Dr Cardoso insisted on paying for lunch and Pereira was only too glad to accept, he maintains, because what with those two big banknotes he’d handed over to Marta the evening before his wallet wasn’t exactly flush. Dr Cardoso stood up and said: Goodbye for now, Dr Pereira, I hope to see you in France or some other country in this great wide world, and don’t forget, make room for your new ruling ego, let it come into being, it needs to be born, it needs to assert itself.
Pereira also got to his feet to say goodbye. He watched the other go off and he felt a pang of loss, he maintains, as if that parting were something irremediable. He pondered on the week he had spent at the thalassotherapeutic clinic at Parede, on his conversations with Dr Cardoso, on his own loneliness. And when Dr Cardoso passed through the door and disappeared into the street he felt alone, really and truly alone, and it dawned on him that when one is really and truly alone, that is the moment to come to terms with the ruling ego striving to assert itself over one’s cohorts of souls. But in spite of this thought he did not feel reassured. On the contrary he felt this deep yearning, for exactly what he cannot presume to say, but it was a profound yearning for a life that was past and for one in the future, Pereira maintains.
TWENTY-ONE
The next morning, he declared, Pereira was awakened by the telephone. He was still in the middle of a dream which he seemed to have been dreaming all night, a very long happy dream which he does not think it proper to reveal because it has nothing to do with these events.
Pereira instantly recognized the voice of Senhora Filipa, the editor-in-chief’s secretary. Good morning Dr Pereira, said Filipa in dulcet tones, I’ll put you through to the Chief. Pereira rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up on the edge of the bed. Good morning Dr Pereira, said the well-known voice, this is your editor-in-chief speaking. Good morning sir, replied Pereira, did you have a good holiday? Excellent, excellent, replied the editor-in-chief, the spa at Buçaco is truly magnificent, but I think I have already told you that, we have spoken since then if I am not mistaken. Ah, yes, of course, said Pereira, we spoke when the Balzac story came out, I do apologize but I’ve only just woken up and I haven’t got my ideas straight yet. That can happen to any of us, said the editor-in-chief somewhat tartly, and I imagine it can happen even to you, Dr Pereira. It can indeed, agreed Pereira, it happens mostly first thing in the morning because I have sudden fluctuations of blood pressure. Stabilize them with a little salt, advised the editor-in-chief, a little salt under the tongue will stabilize your blood pressure, but I have not called you to talk about your blood pressure, Dr Pereira, the fact is that you never come into the head office, that’s the problem, you stay shut up in that room in Rua Rodrigo da Fonseca and never come and discuss anything with me, you don’t tell me your plans, you do everything off your own bat. Forgive me for saying so sir, said Pereira, but the fact is you gave me carte blanche, you said the culture page was my responsibility, I mean you actually instructed me to do everything off my own bat. That’s all very well, continued the editor-in-chief, but don’t you think that every now and then you ought to confer with me? It would be a good thing for me too, agreed Pereira, because the fact is I’m all on my own on the culture page, far more than I like, but you told me you didn’t want anything to do with the culture page. What about your assistant, asked the editor-in-chief, didn’t you tell me you had taken on an assistant? Yes, replied Pereira, but his articles are still somewhat unpolished, and anyway no interesting writer has died, and he’s a young chap and asked to go on holiday, I suppose he’s off at the sea, I haven’t seen him for nearly a month. Sack him, Dr Pereira, said the editor-in-chief, what are you doing with an assistant who can’t write articles and goes off on holiday? Let’s give him one more chance, replied Pereira, after all he has to learn the job, he’s just an inexperienced youngster, he has to start at the bottom and work up. At that moment the dulcet tones of Senhora Filipa interrupted the conversation. Excuse me sir, but there’s a call for you from the Ministry, it seems urgent. Very well, Dr Pereira, said the editor-in-chief, I shall have a call put through to you in about twenty minutes, meanwhile for goodness’ sake wake up properly and dissolve a little salt under your tongue. I’ll call you back if you like, said Pereira. No, said the editor-in-chief, I do not wish to be hurried, you will hear from me when I am ready, goodbye.
Pereira got up and had a quick bath. He made coffee and ate a salty biscuit. Then he dressed and went into the hall. The editor-in-chief is ringing me back, he told his wife’s photograph, it seems to me he’s beating about the bush and hasn’t yet come to the point, I don’t understand what he’s on about but he ought to come to the point, don’t you think? His wife’s photo smiled its faraway smile and Pereira said: Ah well, never mind, we’ll see what it’s all about, I have nothing to blame myself for, at least as far as the paper is concerned, I do nothing but translate nineteenth-century French stories.