Francisca Page #8

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an effort;

A painful obligation!

She had no reason

to complain, or reproach him

no questions

or domestic strives.

This was an exemplary union,

serene and noble, yet cold".

Don Juan and that chaste Adelina.

"This friendship that man feels for man,

she was capable of that

like no other woman has been before.

like no other woman

had been before"

Fanny!

What's happening to me is terrible.

"No doubt that here,

much like with the laws of blood,

the secret influence of sex

will exert its innocent power".

Was it him who convinced you

of such a monstrosity?

- Was it him who convinced you?

- Not at all.

A woman is capable of everything

when a foot is pressing her heart.

- It was you who told me that.

- You're lost, Fanny.

I now know a demon

called stubbornness.

Yawning has become

my most authentic emotion.

I learnt that we can use

more liveliness in affections

when we are distant

from passions.

Everybody

should know that.

It should be taught

in schools.

No one can reproach me

for what I feel.

Camilo went visiting Manuel Negrao

in the Quinta do Mosteiro.

Fanny is dead!

I've seen her not long ago.

She has the putrid stench of a corpse,

and those eyes that you knew

are translucent like the eyes of an owl.

Translucent...

- You exaggerate! - I don't. And that

fills my heart with grief.

Nobody there

is perfectly sane.

They all cry

and fell into deep sorrow.

Mortified lives

have a reward.

They end with a smile,

like you say.

But I could have ended, with

a smile, when I was sixteen,

quite far from a mortified life.

- You would die like a hero,

which is the only way

to pay all our debts.

Rangel was full of debts,

and that's why he gave his life

side by side with MacDonnell.

- It's possible.

"Miguelism" was not about D. Miguel.

It was about us, the inaccomplishable.

When Jos Augusto

came with Fanny to Oporto,

and stayed in the Barths Hotel,

Camilo was already reluctant

to visit them.

If you are to cry like that,

I wish you hadn't recognized me.

What's wrong, Fanny?

What is the reason

for your suffering?

Nobody tells me anything.

Nothing serious. It's a pain, here,

underneath the left kidney.

And it had reached the chest.

I had a chest ailment as a child,

and I used to cough a lot.

I'd take poppy syrup at night,

to soothe me.

She is very weak.

We are going to Madeira,

to spend a season.

Would you like to come?

They never left continental land.

But Jos Augusto's house

in Vilar de Paraso

was still furnished.

Upon returning to the Lodeiro house,

Fanny wasn't feeling well

and so they stayed there. Dona Maria

Rita came to visit her daughter.

Fanny, Maria is going

to get married.

What dress will she wear?

Mine will be of white satin.

I want my night to be so brilliant

as to dispel darkness.

Don't cry. Oh, don't listen to me,

and don't cry!

The spirit of a sick woman

is called presumption.

- Isn't there a man who can love me?

- He loves you, Fanny. Very much.

Yet you are not

ordinary people.

Fire burns in the innermost

of vulgar things.

Look, Jos Augusto.

I started on the wrong track, but it

doesn't matter. I will be back.

Jos Augusto.

Son!

What is an ordinary person?

Tell me, Jos Augusto.

Once I walked down a street,

one of those nobody talks about.

At least,

in the presence of girls.

I walked by,

by mistake.

To take the shortest cut.

Because something was dragging me there.

And I saw it.

Sitting by the door of their houses,

that looked like dovecotes.

I saw them, vulgar women.

On their skins,

coarse levantine gowns

with small bouquets

of wild pansies.

And so many bowknots, ribbons,

fringed cords and plumes

that they looked like

large cradles

prepared to accommodate a child,

a princes' son.

They were coarse. They were

teaching lust,

the coarse kindred of eternity.

I love you. I wish to die,

before the mystery of our love

becomes a banal sin.

Tell Camilo that my heart grieves

for being unable to love him.

If I could be happy with you,

I would always see a dark cloud

hovering over that happiness.

It would be his sadness.

I believe that the heat of my passion

would make you go

beyond the limits of pleasure.

I want to conquer you,

Jos Augusto.

To possess you, steal you

from everyone else

and yourself.

From your genius,

from your genius.

I told you about my star.

But who do you see in that star?

Surrender will be easy.

You know, Jos Augusto?

I no longer suffer

with those who suffer.

Your disgrace

does not stir me anymore.

The only thing I miss is my heart,

which I lost.

Jos Augusto isn't here, Fanny.

It's the doctor,

doctor Joaquim Ferreira.

Memory has gone with the soul.

It seems that

there is something...

How were the shoes she was

wearing when ran off with me?

How were they? Of goat-skin?

With a silken lace? Of cotton?

If we drop some

holy wax over her heart,

she will awake. But no one

wants to summon the dead.

- I'm to blame for much of this.

- No, that's not true.

She had a propensity; she was

anemic since childhood.

She was sick at the age of 12.

I think she had a bruised lung

since then.

- If I could be sure!

I wouldn't feel this weight, this

remorse, this darkness.

- But you can't vouch for that.

- Only with the autopsy.

In any case, a medical report.

I'd rather see you distressed

than impatient.

There is some sort of offense

that is burning your heart.

Three days ago I asked Fanny

to see the diary she was writing.

The pages had been torn.

Her mystery wasn't there anymore.

I can't even imagine

what made her suffer so much

It is something that shall

remain obscure forever.

Nevertheless, he trusted

doctor Joaquim Ferreira

in his famous testimony

about Fanny's virginity,

something that Camilo himself

asks him to verify.

The autopsy episode

suggests that Jos Augusto

wanted to know for sure

if Fanny had had a past.

- Do I frighten you, girl?

- No, sir.

It's just that it affects me

to enter this place.

It is a heart,

a stagnant muscle,

like a stopped clock.

It didn't affect you when

you could feel it beating in her chest,

in her pulse. Then,

yes, it was frightening.

Amazing things came out of it:

the destiny of a man,

and even of others.

The absolute and vengeful truth

was also produced there.

And even God, on his throne,

built Himself inside of it,

like an engineering work,

a bridge or a sidewalk.

Now look at it.

It's clean, harmless,

odorless and fireless,

with nothing to bring disorder

into the world.

Let me go, Mr. Jos Augusto.

Did you like her?

She was a good woman.

But you didn't love her.

She was an angel but you didn't love

her. She had virtues, talents,

marvelous beauty.

But all that was useless for you.

No, don't rush.

Wait here.

What makes us love someone?

We are broken in pieces,

searching for our bodies,

which are scattered

all over the world.

The womb that wants

to forget sin screams;

the kidney that wants

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