Paulino went over to her and spoke more calmly:
“Tell me if it’s true or not.”
“I have nothing further to add.”
“It’s true, then, it must be! If it wasn’t, you would protest your innocence and—”
“If you really want to know what I think, I’ll tell you. That letter is just an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?”
“You know as well as I do.”
“Are you suggesting that I wrote it?”
“Some people will do anything to get what they want…”
“That’s an out-and-out lie!” roared Paulino. “I would never do such a thing!”
“Possibly…”
“Don’t push me too far!”
Lídia stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and got to her feet, trembling with rage:
“You burst in here like some kind of savage, make some ridiculous accusation and expect me not to react?”
“So it’s not true, then?”
“Do you honestly expect me to answer that? It’s up to you whether you choose to believe what the letter says rather than believe me, but you’ve already said that you believe the letter, so what are you waiting for?” She gave a sudden laugh and added: “Men who think they’ve been deceived usually either kill the woman or leave. Or pretend they know nothing. What are you going to do?”
Paulino slumped down on the sofa, defeated:
“Just tell me it’s a lie…”
“I’ve said what I had to say. I only hope you don’t take too long to come to a decision.”
“You’re making things very awkward for me…”
Lídia turned her back on him and went to the window. Her mother followed her and whispered:
“Why don’t you tell him it’s a lie? He’d feel better then…”
“Leave me alone!”
Her mother sat down again, gazing at Paulino with a commiserating look on her face. Paulino, still sitting hunched on the sofa, was beating his head with his fists, unable to find a way out of the labyrinth into which he had been plunged. He had received the letter after lunch and almost had a heart attack when he read it. The letter was unsigned. It gave no indication of where the illicit meetings took place — which meant he had no chance of catching Lídia in flagrante — but it did go into long, detailed descriptions and urged Paulino to be a man. When he reread it (shut up in his office so as not to be disturbed), it occurred to him that the letter had its good side. He was still intoxicated by Maria Cláudia’s freshness and youth. He was always finding pretexts to call her into the office, and this was already setting tongues wagging among the other employees. Like any self-respecting employer, he had a trusted employee who kept him informed of everything that was said and done in the company. Paulino, however, had gone on to provoke still more gossip by redoubling his attentions to Maria Cláudia. The letter could not have come at a better time. A violent scene, a few insults, and goodbye, I’m off to pastures new! There were, of course, obstacles in his path: Maria Cláudia’s age, her parents… He had considered keeping both irons in the fire, so to speak: continuing his relationship with Lídia, who was, after all, a very tasty morsel, and wooing Claudinha, who promised to be an even more tasty morsel. But that was before he had received the letter. It was a formal accusation and called upon him to be a man and take a stand. The worst thing was that he wasn’t entirely sure about Claudinha and feared losing Lídia. He had neither the time nor the inclination to find another mistress. But what to do about the letter? Lídia was cheating on him with some poor wretch obliged to live in rented rooms: that was the worst possible insult, a slur on his manhood. Young woman, old man, young lover. He could not possibly let such an insult pass. He called Claudinha into his office and spent the whole afternoon talking to her, without, of course, mentioning the letter. He very carefully tested the waters and was quite pleased with the result. When she left, he reread the letter and decided to take whatever radical steps the case demanded. Hence the present scene.
Lídia, however, had reacted in a completely unforeseen way. He had explained the dilemma to her as coolly as possible: to stay or to leave, reserving for himself the right to proceed as he saw fit should he decide on the former option. But why had she not answered his question? Why would she not just say yes or no?
“Lídia, why can’t you just give me a yes or a no?”
She eyed him haughtily:
“Are you still harping on about that? I thought the matter was settled.”
“This is ridiculous. We’ve always been such good friends…”
Lídia gave a sad, ironic smile.
“How can you smile at a time like this? Answer my question!”
“If I tell you it’s true, what will you do?”
“Well, I don’t know… leave you, I suppose!”
“Fine. And I assume you’ve already considered that if I tell you it’s not true, you’re liable to receive more such letters? How long do you think you could stand that? Do you expect me to wait here at your beck and call until the time comes when you stop believing me?”
Her mother said:
“Surely you can see it’s a lie, Senhor Morais. You just have to look at her.”
“Shut up, Mother!”
Paulino shook his head, perplexed. Lídia was right. When the person who had written the letter saw that nothing had come of it, he would write more letters, giving more details, more information. He might become still more insolent, calling him the worst names a man can be called. How long would he be able to stand that? And what guarantee was there that Claudinha would be prepared to play second fiddle? He sprang to his feet.
“Right, that’s it! I’m leaving. Now.”
Lídia turned pale. Despite all she had said, she had not expected her lover to leave her. She had been totally honest with him, but, she realized, she had also been imprudent. Feigning serenity, she answered:
“Fine, if that’s the way you want it.”
Paulino put on his raincoat and picked up his hat. He wanted to end the matter honorably, as befitted his dignity as a man.
“You shouldn’t have done what you did. I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I hope things work out well for you.”
He headed for the door, but Lídia stopped him:
“Hang on. The things in this apartment that belong to you, which is just about everything, are yours for the taking. You can send for them whenever you choose.”
“I don’t want anything. You can keep them. I have money enough to set up another woman in her own apartment. Good night.”
“Good night, Senhor Morais,” said Lídia’s mother. “I still think—”
“Shut up, Mother!”
Lídia went to the door that gave onto the corridor and said to Paulino as he was about to turn the handle and leave:
“I wish you every happiness with your new mistress. Take care they don’t make you marry her!”
Paulino left without answering. Lídia turned around and sat down on the sofa. She lit another cigarette. She looked scornfully at her mother and said:
“What are you waiting for? There’ll be no more money, so go! Wasn’t I just saying that all good things come to an end?”
Wearing an expression of wounded dignity, her mother went over to her. She opened her handbag, took the money from her purse and placed it on the bed:
“Here you are. You might need it yourself.”
Lídia did not move:
“Keep the money! I can always earn more the same way I earned that. Now go!”
Her mother took the money and left, as if this had been her intention all along. She was not very pleased with herself. Her daughter’s last words reminded her that she could have continued to count on that financial support had she been less aggressive, had she taken her daughter’s side and been more affectionate… But then the filial bond is a strong one… and so she left, hoping that, sooner or later, she might still be able to come back.