed that it wasn't
I who should die, but Capitu.
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!
I heard Desdemona's
pleas...
her loving, pure words,
and the Moor's rage.
And Desdemona was innocent!
What would the audience do
if she were guilty, like Capitu?
What death would the Moor
give her?
The last letter, written to Capitu.
I felt the necessity to tell
her something...
to make her remorseful of my death.
I didn't recall our past.
I only spoke of Escobar...
and the need to die.
THE CUP OF COFFEE
The household was already awake.
It was time to do away with myself.
Wouldn't it be better to wait until
Capitu went out with her son to mass?
I'll drink it then,
much better.
Father!
Father!
Father!
SECOND IMPULSE
Have you had breakfast,
Ezequiel?
Yes, father,
I'm going to mass with mother.
Have some more coffee...
just half a cup.
I'll send for more.
Go on, drink!
Father!
I'm not your father!
Father! Father!
I'm not your father!
-Father! Father!
-No!
CAPITU ENTERS
Son, go outside.
- Explain yourself.
- There is nothing to explain.
There is everything.
I don't understand your tears
nor Ezequiel's.
What went on between you?
- Didn't you hear what I said?
- I heard crying, mumbling.
-I'm not Ezequiel's father.
-What?
-He's not my son!
-Whatever gave you that idea?
Tell me, tell me everything.
After what I've heard,
I might as well hear the rest.
Go on, Bento, speak!
Throw me out,
but tell me everything first!
Some things should not be said.
Should not be half said,
but since you've said half,
say the rest!
Don't push me!
No, Bento, either say the rest,
so that I may defend myself...
if I am able, or...
I hereby request
our separation. I can't go on!
Our separation has long been decided.
Better we do it through half
words or in silence...
each enduring our pain.
But since you insist here is
what I can tell you, everything.
Escobar!
Not even the dead escape
your jealousy!
I know the reason for all this.
The chance similarity.
God's will can explain all.
You laugh?
You laugh?!
It's natural.
In spite of the seminary you
don't believe in God, I do.
Enough!
It's better we say
no more.
Mother! Mother!
THE PHOTOGRAPH
It's time for mass.
There is nothing more
to be said.
I rejected death and waited
for Capitu to return.
But this took longer
than usual.
I even feared she might have
gone to my mother's house,
but no.
RETURN FROM CHURCH
I entrusted God with
all my bitterness.
I heard from within that
our separation is unavoidable...
and I'm at your service.
Was there somehow a new man
inside me?
One now emerging...
having been uncovered by
new and stronger impressions?
In which case I'd simply
been covered up?
I'll think about it.
We'll do whatever I decide.
For the rest of the day I recalled
vague, remote episodes.
All the malice my blindness
had concealed...
and where my old jealousy
had failed me.
Now I remembered everything...
which now seemed
nothing.
THE SOLUTION
Here is what we did.
We grabbed ourselves and
went to Europe.
We visited Switzerland.
A professor from Rio Grande
who went with us,
accompanied Capitu
teaching Ezequiel German,
the rest he'd learn
in local schools.
With my life in order,
I returned to Brazil.
After some months, Capitu
started writing me letters...
to which I replied with
brevity and dryly.
Hers were submissive, without
hatred, sometimes affectionate...
and in the end heartfelt.
She asked me to go and see her.
I traveled a year later,
but didn't go to see her...
and repeated the trip
with the same result.
On my return, those who
knew her wanted news...
which I gave them as if
I had just been with her.
You'll be happy, Bento.
Of course the journeys
were made...
to simulate this
and trick the opinion of others.
Jos? Dias didn't accompany
me to Europe...
though not because
it wasn't his wish.
He stayed to keep Uncle Cosme
company, now almost an invalid...
and my mother,
who was aging fast.
Jos? Dias was also old, although
still fit.
He'd came aboard to say good-bye,
and the words he spoke...
the gestures of his handkerchief,
him drying his own eyes...
also moved me.
The last time, Jos? Dias
didn't come aboard.
Come.
I can't.
Are you afraid?
No, I can't.
Now, adieu, Bento...
I don't know if you'll see me again.
I think I'm going to another Europe...
the eternal one...
little Bento!
Oh Bento!
Bento!
He didn't go straight away.
My mother departed first.
Look for a grave at the
São João Batista cemetery...
without a name and with
the single inscription:
A Saint!
