He had just started nailing metal heel and toe taps onto a pair of boots when he saw a man walking slowly along on the pavement opposite, looking up at the buildings and at the faces of the other people passing by. He didn’t have a newspaper in his hand or, it would seem, in his pocket. He stopped opposite Silvestre’s window to study the building floor by floor. Pretending to be absorbed in his work, Silvestre continued to watch him out of the corner of his eye. The man was of medium height, dark-complexioned and probably not yet thirty. He was dressed in the unmistakable manner of someone caught midway between poverty and earning a modest income. His suit was well cut, but rather shabby. The creases in his trousers would have been the despair of Mariana. He was wearing a polo-neck sweater and no hat. Despite appearing quite satisfied with the results of his inspection, he still did not move.
Silvestre began to feel uneasy. Not that he had anything to fear; he hadn’t had any trouble since… since leaving those things behind him, and besides, he was old now. Nevertheless, the man’s immobility and ease of manner troubled him. His wife was singing to herself in the kitchen, in the out-of-tune way that so delighted Silvestre and provided him with a constant source of jokes. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, Silvestre raised his head and looked straight at the stranger, who, in turn, having finished his inspection of the building, met Silvestre’s eyes through the window. They stared at each other, Silvestre with a slightly challenging air, the other man with an inquisitive look on his face. Separated by the street, the two men locked gazes. Silvestre glanced away so as not to appear too provoking, but the other man merely smiled and crossed the street with slow, firm steps. Silvestre felt a shiver run through him as he waited for the bell to ring. This did not happen as soon as he expected; the man must be reading the notice on the door opposite. Finally the bell rang. Mariana paused in the middle of a particularly painful dissonance. Silvestre’s heart beat faster and, half joking to himself, he decided that it was mere presumption on his part to think that the man had come for reasons unconnected with the room, reasons to do with remote events during the time when… The floor trembled beneath Mariana’s approaching bulk. Silvestre drew back the curtain:
“What is it?”
“There’s a man come about the room. Can you deal with him?”
What Silvestre felt was not relief exactly. His faint sigh was filled with sadness, as if an illusion, his very last, had just died, for it clearly had been presumption on his part, and as he made his way to the front door, the thought going around in his mind was that he was an old man now and over the hill. His wife had already told the potential lodger how much the rent would be, but when he’d asked to see the room, she had summoned Silvestre. When the young man saw Silvestre, he smiled, but only with his eyes. He had small, bright, very dark eyes beneath thick, clearly delineated eyebrows. He was, as Silvestre had already noted, dark-complexioned, with clear features, neither gentle nor severe, and a masculine face, slightly softened by a curved, somewhat feminine mouth. Silvestre liked the face.
“So you want to see the room, do you?”
“If that’s all right. The price suits me fine, but I just need to know if the room does too.”
“Come in.”
The boy (or so he seemed to Silvestre) stepped confidently into the apartment. He glanced around at the walls and floor, alarming the estimable Mariana, ever fearful that someone might find fault with her cleaning. The room looked out onto the small garden where Silvestre, in his scarce free time, grew a few equally scarce cabbages and kept a few chickens. The young man looked around him, then turned to Silvestre:
“I really like the room, but I can’t take it!”
Slightly annoyed, Silvestre asked:
“Why not? Is it too expensive?”
“No, as I said, the price is fine, but it’s not furnished.”
“Oh, you want it furnished.”
Silvestre glanced at his wife. She nodded and Silvestre added:
“That’s easy enough to put right. We had a bed in here and a chest of drawers, but we took them out thinking we’d rent the room unfurnished, you see. You never know how other people are going to treat your things. But if you’re interested…”
“And the price would be the same?”
Silvestre scratched his head.
“I wouldn’t want to shortchange you,” said the young man.
This remark immediately won Silvestre over. Anyone who knew him well would have used exactly those words in order to ensure that the rent for the room remained the same, furnished or unfurnished.
“Yes, furnished or unfurnished, what’s the difference?” he said. “In fact, it suits us better that way. We don’t have to be so cluttered up with furniture, then. Isn’t that right, Mariana?”
If Mariana had given voice to her thoughts, she would have said “No, it’s not,” but instead she said nothing, shrugged in an offhand manner and wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. The young man noticed and added:
“No, no, I’ll give you another fifty escudos. Would that be acceptable?”
Mariana was thrilled and decided that she liked the young man after all. Silvestre, for his part, was jumping for joy inside, not because they had reached a satisfactory agreement, but because he could see that he had been quite right about the young man. Their new guest was a thoroughly decent fellow. The young man went over to the window, studied the garden, smiled at the chicks scratching about in the earth and said:
“I’m so sorry, you don’t know who I am. My name’s Abel… Abel Nogueira. You can get references from my place of work and from the house I’ve been living in up until now. I’ll give you the addresses.”
Using the window ledge to rest on, he wrote the two addresses on a scrap of paper and handed it to Silvestre, who at first made as if to refuse, certain that he wouldn’t bother to follow up those “references,” but, in the end, he took it. Standing in the middle of the empty room, the young man was looking at the old man and the old woman and they were looking at the young man. All three of them were pleased, with that smile in their eyes that is worth more than any broad, toothy grin.
“I’ll move in today, then. I’ll bring my things over this evening. And I was hoping that perhaps I could come to some arrangement with the lady of the house as regards laundry.”
Mariana said:
“I hope so too, then there’ll be no need to have your laundry done elsewhere.”
“And would you like some help moving the furniture back in?”
Silvestre hastened to reassure him:
“No, it’s no bother. We’ll sort that out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. It’s not heavy.”
“Good, then I’ll see you later.”
They accompanied him to the front door, all smiles. Out on the landing, the young man mentioned that he would need a key. Silvestre promised to have one made that very afternoon, and the young man left. Silvestre and Mariana went back into the room. Silvestre was still clutching the piece of paper on which their new lodger had written the addresses. He put it in his vest pocket and asked his wife:
“So, what do you think of him?”
“He seems nice enough. But honestly, when it comes to bargaining, you’re such a pushover.”
Silvestre smiled:
“It wouldn’t have made that much difference to us…”
“No, but fifty escudos is still fifty escudos! I’m not sure how much I should charge him for his laundry, though…”