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“It sounds to me like you’ve quarreled. Well, you be careful!”

“What’s it got to do with you? If we have or haven’t quarreled, that’s my business.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong, even if…”

“Go on… even if what?”

The woolen thread had become so coiled and tangled it appeared to be full of knots, or, rather, her mother was bending so low over her work at this point, it was as if the Gordian knot itself had been resuscitated.

“Go on, spit it out.”

“What I meant to say was… even if you’d found a better position!”

Lídia snapped the book shut. Startled, her mother dropped a whole row of stitches.

“The only thing that would prevent me from kicking you out right now is my respect for you as my mother. Except, of course, that I don’t respect you, not one bit, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, I still can’t bring myself to kick you out!”

“Goodness, whatever did I say for you to get so hot under the collar?”

“How can you ask? Put yourself in my place!”

“Oh, what a fuss about nothing! What did I say that was so wrong? I’m just concerned about you.”

“Please, just shut up, will you?”

“But—”

“Like I said, please, shut up!”

Her mother whimpered:

“How can you treat me like this? Me, your own mother, the one who brought you up and loved you? Is this all the thanks a mother gets?”

“If I was a normal daughter and you were a normal mother, you’d be justified in complaining.”

“And what about all the sacrifices I made, what about them?”

“You’ve been richly rewarded, if, that is, you ever made any sacrifices. You’re in an apartment paid for by Senhor Morais, you’re sitting on a chair bought by him, you’ve just drunk the same coffee he drinks, the money in your purse is money he gave to me. Isn’t that enough?”

Her mother continued to whimper:

“How can you say such things? I feel positively ashamed…”

“Oh, yes, I can see that. You only feel ashamed when things are spelled out for you. If you just think them, though, then you’re not ashamed.”

Her mother quickly dried her eyes and said:

“I wasn’t the one who forced you into this way of life. It was your choice!”

“Thank you very much. I fear that, given the turn the conversation is taking, this will be the last time you set foot in my apartment!”

“Which isn’t yours anyway!”

“Thank you again. But regardless of whether it’s mine or not, I’m the one who gives the orders here. And if I say get out, you will.”

“You might need me one day.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t come knocking at your door! I’d rather starve to death than ask you for so much as one cêntimo back of what I’ve given you.”

“Which wasn’t yours either!”

“But which I earned, right? I actually earned that money. I earned it with my body. There has to be some point in having a nice body, even if it’s only to feed you!

“I don’t know why I don’t just leave!”

“Shall I tell you why? It’s fear, fear of losing the goose who lays the golden eggs. I’m the goose, the eggs are there in your purse, the nest is this bed and the gander, well, you know who he is, don’t you?”

“Don’t be so coarse!”

“I feel like being coarse today, and sometimes the truth can be very coarse indeed. Everything’s all fine and dandy until we start being coarse, until we start telling the truth!”

“That’s it, I’m leaving!”

“Please do. And don’t come back either, because you might still find me in the mood to tell you a few home truths!”

Her mother rolled and unrolled her knitting, delaying having to get up. Still playing for time, she said:

“Look, you’re not yourself today, dear. It’s your nerves. I didn’t mean to upset you, but you went too far. You two have probably had a bit of a tiff, which is why you’re all on edge, but it’ll pass, you’ll see…”

“You know, it’s like you’re made of rubber. However hard you’re punched, you always bounce back. Can’t you see that I want you to leave?”

“Yes, yes, but I’ll ring you tomorrow to find out how you are. It’ll pass.”

“You’ll be wasting your time.”

“Look, dear…”

“I’ve said what I have to say. Now please leave.”

Her mother gathered her things together, picked up her handbag and prepared to go. Given the way in which the conversation was ending, she had little hope of ever coming back. She tried to soften her daughter’s heart with tears:

“You can’t imagine how upsetting this is for me…”

“Oh, yes I can. What’s upsetting you is the thought of your little allowance being docked. Isn’t that right? Well, all good things come to an end…”

She broke off when she heard the front door open. She got up and went out into the corridor:

“Who is it? Oh, it’s you, Paulino! I wasn’t expecting you today…”

Paulino came in. He was wearing a raincoat and didn’t bother to remove his hat. When he saw Lídia’s mother, he cried:

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m—”

“Get out!”

He almost shouted these words. Lídia intervened:

“Whatever’s gotten into you, Paulino? You’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

Paulino glared at her:

“What do you think?” He turned around again and bawled: “Are you still here? Didn’t I tell you to leave? No, wait, now you’ll find out what a sweet little thing your daughter is. Sit down!”

Lídia’s mother fell back onto her chair.

“And you can sit down too!” Paulino said to Lídia.

“I’m not used to being spoken to in that tone. I don’t want to sit down.”

“Do as you please, then.”

He removed his hat and coat and threw them on the bed. Then he turned to Lídia’s mother and said:

“You’re a witness to the way I’ve always treated your daughter…”

“Yes, Senhor Morais.”

Lídia broke in:

“So is this a matter for me or for my mother?”

Paulino wheeled around as if he’d been bitten by something. He took two steps toward Lídia, expecting her to draw back, but she didn’t. Paulino took a letter from his pocket and held it out to her:

“Here’s the proof that you’ve been cheating on me!”

“You’re mad!”

Paulino clutched his head:

“Mad? Mad? You have the nerve to call me mad? Read it, read what it says!”

Lídia opened the letter and read it in silence. Her face remained utterly impassive. When she reached the end, she asked:

“And you believe what it says in this letter, do you?”

“Do I believe it? Of course I do!”

“So what are you waiting for?”

Paulino stared at her, uncomprehending. He found Lídia’s coolness disconcerting. Mechanically, he folded the letter and put it away. Lídia was looking him straight in the eye. Embarrassed, he turned to her mother, who was watching, mouth wide in amazement:

“Your daughter has been unfaithful to me with a neighbor, the young man who lodges with the cobbler and his wife, a mere boy!”

“Oh, Lídia, how could you?” exclaimed her mother, horrified.

Lídia sat down on the sofa, crossed her legs, took out a cigarette and put it between her lips. Out of sheer habit, Paulino offered her a light.

“Thank you,” she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I don’t know what you’re both waiting for. Paulino, you say you believe what’s in that letter, and you, my mother, find me accused of having an affair with a young man who, I imagine, hasn’t a cêntimo to his name. So why don’t you both just leave?”