A SAINT
So she was
a saint of a lady?
Protonotary Cabral, if he were
alive, would confirm what I say.
You knew Protonotary Cabral?
Yes, I did.
He was a model priest.
A good canonist,
a good Latinist, pious.
At home I always heard he was
a great backgammon partner.
He threw great dice!
Masterful!
So... you think...?
Since there's no other sense,
nor could there be,
it's admissible.
When we left, Jos? Dias
spoke ill of the priest.
He didn't know her.
If he did he'd have engraved:
"Saintliest!"
This wasn't Jos? Dias's
last superlative.
THE LAST SUPERLATIVE
Jos? Dias corresponded with Capitu...
and asked her to send
a portrait of Ezequiel.
But Capitu kept putting it off,
and he stopped asking...
for anything except that
she talk to Ezequiel...
about the old friend of
his father and grandfather...
"destined by heaven
to love the same blood".
But death arrived
before Ezequiel.
The illness was short.
I sent for a
homeopathic doctor.
No, Bento, an allopath will do.
All schools have
death.
And anyway, time has
taken all...
youthful thoughts.
I'll convert to my parent's faith.
Allopathy
is the Catholicism
of medicine.
No, the air might be harmful.
What harm?
Air is life, Bento.
The loveliest!
THE RETURN
This person's here?
Yes sir, he's been
waiting.
I didn't go immediately.
I left him waiting some
10 or 15 minutes.
Only now it occurs to me that
I should have rushed eagerly...
to embrace him
talk of his mother.
The mother, I don't think I've
mentioned was dead and buried.
She lies in old Switzerland.
Father!
Escobar!
It was none other than my old
companion from the seminary.
A little shorter, less rounded,
the same face as my friend.
He was truly, the exact
same Escobar.
He was my wife's lover.
He was his father's son.
Father, you're just like
in your last pictures.
The voice was the same!
I began interrogating him.
I was anxious to see you.
Mother spoke so much of you.
...To speak less and therefore
control my emotions.
She praised you so highly as
the purest man in the world...
the one most worthy
of being adored.
But my seminary colleague
continued resurging...
from the grave, more and more.
She was lovely in death.
Let's have lunch.
Escobar also ate like that,
his face buried in the plate.
He told me about life in Europe,
his studies...
particularly archeology,
which he was passionate about.
He spoke lovingly about
antiquity,
told me about Egypt and
its thousands of centuries,
without getting lost in numbers.
He had his father's head
for arithmetic.
There was no choice
but to have him stay;
I became a true father.
Ezequiel spent
a few months with me.
After 6 months, Ezequiel told me
about a trip to Greece...
Egypt and Palestine,
a scientific trip.
I promised some
friends of mine.
Of what sex?
Women are creatures subjected
to fashion and the moon...
they'll never understand
a ruin 30 centuries old.
One of the consequences of
his father's furtive love affairs...
was my paying for
his son's archeology.
I'd pay for him to become a leper.
Did you say something, father?
There were no lepers, but there are
diseases in every land...
be they old or new.
Eleven months later, Ezequiel
died of typhoid fever.
He was buried just
outside Jerusalem,
where two friends from university
placed a tomb...
with this inscription, taken
from the prophet Ezekiel, in Greek:
Thou wast perfect in thy ways.
They sent me the drawing
of the grave,
the bill for expenses...
and the rest of the money
he'd been carrying.
I'd have paid thrice over,
not to see him again.
I wanted to check the text,
and found that it went on:
Thou wast perfect in thy ways
from the day that thou wast created.
I wonder which day
Ezequiel was created?
I received no answer.
One more mystery to go with
all the others in this world.
In spite of all this I dined well
and went to the theater.
I lived as best I could with no
shortage of lady friends to console me.
Fleeting fancies, it is true.
They came, never to return.
I stood at the door, waiting,
spying, looking at my watch...
and saw no one.
Then, if another visitor appeared
I'd show her the landscapes,
the historical or genre paintings...
and she too would tire...
and not return.
WELL, WHAT ELSE?
Now, how come none
of these fleeting fancies...
ever made me forget
my heart's first love?
Capitu.
Perhaps because none had...
Those undertow eyes,
nor sly and deceiving
gypsy ones.
Bento!
Bento Santiago.
Come on, you rascal!
Where have you been, Bento?
END
But this isn't really
the rest of the book.
