The Collected Stories of Machado De Assis by Machado De Assis
You spent two whole pages defending Mariquinhas. I’m not accusing her, I simply deplore what she’s doing. Her fiancé may turn out to be an excellent husband, but I still don’t think he’s good enough for her. And that is what I deplore.
There is a simple explanation for this divergence of opinion. I am a single woman with my head stuffed full of fantasies, dreams, ambitions, and poetry; you are already the mistress of a house, a serene and happy wife and mother-to-be; you see things through a different prism.
Is that right?
Apparently, the opera company isn’t coming after all. The city’s very lively today, though; there are bands playing in the streets; and there’s been good news about the war. We’ll definitely be going out for a walk today. Don’t you miss Rio?
Farewell.
Regards to your husband from all of us.
Raquel
VII
TO DONA LUISA
Rio, December 20
You’re quite right. I am an ungrateful wretch. It’s been nearly a month since I last wrote, despite getting two letters from you. It would take me a while to explain the delay, and, alas, I don’t have time just now, because my cousins are staying with us for a few days.
Anyway, you confess, do you, to simply wanting to sound me out? I knew no one could possibly have said such things to you about Dr. Alberto.
Mariquinhas’s wedding is set for the 5th of January. We will all go to watch the sacrifice. Forgive me, Luisa, you know how sarcastic I can be sometimes, and . . . you will forgive me, won’t you?
And yet, shall I tell you something? I’ve changed my mind in one respect. I now think: far better the father than the son. Alberto has such a frivolous nature, so superficial and silly! The father is a serious person and very friendly, too, but friendly without ever descending into silliness. He’s very distinguished, and a lively conversationalist, clever and wise.
Oh, yes, she’s much better off with the father.
You ask me what I will do if I never find the ideal husband. I’ve told you before: I will stay single. Marriage is a very big thing, the highest of states, I agree, but it must not be a form of captivity, because captivity is anything that does not allow us to realize our innermost aspirations.
Thank you for your advice, but I have to say that you are speaking as someone who is happy, and, for you, marriage, any marriage, is a foretaste of paradise.
I don’t believe it is always so.
It is true—although we will all have our own views on the subject—that Mariquinhas might well be happy, given that her chosen husband appears to speak to her heart. I don’t deny this, but I still pity her, because (I repeat), I cannot comprehend the union of a rose and an old wreck. And I will write no more so as not to speak ill of her. Forgive me these babblings, and know that I remain your friend, now and forever.
Raquel
VIII
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 8
Mariquinhas is now married. It was an intimate little ceremony, but rather splendid too. The bride looked magnificent, happy, and proud. The same could be said of the groom, who seemed even younger than he appeared in the theater that time, so much so that I almost doubted his age. I kept expecting him to take off his mask and admit that he was his own son’s brother.
I bet you’re wondering if I felt envious, aren’t you?
Well, yes, I did.
Although I don’t know if it was envy exactly, but I must confess that I did give a little sigh when I saw our lovely Mariquinhas with her veil and her garland of orange blossom looking around at us with a truly celestial light in her eyes, glad to be bidding farewell to the futile world that is the life of a young single woman.
Yes, I did sigh.
If I had been able to set down my feelings that same night, you would have had a page of literature worthy of being published in one of the newspapers.
That’s all over now.
What isn’t over, though—because it existed before and will always exist, because it was born with me and will die with me—is the dream of a love I’ve never encountered on Earth, a love I cannot express, but which must exist, since I have the image of it in my mind and my heart.
Whenever Mama sees me looking bored or daydreaming, she usually says I have my head in the clouds, unaware perhaps that this is an exact description of my state of mind. Isn’t thinking such things just like having one’s head up there in the clouds somewhere?
I’ve just reread what I’ve written, and if I had more writing paper to hand, I would cross it all out. Unfortunately, I’ve run out of paper, it’s midnight, and this letter needs to be sent off early tomorrow morning. So feel free to cross out the whole lot; there’s no point in preserving nonsense.
There’s no other news worthy of mention. Oh, I forgot to say that I’ve discovered one fine quality in Dr. Alberto. Can you guess? He dances divinely. But you’ll say I’m a gossip! And so that you can say no more, I’ll stop here.
Raquel
IX
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 10
This is just a short note to tell you that we’re going to be putting on a play, as we used to at school. Dr. Alberto has been asked to write it, and I’m assured that it will be good. Carlota is performing with me. The male characters will be played by Cousin Abreu, Juca, and Dr. Rodrigues. Ah, if only you were here!
Raquel
X
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, January 15
My husband wants to come to Rio toward the end of next month, so you and I will finally meet up again after all these months apart. I’m only writing to give you this good news, which I know will please you.
