Dom Casmurro Chapter 82


Of the furniture only the sofa seemed to have understood our situation, offering its services with such insistence that we accepted and sat down. My own particular opinion concerning sofas dates from that moment. They unite intimacy with decorum, revealing the whole house without us having to leave the drawing-room. Two men sitting on one can discuss the destiny of an empire and two women the cut of a frock; but only by some aberration of nature will a man and a woman talk about anything other than themselves. That was what we did, Capitu and I. I have a vague memory of asking her whether she would be staying there long.

‘I don’t know. The fever seems to be receding … but …’

I also have a vague memory that I told her the simple truth of the reason for my visiting the Rua dos Invalidos; in other words, that it was on my mother’s advice.

‘Her advice?’ murmured Capitu. Then, with sparkling eyes, she added, ‘Everything’s going to come out right!’

My fingers, squeezing hers, gave their assent. The sofa, whether aware of it or not, continued to offer its services to our hands, which were clasped, and our heads, which were together or nearly together.