The rest is knowing...
whether the Capitu
of Gl?ria beach...
was within that of
Matacavalos...
or whether one turned into the
other because of some incident?
Jesus, had he known of
my initial jealousy, would tell me...
Chapter 9, Verse 1 :
Be not jealous over the wife
of thy bosom,
and teach her not an evil lesson...
against thyself.
But I don't think so.
And you'll agree with me.
If you remember Capitu
as a little girl...
you'll have to recognize
that one...
in the other, like a fruit inside
a shell.
And anyway, whatever the solution,
one certainty remains...
it was destiny's wish that my first
girlfriend and my greatest friend...
both so loving
and so dear to me...
should end up...
together...
betraying me.
May the earth around them be light.
Now to the "History of
the Suburbs".
At the end of two years
of marriage
apart from the bother
of not having a child,
everything was going well.
I'd lost my father-in-law...
and Uncle Cosme wouldn't last long.
But my mother's health
was good, and ours, excellent.
Like a bird freed from
its cage.
The arms deserve a section.
The arms were fine ones,
and the first evening they were
displayed naked at a ball,
I doubt they had a rival
in town.
Not even yours, dear lady
reader, being so young...
if indeed born.
After they married,
Sancha and Capitu
continued their friendship
from school...
as did Escobar and I ours
from the seminary.
They lived in Andara?,
where we'd sometimes
dine on Sundays.
Seminarist!
I didn't attend the third ball.
Seminarist!
Sancha won't go either, or
she'll go in long sleeves...
anything else would seem
indecent.
Quite so. But don't tell them
the reason they'll call us seminarists.
But Sancha's arms
are not so nice.
She gave in too quickly and
didn't go to the ball.
She went to others,
but covered them with lace...
which neither covered nor
revealed them completely.
My only regret is not
having had a son.
Stop it, man.
God will give you one
one when he wishes...
and if he gives you none it is
because he wants them for Himself.
Best let them remain
in heaven.
A son, a child is the natural
complement to life.
It will come, if necessary.
Escobar and his wife lived happily,
and had a little girl.
I told you before,
Capitu was economical,
or I tell you now.
And not only with money,
with the things she used...
the things...
They're pieces of my childhood.
TEN POUNDS STERLING
-You're not listening to me, Capitu.
-Me?
Of course I'm listening.
-What was I saying?
-You were talking about Sirius.
Nonsense, Capitu.
I was talking about Sirius
twenty minutes ago.
You were talking about Mars.
Indeed, it was Mars,
but it was clear,
she'd only grasped
the sound of the word,
not the meaning.
Capitu, realizing, became
the most adorable of creatures.
She confessed she was preoccupied
with a currency exchange...
something about pounds sterling.
-So what pounds are these?
-Wait.
It was to be a surprise.
All this?
It's not much, just what
that miser of a wife of yours...
could save up in a few months.
- Who was the agent?
- Your friend Escobar.
- How come he never mentioned it?
- It was today.
-He's been here?
-Just before you arrived.
I didn't say anything so
you wouldn't be suspicious.
I felt like spending twice the amount
on some gift to celebrate.
They're yours.
But Capitu stopped me.
-They're ours.
-You keep them.
When I told this to Sancha,
she was alarmed:
How is Capitu able to save up,
everything is so expensive now?
I know not, dear. I know
she acquired ten pounds.
-Maybe she'll learn too.
-I doubt it.
Sancha doesn't spend much,
but neither can she save.
What I give her suffices,
but that is all.
Capitu is an angel!
If it wasn't for
astronomy,
I wouldn't have discovered
Capitu's ten pounds so quickly.
Don't think it was a professor's
vanity that made me suffer with...
Capitu's lack of attention
and be jealous of the sea.
No, my friend.
I was jealous of what might be
going on inside my wife's head,
not around it or above it.
We know that someone's
distractions may be guilty...
half guilty, a third,
a fifth, a tenth guilty...
for as far as guilt is concerned
the gradations...
are infinite.
My jealousy was intense,
but short-lived.
In fact my friendship with
Capitu grew, if that's possible.
She was even sweeter, the air
gentler, the nights brighter...
and God even more Godly.
My affection for Escobar
also grew in my heart.
Our visits became closer...
and our conversations
more intimate.
Well, not even all this was able
to quench my thirst for a son...
a sad son even,
yellow and thin
but a son,
a son of my very own.