I should also issue a warning: you will have to hide in person what you’re hiding from me in your letters.
Farewell.
Luísa
XI
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 20
What am I hiding from you in my letters? I’ve been thinking and pondering, but I don’t know what you mean. I suppose you could be referring to Alberto, but after everything I’ve said about him, that would be going too far.
Explain yourself.
As for the news that you’re coming to Rio, I’m really pleased, but however hard I try to put into words just how pleased I am, I can’t. I don’t know how to, the words won’t come. Dr. Alberto (yes, him!) was saying only the other day that human language is fine for saying what’s in our minds, but incapable of expressing what is in our hearts. And he added this old, but ingenious saying: the head speaks with the lips, and the heart with the eyes.
You will, therefore, have to guess what I’m feeling and come as soon as possible. How’s the baby?
Raquel
XII
TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, January 28
It’s unbearably hot, but now that I’ve opened the window onto the garden, I can see the sky “all embroidered with stars,” as the poets say, and that spectacle makes up for the heat. What a night, Luísa! I love these great silences, because then I can hear myself, and I live more intensely in five minutes of solitude than in twenty hours of hustle and bustle.
Mariquinhas Rocha was here tonight with her husband. They both seem very happy, she even more than he, which seems to me a complete inversion of the natural laws.
Are you surprised to hear me talking about “natural laws”? It’s not my idea, but that of Mariquinhas’s stepson, Dr. Alberto. We were talking about Mariquinhas’s many good and saintly qualities, and I was saying that she has always been like that ever since she was a child.
“She still is a child,” he said, smiling. “I can’t address as ‘stepmother’ a creature who looks more like my younger sister.”
“She may be younger in age,” I retorted, “but in circumspection and composure she’s far older than you, sir.”
He smiled rather wanly, then went on:
“My father is happy, and my stepmother
Think what you may of his views, but I take this opportunity to mention that, in your last letter, there are a couple of lines in which there still seems to be a hint of suspicion. Do write and tell me how I can convince you that, for me, he is just one man among many?
Go on, admit you’ve been cruel to me and prepare yourself to receive a sermon on the subject the very first time we’re together again.
Do you know who I saw today? I’ll give you a sweet if you can guess. Garcia, yes, the same Garcia who was once in love with y . . . No, no, let’s stop there.
Raquel
XIII
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, February 10
I’m not going to admit anything, and I was never cruel. I had my suspicions and I preferred to be open about it, rather than keep it to myself. That is what friendship demands. Why should we abandon the frankness and trust of our school days?
I don’t believe there is any basis for my suspicions, but I believe something else too. I imagine he cuts rather a grotesque figure, and that it was your vanity that was wounded, not your heart. Go on, admit it.
Do you know something? You’re much more poetic than you used to be, more romantic and fanciful. It’s your age, I know, but there are limits, Raquel. Don’t confuse romance with life, or you’ll end up very unhappy indeed . . .
A sermon! And there was I about to give you a sermon, a dull, boring one, and pointless to boot. Let’s talk of things more prosaic. My husband wants to enter politics. Doesn’t that word send a shiver down your spine? Politics and honeymoons just don’t go together! But we’ll see what happens. Greetings from him and me to your mama and you. See you soon.
Luísa
XIV
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, February 15
You’re quite wrong to imagine that Dr. Alberto cuts a grotesque figure; I’ve told you before that he’s an elegant young man, and even that rather slow, sculptural air of his seems to have disappeared since he’s become a regular visitor to our house.
So, no, it wasn’t my vanity that was wounded, nor my heart. I simply felt that you didn’t believe me.
I could give you a dissertation on love right now, but I will refrain from doing so, knowing that I would simply be teaching the priest how to say the Lord’s Prayer.
Your husband wants to get into politics, does he? You’ll be surprised at my opinion on the subject, an unlikely one for a daydreamer, as you call me. I think that politics could bring you a pinch of inconveniences and a whole peck of advantages.
Politics is sure to be a rival, but when weighed in the balance, it’s infinitely preferable to some other kind of rival. It at least occupies mind and life, but leaves the heart free and pure. Besides, I’m not always the delver-into-depths that you think I am; I feel a pinch of ambition in myself, the ambition to be . . . a minister! Are you laughing? Me, too, which is proof that my mind is unpreoccupied and free, as free as this pen racing now over the paper in a hand I’m not entirely sure you’ll be able to read. Farewell.
XV
DR. ALBERTO TO DONA RAQUEL
February 18
Forgive my boldness. I write to beg you on bended knee for the answer that your eyes refuse to give me. I cannot say in this letter exactly what I feel; I couldn’t put that into words, but your mind must have understood what is going on in my heart, you must have read on my face what I would never dare to say out loud.
