Quincas Borba (Library of Latin America) by Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis Read Free Book Online

both go to him …”
    The three of them went, because the dog wouldn’t let his master leave without accompanying him. Quincas Borba drew up his will with the usual formalities and returned home tranquilly. Rubião felt his heart pounding violently.
    “Naturally I’m not going to let you go to the capital alone,” he said to his friend.
    “No, it’s not necessary. Besides, Quincas Borba’s not going, and I don’t trust him with anyone but you. I’m leaving the house just the way it is. I’ll be back a month from now. I’m going tomorrow. I don’t want him to sense my leaving. Take care of him, Rubião.”
    “Yes, I’ll take care of him.”
    “You swear?”
    “By the light that guides me. Do you think I’m a child?”
    “Give him his milk at the proper time, his meals as usual, and his baths. And when you take him out for a walk see that he doesn’t run off. No. It’s best that he doesn’t go out… doesn’t go out…”
    “Rest assured.”
    Quincas Borba was weeping for the other Quincas Borba. He didn’t want to see the dog when he left. He was really crying, tears of madness or affection, whichever they were, he was leaving them behind on the good soil of Minas like the last sweat of a dark soul ready to fall into the abyss.

IX
     
    H ours later Rubião had a horrible thought. People might think that he himself had pushed his friend into taking the trip in order to kill him quicker and come into possession of his legacy, if he really was included in his will. He felt remorse. Why hadn’t he made every effort to hold him back. He could see Quincas Borba’s corpse, pale, stinking, staring up at him with a vengeful look. He resolved that in case the trip took a fatal turn he would renounce the legacy.
    For his part, the dog spent his time sniffing about, whining, trying to run away. He couldn’t sleep restfully. He would get up many times at night, run through the house, and return to hiscorner. In the morning Rubião would call him to his bed, and the dog would come happily. He imagined that it was his own master. He would then see that it wasn’t, but he would accept the petting and return it, as if Rubião were going to take him to his friend or bring his friend there. Besides, he’d taken a liking to him, and he was the bridge linking him to his previous existence. He didn’t eat for the first few days. He was bothered more by thirst. Rubião managed to get him to drink milk. It was his only nourishment for some time. Later on he would pass the hours in silence, sad, rolled up into a ball or with his body stretched out and his head between his paws.
    When the doctor returned he was astounded at his patient’s temerity. They should have tried to stop him. It was certain death.
    “Certain?”
    “Sooner or later. Did he take that dog with him?”
    “No, sir, he’s with me. He asked me to take care of him and he cried. You should have seen him. I thought he’d never stop. The truth is,” Rubião then said as a defense of the sick man, “the truth is that the dog deserves his master’s esteem. He’s just like a person.”
    The doctor took off his broad–brimmed straw hat to adjust the band, then he smiled. “A person? So he’s just like a person, eh?” Rubião repeated it and then explained. He wasn’t a person like other persons, but he had touches of feeling, even intelligence. Look, he was going to tell him a ...
    “No, old man, not now, later, later, I’ve got to go see a patient with erysipelas . . . If any letters come from him and they’re not private, I’d like to see them, hear? And give my regards to the dog,” he concluded as he left.
    Some people began to make fun of Rubião and the strange duty of guarding a dog when the dog should be guarding him. The mockery began, the nicknames. Look how the teacher had ended up! Sentry for a dog! Rubião was afraid of public opinion. It did, in fact, look ridiculous to him. He would avoid other people’s eyes, look at the dog