Well!
A SON
Where do you come from?
Why I am so completely
within you?
What foolishness!
The moments of greatest delight
and mystery were when my son...
was breastfeeding, when I saw him
sucking his mother's milk...
and the whole union of nature
with nutrition and life of a being...
which was nothing,
but which our destiny
claimed would become.
I felt I know not how,
and cannot say.
Doctor?
Lawyer?
Tradesman?
I accept the hypothesis of him
becoming a poet or perhaps...
a politician,
who knows, he may turn out
to be a great orator?
And on we went...
Escobar doing his calculations,
and me with my dreams.
I wanted Escobar to be
the godfather, but...
Go on, ask for your godfather's
blessing, old man!
I won't give up! And quickly,
he must be baptized...
before my illness takes me
away forever.
I even tried delaying the ceremony
to see if Uncle Cosme might...
succumb to his illness...
but it was just an annoyance,
not deadly.
There was nothing for it
but to take the boy to the font...
where he received the name
Ezequiel.
Ezequiel, ego te baptizo
in nomine patris...
Amen!
AN ONLY SON
Ezequiel, when the previous chapter
began hadn't yet been conceived.
When it finished he was
a Christian and a Catholic.
And this chapter is destined
to bringing my Ezequiel...
to the age of five.
A handsome lad with
his bright...
already restless eyes...
Look, papa, look!
I see, son.
See the captain!
See his horse!
See the soldiers!
Look at that one with
the sword!
Now, if you consider
he was an only child...
there were no others,
you can imagine how much
we cared for him.
This I needn't mention, but
there are such obtuse readers...
who understand nothing if one
doesn't recount everything
and all the rest...
And so, to all the rest.
I don't remember.
You don't remember that black man
who sold candy in the afternoon?
I remember the black man selling
candy, but not his tune.
- Not even the words?
- Not even the words.
The reader, who does still
remember the words...
provided she was paying attention
will be amazed at such forgetfulness.
I can't remember everything.
In São Paulo, as a student,
I asked a music professor...
to transcribe the tune.
He did so with pleasure...
all I had to do was sing
it from memory.
I kept the piece of paper.
Weep, little girl, weep
For you haven't a cent.
Oh papa, give me
a cent too.
THE IMITATIONS OF EZEQUIEL
It's not from us,
who like peace and quiet.
But when father was young
he was like that, mother said so.
But he won't be a sissy.
I only know of
one tiny fault:
Ezequiel likes imitating
other people.
Imitating, how?
Imitating their gestures
their habits, attitudes...
He imitates cousin Justina,
he imitates Jos? Dias...
I've noticed he even imitates
Escobar's walk and his eyes.
I think he's just imitating
for the fun of it...
with so many grown-ups around,
copying other people's mannerisms.
-There's still time to correct him.
-Of course.
Weren't you also like that when
you were angry with someone?
A boy's revenge.
But I don't like imitations
in the house.
And back in those days,
did you like me?
I regretted that no artist was
present to transfer...
the gesture to a piece of marble.
Only the artist would shine,
for sure.
When a person or a group
turn out well...
no one wants to know about
the model, but the work...
it's the work which remains.
No matter, we'd know
it was us.
THIRD PARTY EMBARGOES
Well?
It's only natural that you ask whether
having been so jealous before,
I didn't continue to be so
in spite of the son and the years.
Yes, sir, I did.
Capitu was everything and
more besides.
I only recall going to the theater
without Capitu twice.
And the first night of an opera
which she didn't attend
because she was ill...
but wanted me to go to
anyway.
It was too late to give the box
to Escobar.
So I did go, but returned
after Act I.
Escobar?
I came to speak to you.
I went to the theater, but returned,
worried about Capitu who is ill.
What ails her?
She was complaining about
her head and her stomach.
Then I should go.
I came because of
that business of the embargoes.
Something important has happened,
and since I dined in town...
I didn't want to go home
without telling you.
But we can talk later.
No,
we'll talk now.
Go up.
She might be better.
If she's worse, come down.
Capitu was better.
My love!
In fact, she was well.
She confessed she'd had just
a slight headache...
but had exaggerated the ailment
so that I'd go and enjoy myself.
She didn't seem very happy,
and I suspected she was lying...
to put my mind at rest, but
she swore it was the utter truth.
The sister-in-law is as sick
as you or I.
