My mother, when I returned bachelor, almost burst with happiness. I still hear the voice of Jose Dias, remembering the Gospel of St. John, and saying as we embrace each other. "Woman, there is your son!" Son, here is your mother! My mother, in tears: -Mano Cosme, it's the face of the pae, is not it? "Yes, there is something, the eyes, the disposition of the face. It is the pae, a little more modern, he concluded by punishment. And tell me now, sister Gloria, was not it better that he did not stubbornly be a priest? See if this cantor would give a capable priest. - How's my replacement coming? "Go on, get ready for the year," replied Uncle Cosme. You must go and see the ordination; I also, if my lord heart consent. It is good that you feel in the soul of the other, as if you received the consecration in yourself. "Right! exclaimed my mother. But look, my dear Cosimo, see if you are not the figure of my dead. Look, Bentinho, look at me. I always thought you were like him, now it's much more. The mustache is that undoes a little ... -Yes, mana Gloria, the mustache really ... but it's very similar. And my mother kissed me with a tenderness I do not know how to write. Uncle Cosimo, to cheer her up, called me doctor, Jose Dias, and everyone at home, the cousin, the slaves, the visitors, Padova, her daughter, and she herself repeated the title to me.
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