Dom Casmurro

by Machado de Assis

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CXIII - Third Party Liens

By the way, it is only natural that you ask me if I had been so jealous of it, I did not continue to seal it despite my son and my years. Yes, sir, I continued. I continued, to the extent that the slightest gesture afflicted me, the most intimate word, any insistence: only the indifference was enough. I became jealous of everything and everyone. A neighbor, a pair of waltz, any man, young or old, filled me with terror or suspicion. It is certain that Capitú liked to be seen, and the means most appropriate for that purpose (one lady told me one day) is to see also, and not to see without showing that it is seen.

The lady who told me this, I think she liked me, and it was of course that I did not find correspondence to her affections that her stubborn eyes explained to me in that way. Other eyes looked for me, not many, and I say nothing about them, having in the first instance confessed my adventures to come, but they were yet to come. At that time, as many beautiful women as she could find, none would receive the least of the love she had for Capitú. My own mother did not want more than half. Capitú was everything and more than anything; he did not live or work unless he thought about her. To theatro we went together; just reminds me that it was twice without her, an actor's benefit, and an operatic debut, which she did not get because I got sick, but I wanted to be. It was late to send the cabin to Escobar; I left, but I came back at the end of the first act. I found Escobar at the door of the hall.

"He came to tell you," he told me.

I explained to him that he had left for the theater, where he had returned from the fear of Captain, who had been ill.

-Sick from what? asked Escobar.

He whirled his head and stomach.

-So, I'm leaving. He was coming to that business of foreclosures ...

They were third-party embargos; There had been an important incident, and when he had dined in the city, he did not want to go home without telling me what it was, but he would speak later.

"No, let's talk now, umbe; she could be better. If it is worse, you go down.

Capitú was better and even good. He confessed that he had only had a headache of nothing, but he had aggravated the suffering so that I would amuse myself. He did not speak cheerful, which made me suspect that he was lying, so as not to frighten me, but he swore that it was pure truth. Escobar smiled and said,

"The little sister is as sick as you or me." Let's go to the foreclosures.


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