DOUBT UPON DOUBT
There is one thing
I lose sleep about.
I'm starting to think my mother is
rather cold and aloof with you.
I've already told you, it's just
natural for a mother-in-law.
Mummy's jealous of you.
Once it passes and her
longing increases,
she'll go back to what
she was before...
missing her grandson.
But I've noticed that
she is also cold to Ezequiel.
When he goes with me,
mother isn't as playful with him.
Perhaps she's not been very well?
Shall we dine with her tomorrow?
Let's...no.
Mother hardly joined
in the conversation.
But it was no different
than usual.
Jos? Dias spoke of marriage
and homeopathy...
Uncle Cosme of his troubles...
cousin Justina of the
neighborhood,
or of Jos? Dias whenever
he left the room.
Nothing is wrong, nor could
there be with all the endless...
praise I hear for "the lovely
and virtuous Capitu."
CLOSE FRIENDS
So Escobar left Andara? and bought
a larger, better house...
in Flamengo.
A house I saw a few days ago
when I had an impulse...
to see if my old feelings
were dead...
or just slumbering.
The part of the beach between Gl?ria
and Flamengo was like a path to us.
Now our hearts couldn't
have been closer.
Our wives were forever
visiting each other.
What happened between me
and Capitu could happen to them.
Anything could happen.
What was certain was they were
very fond of each other,
and could end up marrying.
But they didn't.
SANCHA'S HAND
Everything comes to an end, dear
reader, that's a great truth...
to which one might add that not
everything which is lasting
lasts very long.
Our castle was solid enough,
but one Sunday...
I'd like you to dine here
tomorrow.
I need to talk to you about
a family project...
for the four of us.
For four?
A square dance.
No.
You'll never guess what it is,
and I won't say.
Come tomorrow.
What were you talking about?
Some project or other.
Can you keep a secret? A trip to
Europe two years from now.
- We're all going?
- Yes.
The sea tomorrow will
be a challenge.
-Will you go in the water tomorrow?
-I've entered rougher seas...
much rougher.
You can't imagine what a good
sea is like when it's rough.
You need to be
a strong swimmer,
like me and have these
lungs and these arms.
Feel.
I touched his arms, as
if they were Sancha's.
I hardly dare confess this,
but I cannot suppress it that
would be to amputate the truth:
I didn't touch them with this in mind,
but I felt something very different:
I thought them broader and stronger
than mine and I was envious.
And they knew how to swim.
Modesty required me to see in that
gesture of Sancha's the approval...
of her husband's project and
an acknowledgement.
But the particular surge which
flowed through my whole body...
diverted me from the conclusion
I record in writing.
It was an instant of dizziness
and sin.
It was quickly over
by the clock.
When I put my watch to my ear
only minutes of virtue...
and reason were at work.
An utterly delightful lady.
I'm a disloyal friend!
Disloyal!
Who could say there was any other
intention in that farewell gesture
or previous ones?
Everything could be linked
to the interest in our trip.
Really, a fine night!
As all nights should be
at that house.
Sancha and Capitu were so close
it would be an additional pleasure...
to go together.
If there was some sexual
intention...
who could prove that it wasn't
more than a fleeting sensation?
No, not outside, the sea
is angry.
Was it a whim, or what? At the end
of 20 minutes it was nothing.
Listen!
Disloyal!
Disloyal! Disloyal!
Moments belonging to the Devil
alternated with minutes of God's...
and the clock marked...
my alternating
damnation and salvation.
THE CATASTROPHE
Come quickly!
Come quickly!
Sir is swimming, sir is dying!
Sir is swimming, sir is dying!
One of the slaves from Sancha's
house was calling me.
I left a note for Capitu
and hurried to Flamengo.
On the way I began to guess the truth.
Escobar went for a swim and risked
going out a little further than usual,
in spite of the rough sea.
He had been caught up...
and died.
THE FUNERAL
Come on, it's time.
THE EULOGY
You'll have attended more
than one funeral.
But what you don't know, dear reader,
is the crisis which overwhelmed me...
when I saw all eyes on me,
and ears pricked.
No!
Speak.
My voice seemed to enter
rather than leave me.
All that I was forced to say
I said badly.
At the same time, fearing
they might guess the truth...
I tried hard to conceal it.
I think few listened, but...
Your eloquence rose
to the sad occasion!
I had just praised the virtues
of the man who had...
in death, been gazed upon
by those eyes.
