The Psychiatrist and Other Stories by Machado de Assis

Author:Machado de Assis [Assis, Machado de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-10-21T01:00:00+00:00

Translated by HELEN CALDWELL

The Rod of Justice

Damião ran away from the seminary at eleven o’clock in the morning, on a Friday in August. I am not sure of the year, but it was before 1850.5 After a few minutes he stopped in embarrassment. He had not counted on the effect his appearance would have on other people — a seminarist in his cassock, hurrying along with a dazed, fearful look. He did not recognize the streets, he kept missing his way and retracing his steps. Finally he stopped altogether. Where would he go? Home? No, that was where his father was, and his father would send him back to the seminary, after a good trouncing. He had not settled upon a place of refuge, because his departure had been planned for a later date: an unforeseen circumstance hastened it. Where would he go? He thought of his godfather, João Carneiro, a soft muttonhead with no will of his own. He’d be of no help. It was he who took him to the seminary in the first place and presented him to the rector.

“I bring you the great-man-to-be,” he had said to the rector.

“Let him enter, let the great man enter, provided he be also meek and good. True greatness is humble. Young man…”

Such was his introduction. Not long after, he ran away. And now we see him in the street, dazed, uncertain, with no idea of where to take refuge, or even ask for advice. He mentally ran over the houses of relatives and friends without regarding any one of them with much favor. Suddenly he cried out, “I’ll go beg Sinhá6 Rita to protect me! She will send for my godfather, tell him that she wants me to leave the seminary… Maybe…”

Sinhá Rita was a widow, the sweetheart of João Carneiro. Damião had certain vague ideas about this situation and decided to turn it to his advantage. Where did she live? He was so confused that it was several minutes before he could remember where her house was. It was in the Largo do Capim.

“Holy name of Jesus! What’s this?” screamed Sinhá Rita sitting upright on the settee where she had been reclining. Damião entered terror-stricken. At the very moment of reaching the house, he had seen a priest walking along, had given the door a shove, and by great good luck it was neither locked nor bolted. Once inside, he peeked through the lattice to watch the padre. The latter had not noticed him, and kept on his way.

“But what’s this, Senhor Damião?” the mistress of the house again screamed, for it was only now that she recognized him. “What are you doing here?”

Damião, trembling, scarcely able to speak, told her not to be afraid, it was nothing, he would explain everything.

“There, there, go ahead and explain.”

“First of all, I have not perpetrated any crime, that I swear! Wait.”

Sinhá Rita looked at him with a startled air, and all the little slave girls — those of the household

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