Alberto
XVI
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
February 21
Mama was keen to come and visit you, but I, alas, am feeling unwell, and so we have postponed the journey. When are you going to keep your promise to come and spend a few days in Rio? We’ll have much to talk about.
Raquel
XVII
TO DONA LUÍSA
March 5
This is not a letter, only a note. Do you know what the human heart is? A riddle. “A mystery!” you will cry when you read these lines. And so it is.
Raquel
XVIII
ALBERTO TO DONA RAQUEL
March 8
Oh, you do not know how grateful I am for your letter! At last! It was a ray of light in the darkness of my uncertainty. Am I loved? Am I deluding myself? Do you feel the same passion that is devouring my heart, one that is incapable of raising me up to heaven, but perfectly capable of carrying me down into hell?
You are quite right when you ask how I can have failed to see the answer in your eyes. I did, indeed, believe I could see my happiness there, but what if I were mistaken? I did not imagine that supreme happiness could come so quickly, and if I was mistaken, I don’t know how I could live . . .
Why do you doubt me? Why do you fear that my love could merely be a way of passing the time? What mortal would play with the glorious crown brought down to Earth in the hands of an angel?
No, Raquel, if I may call you by that name? No, my love is as vast, chaste, and sincere as all true loves.
One word from you can transform that passion into the sweetest, most delicious state of bliss. Will you be my wife? Say it, say the word.
Alberto
XIX
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 10
The heart is a sea, subject to the influence of the moon and the winds. Is that definition any use to you? It’s such a shame that your note did not contain a few more lines, then I would know everything. Still, I can tell one thing: you’re in love.
Luísa
XX
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 17
I wrote to you on the 10th of this month, but have not yet received a reply.
Why?
I wondered if perhaps you had been ill, but I think someone would have told me if you had.
This letter will be delivered to you in person, although the bearer will not be coming back here immediately. Nevertheless, because it is being delivered to you personally, I will at least know immediately how you are.
Come, now, make an effort.
Farewell.
Luísa
XXI
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, March 24
Still no answer. What is going on, Raquel?
The person who delivered my previous letter wrote to say that he had delivered it to you personally, and that you were definitely not ill. So why this neglect on your part? This is my last letter. If you don’t write back, I will assume you have another, more deserving friend, and that you have entirely forgotten your confidante from school.
Luísa
XXII
DONA RAQUEL TO DONA LUÍSA
Rio, March 30
Forget you? You must be mad! Where would I find a better or kinder friend than you? It’s true that I haven’t written, but there are a thousand reasons for that, each more reasonable than the last, with the main reason, or, rather, the one that contains all the other reasons, being just one . . . And I don’t know how to tell you what that is.
Love?
Yes, Luísa, the purest, most ardent love imaginable, and the most unexpected too. Your daydreaming friend, the one who lives with her head in the clouds, saw up there in the clouds the man her heart had hoped for, who was everything she had dreamed him to be and had despaired of ever finding.
I can say no more, I don’t know how to. Everything I could write would be so inferior to the reality. But come, come, and you will perhaps read in my face the happiness I’m feeling, and see in his face the superior quality I always longed for and which is so rare on this Earth.
In short, I am happy!
Raquel
XXIII
DONA LUÍSA TO DONA RAQUEL
Juiz de Fora, April 8
Your letter finally arrived, and just in time, too, because I was ready to forget all about you. Nevertheless, I would still refuse to forgive
Now I see that I was in danger of making you miss your chance of happiness. I talked so much about Dr. Alberto that you could, as sometimes happens, have fallen in love with him, and then, when this other man arrived, it would have been too late.
Tell me, is he old like Mariquinhas Rocha’s husband? Now, don’t be angry, Raquel, but we do sometimes have to eat our words, and it’s just possible that you’ve been punished for saying what you said about him. For my part, I wouldn’t know what to say, just as long as he loves my Raquel and is a worthy husband. A young man would still be preferable, though.
I dare not ask you to send us a picture of him, although my husband would like one. Don’t be annoyed, I told him everything, and he sends his congratulations. I will bring mine with me.
Luísa
XXIV
DONA RAQUEL TO DR. ALBERTO
April 10
I am very angry with you for not coming yesterday; how easily you forget me.
Come today or I really will be angry. And do bring a picture of yourself; I’ll tell you why later.
You missed a very interesting evening yesterday; Dona G. was here, and, naturally, she missed you. Did you miss her? Ah, pity poor Raquel! Farewell.
Raquel