PONDERING
Don't do that!
It's no use.
Get the ladies and take them
home. I have to pay a visit.
I left him talking to himself
and started pondering.
What I pondered was so
dark and confused...
that it prevented my mind...
from pondering properly.
I'd compared Sancha's gesture
the night before...
to that day's despair.
They were irreconcilable.
The widow was such a tender,
loving person.
Not Capitu's case at all.
I tried to recall her eyes,
the position I saw her in...
and concluded, just to myself,
that it was the old passion...
which still confused me,
leading me astray as usual.
When I came to this conclusion,
I also came to the front door...
but I turned around and
walked back up Catete Street.
Was it the doubts
afflicting me
or the necessity to afflict
Capitu with my delay?
It was 8 o'clock when I returned.
The next day...
the papers arrived.
On Tuesday the will was opened.
Escobar left me nothing.
After a short time, Sancha
went
to relatives of hers
in Paran?.
Dona Sancha, please do not
read this book.
Or, if you have read this
far, put aside the rest.
Just close it now.
Or better still, burn it...
so you aren't tempted...
to open it again.
But should you, in spite of this
warning wish to continue to the end,
it is your own fault...
I shall not answer for
any distress on your part.
ONE DAY...
You've been so quiet and upset.
Why don't we go to Europe?
My lawyer's position
provided me well.
Business is bad.
- Son of Man!
- What do you mean, son of man?
-Just an expression from the Bible.
-Well I don't like such things.
Ezequiel was growing up.
You're right...
Jos? Dias walks like this.
They're Escobar's eyes.
Not just his eyes, his features,
his whole person...
continued to develop with time.
So Escobar gradually
returned from the grave...
to take his seat at table beside me,
receiving me on the stairs kissing
me in the study in the morning...
or at night asking for
the usual blessing.
What went on between us those somber
days cannot be recorded here,
being too small and repetitive and
now it's so late, one couldn't do so
without error or weariness.
I tell this part of my life as a
seaman might tell of a shipwreck.
Everything smelled of the sea, the
tides which brought death to my friend
and wife's lover.
Escobar!
Between us, all that was
missing was that final word.
But we saw it in
each other's eyes.
And whenever Ezequiel
was around,
our separation grew.
Capitu suggested we send
him to boarding school.
Father, will you come
and see me?
Yes.
- You won't!
- Yes I will.
- You promise?
- I promise.
You didn't promise!
I promise, I promise!
AN IDEA
One day, a Friday,
I couldn't go on.
An idea which was lurking inside
me opened...
its wings and started
beating them,
as ideas often do when
they want to get out.
But probably the idea beat
its wings for the simple reason...
that it felt itself
coming to life.
Life is so lovely that
even the idea
of death needs first
to pass through it,
before being fulfilled.
You'll understand in
the next chapter.
ON SATURDAY
I bought a substance,
I shall not say which...
so as not to awaken
the desire to try it.
With death in my pocket!
I'm going to my mother's house,
in order to say good-bye...
just pay her a visit.
Bento, my son!
Either by truth or illusion,
everything seemed better.
My mother less sad, Uncle Cosme
untroubled by his heart...
nor cousin Justina by her tongue.
I spent an hour in peace.
I even gave up the project.
What was necessary to live?
Never again leave
that house...
OTHELLO
I dined out and that night
went to the cinema.
Othello! I liked the coincidence.
I saw the Moor's wild rages
because of
a simple handkerchief!
A handkerchief was enough
to cause the Moor's jealousy...
and create the most sublime
tragedy in this world.
The handkerchiefs have been lost.
Nowadays sheets are necessary.
The last act showed that it wasn't
I who should die, but Capitu.
Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!
I heard Desdemona's
pleas...
her loving, pure words,
and the Moor's rage.
And Desdemona was innocent!
What would the audience do
if she were guilty, like Capitu?
What death would the Moor
give her?
The last letter, written to Capitu.
I felt the necessity to tell
her something...
to make her remorseful of my death.
I didn't recall our past.
I only spoke of Escobar...
and the need to die.
THE CUP OF COFFEE
The household was already awake.
It was time to do away with myself.
Wouldn't it be better to wait until
Capitu went out with her son to mass?
I'll drink it then,
much better.
Father!
Father!
Father!
SECOND IMPULSE
Have you had breakfast,
Ezequiel?
