The Illustrious House of Ramires by José Maria de Eça de Queirós

Author:José Maria de Eça de Queirós
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780811226981
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2017-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

VII

As he was coming back in to lunch after a stroll in the orchard, Gonçalo was still casually leafing through the Gazeta do Porto when he saw Casco, José Casco from Bravais — wearily sunk in thought, his hat on his knees — sitting on the stone bench next to the kitchen door, where Rosa was changing her canary’s millet. Hoping to avoid him, Gonçalo quickly hid behind his newspaper, but then he noticed the man’s scrawny figure emerging out of the shade of the vine trellis and walking hesitantly, almost fearfully, towards him across the dazzlingly bright courtyard. Emboldened by Rosa’s presence, Gonçalo stopped and attempted a smile, while Casco, turning the hard brim of his hat round and round in his trembling hands, finally blurted out:

‘If you would be so kind as to let me have a word with you, sir.’

‘Ah, it’s you, Casco! I didn’t recognise you. How can I help?’

Reassured, he folded up his newspaper, rather enjoying the submissive attitude of the ruffian who, dark and erect as a pine tree, had so terrified him when they’d met in the solitude of the woods. Barely able to speak, Casco kept tugging awkwardly at the thick embroidered collar constraining his neck, until, finally, he opened his heart and sobbed out his request, only just managing to hold back the tears filling his eyes:

‘Please, sir, forgive me! Ah, I don’t even know how to begin to ask your forgiveness!’

Gonçalo interrupted him, generously, gently. Hadn’t he warned him? One achieves nothing by threatening people.

‘You know, Casco, when you ambushed me that night, I had a revolver in my pocket. I always carry one with me ever since the night in Coimbra, in the Choupal, when two drunks attacked me. Now imagine if I’d taken out my revolver and fired! That would have been terrible, wouldn’t it? Fortunately, I realised in time that I risked getting carried away, risked killing you, which is why I fled, so as not to fire my revolver. Anyway, that’s all in the past. I’m not a man to hold grudges, and I’ve forgotten all about it. And now that you’ve calmed down and are in your right mind, you should forget it too.’

Head bowed, Casco was still clutching the brim of his hat. Without looking up, without daring to, his voice hoarse and broken with sobbing, he said:

‘I realise that, sir, and I curse my own stupidity, my madness. Especially after what you did for my wife and for my little boy!’

Gonçalo smiled and shrugged:

‘Nonsense, Casco! Your wife turned up here on a filthy night, and the little boy, poor thing, was ill with fever. How is little Manuel, by the way?’

Out of the depths of his humility, Casco answered:

‘God be praised, sir, he’s strong and healthy.’

‘Good. Now put on your hat, man, and off you go. You have nothing to thank me for, Casco. But bring your little boy over to see me one day. I liked him. He’s a bright lad.’

Casco, however, would not leave.

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