Yes, father,
I'm going to mass with mother.
Have some more coffee...
just half a cup.
I'll send for more.
Go on, drink!
Father!
I'm not your father!
Father! Father!
I'm not your father!
-Father! Father!
-No!
CAPITU ENTERS
Son, go outside.
- Explain yourself.
- There is nothing to explain.
There is everything.
I don't understand your tears
nor Ezequiel's.
What went on between you?
- Didn't you hear what I said?
- I heard crying, mumbling.
-I'm not Ezequiel's father.
-What?
-He's not my son!
-Whatever gave you that idea?
Tell me, tell me everything.
After what I've heard,
I might as well hear the rest.
Go on, Bento, speak!
Throw me out,
but tell me everything first!
Some things should not be said.
Should not be half said,
but since you've said half,
say the rest!
Don't push me!
No, Bento, either say the rest,
so that I may defend myself...
if I am able, or...
I hereby request
our separation. I can't go on!
Our separation has long been decided.
Better we do it through half
words or in silence...
each enduring our pain.
But since you insist here is
what I can tell you, everything.
Escobar!
Not even the dead escape
your jealousy!
I know the reason for all this.
The chance similarity.
God's will can explain all.
You laugh?
You laugh?!
It's natural.
In spite of the seminary you
don't believe in God, I do.
Enough!
It's better we say
no more.
Mother! Mother!
THE PHOTOGRAPH
It's time for mass.
There is nothing more
to be said.
I rejected death and waited
for Capitu to return.
But this took longer
than usual.
I even feared she might have
gone to my mother's house,
but no.
RETURN FROM CHURCH
I entrusted God with
all my bitterness.
I heard from within that
our separation is unavoidable...
and I'm at your service.
Was there somehow a new man
inside me?
One now emerging...
having been uncovered by
new and stronger impressions?
In which case I'd simply
been covered up?
I'll think about it.
We'll do whatever I decide.
For the rest of the day I recalled
vague, remote episodes.
All the malice my blindness
had concealed...
and where my old jealousy
had failed me.
Now I remembered everything...
which now seemed
nothing.
THE SOLUTION
Here is what we did.
We grabbed ourselves and
went to Europe.
We visited Switzerland.
A professor from Rio Grande
who went with us,
accompanied Capitu
teaching Ezequiel German,
the rest he'd learn
in local schools.
With my life in order,
I returned to Brazil.
After some months, Capitu
started writing me letters...
to which I replied with
brevity and dryly.
Hers were submissive, without
hatred, sometimes affectionate...
and in the end heartfelt.
She asked me to go and see her.
I traveled a year later,
but didn't go to see her...
and repeated the trip
with the same result.
On my return, those who
knew her wanted news...
which I gave them as if
I had just been with her.
You'll be happy, Bento.
Of course the journeys
were made...
to simulate this
and trick the opinion of others.
Jos? Dias didn't accompany
me to Europe...
though not because
it wasn't his wish.
He stayed to keep Uncle Cosme
company, now almost an invalid...
and my mother,
who was aging fast.
Jos? Dias was also old, although
still fit.
He'd came aboard to say good-bye,
and the words he spoke...
the gestures of his handkerchief,
him drying his own eyes...
also moved me.
The last time, Jos? Dias
didn't come aboard.
Come.
I can't.
Are you afraid?
No, I can't.
Now, adieu, Bento...
I don't know if you'll see me again.
I think I'm going to another Europe...
the eternal one...
little Bento!
Oh Bento!
Bento!
He didn't go straight away.
My mother departed first.
Look for a grave at the
São João Batista cemetery...
without a name and with
the single inscription:
A Saint!
A SAINT
So she was
a saint of a lady?
Protonotary Cabral, if he were
alive, would confirm what I say.
You knew Protonotary Cabral?
Yes, I did.
He was a model priest.
A good canonist,
a good Latinist, pious.
At home I always heard he was
a great backgammon partner.
He threw great dice!
Masterful!
So... you think...?
Since there's no other sense,
nor could there be,
it's admissible.
When we left, Jos? Dias
spoke ill of the priest.
He didn't know her.
If he did he'd have engraved:
"Saintliest!"
This wasn't Jos? Dias's
last superlative.
THE LAST SUPERLATIVE
Jos? Dias corresponded with Capitu...
and asked her to send
a portrait of Ezequiel.
But Capitu kept putting it off,
and he stopped asking...
for anything except that
she talk to Ezequiel...
about the old friend of
his father and grandfather...
"destined by heaven
to love the same blood".
But death arrived
before Ezequiel.
The illness was short.
I sent for a
homeopathic doctor.
No, Bento, an allopath will do.
All schools have
death.
And anyway, time has
taken all...
youthful thoughts.
I'll convert to my parent's faith.
Allopathy
is the Catholicism
of medicine.
No, the air might be harmful.
What harm?
Air is life, Bento.
The loveliest!
THE RETURN
This person's here?
Yes sir, he's been
waiting.
I didn't go immediately.
I left him waiting some
10 or 15 minutes.
Only now it occurs to me that
I should have rushed eagerly...
to embrace him
talk of his mother.
The mother, I don't think I've
mentioned was dead and buried.
She lies in old Switzerland.
Father!
Escobar!
It was none other than my old
companion from the seminary.
A little shorter, less rounded,
the same face as my friend.
He was truly, the exact
same Escobar.
He was my wife's lover.
He was his father's son.
Father, you're just like
in your last pictures.
The voice was the same!
I began interrogating him.
I was anxious to see you.
Mother spoke so much of you.
...To speak less and therefore
control my emotions.
She praised you so highly as
the purest man in the world...
the one most worthy
of being adored.
But my seminary colleague
continued resurging...
from the grave, more and more.
She was lovely in death.
Let's have lunch.
Escobar also ate like that,
his face buried in the plate.
He told me about life in Europe,
his studies...
particularly archeology,
which he was passionate about.
He spoke lovingly about
antiquity,
told me about Egypt and
its thousands of centuries,
without getting lost in numbers.
He had his father's head
for arithmetic.
There was no choice
but to have him stay;
I became a true father.
Ezequiel spent
a few months with me.
After 6 months, Ezequiel told me
about a trip to Greece...
Egypt and Palestine,
a scientific trip.
I promised some
friends of mine.
Of what sex?
Women are creatures subjected
to fashion and the moon...
they'll never understand
a ruin 30 centuries old.
One of the consequences of
his father's furtive love affairs...
was my paying for
his son's archeology.
I'd pay for him to become a leper.
Did you say something, father?
There were no lepers, but there are
diseases in every land...
be they old or new.
Eleven months later, Ezequiel
died of typhoid fever.
He was buried just
outside Jerusalem,
where two friends from university
placed a tomb...
with this inscription, taken
from the prophet Ezekiel, in Greek:
Thou wast perfect in thy ways.
They sent me the drawing
of the grave,
the bill for expenses...
and the rest of the money
he'd been carrying.
I'd have paid thrice over,
not to see him again.
I wanted to check the text,
and found that it went on:
Thou wast perfect in thy ways
from the day that thou wast created.
I wonder which day
Ezequiel was created?
I received no answer.
One more mystery to go with
all the others in this world.
In spite of all this I dined well
and went to the theater.
I lived as best I could with no
shortage of lady friends to console me.
Fleeting fancies, it is true.
They came, never to return.
I stood at the door, waiting,
spying, looking at my watch...
and saw no one.
Then, if another visitor appeared
I'd show her the landscapes,
the historical or genre paintings...
and she too would tire...
and not return.
WELL, WHAT ELSE?
Now, how come none
of these fleeting fancies...
ever made me forget
my heart's first love?
Capitu.
Perhaps because none had...
Those undertow eyes,
nor sly and deceiving
gypsy ones.
Bento!
Bento Santiago.
Come on, you rascal!
Where have you been, Bento?
END
But this isn't really
the rest of the book.
The rest is knowing...
whether the Capitu
of Gl?ria beach...
was within that of
Matacavalos...
or whether one turned into the
other because of some incident?
Jesus, had he known of
my initial jealousy, would tell me...
Chapter 9, Verse 1 :
Be not jealous over the wife
of thy bosom,
and teach her not an evil lesson...
against thyself.
But I don't think so.
And you'll agree with me.
If you remember Capitu
as a little girl...
you'll have to recognize
that one...
in the other, like a fruit inside
a shell.
And anyway, whatever the solution,
one certainty remains...
it was destiny's wish that my first
girlfriend and my greatest friend...
both so loving
and so dear to me...
should end up...
together...
betraying me.
May the earth around them be light.
Now to the "History of
the Suburbs".