Father Ricardo was right. As we grew up, more and more tasks fell on Diogo and both Maria da Luz and I grew gradually apart from him. Always busy, Diogo could no longer take part in our walks though the estate or join us in our small adventures. At first, used to his presence, we could not play the same games without feeling a kind of void. But despite all their generosity, children are always a bit selfish too and so, Luz and I soon found other ways to pass the time.
Then, there came the time when my Father decided to start our education and so, while I learned how to read and write and Luz had piano lessons, our childhood friend took care of our horses and helped the caretaker with his chores.
Maria da Luz did not sleep in Cecília’s room anymore and Diogo had already left mine. There was cordiality in our words; our relationship wasn’t as cold and indifferent as between my Father and the servants, but it was as if a barrier – made of very thin glass but still a barrier – had been raised between us.
I can’t quite put my finger on the exact moment when the barrier started to rise. I’m sure Diogo must have felt but unfortunately it would take me five years to feel it too.
One morning, while I was riding my horse near the place where we used to play, next to the stream, a kind of instinct made me stop the horse and – as if looking through a window to the past – I saw three children: two little boys and a little girl of intensely blond braids, joyously laughing and chasing butterflies and all manner of animals.
But there was no one at the stream except me and my thorough-bred. It was just the memory of my childhood times. I don’t know what happened, what force drove me, but the truth is I asked myself: what had happened to our friendship? Why was I alone at that stream where Luz and Diogo had accompanied me so many times? And how long had I been alone like that? Had Diogo forgotten? Had he let our friendship go to sleep in a too deep corner of his heart, as I had done? No, of course not. How unfair! Diogo had never forgotten us, I was sure. And how hurt he must have felt! Lord, how ungrateful we had been! I felt a kind of impulse telling me it was urgent to make things right. I had to talk to Diogo, ask him to forgive me, bring our friendship back to life. But my excitement soon gave way to worry. Was it still possible to bring it back to life? I kind of felt that I didn’t know Diogo as deeply as I once had anymore. Could that old camaraderie go back to what it had once been? Aware that I would never know if I didn’t at least try, I headed home at a walk. And as the horse moved slowly and my eyes took in all the estate, memories went through my mind of our games, the laughing, the running around, of Maria da Luz protesting when we pulled her braids, of our childish view of the disputes between liberals and absolutists. It seemed so obvious to me now that Diogo had always been a true liberal. Even as a child, when to me liberals and absolutists were nothing more than a pretext for fun and energetic games. If he had always kept his reserve and never admitted it, it was only because he feared that his opinions might influence me and thus contribute to a conflict between Father and son. But all his discretion had been in vain. Maybe people are born with certain destinies and mine said I would become a liberal. Maybe that’s why I was on their side whenever there was a new uprising. It was getting hard to pretend. It was getting difficult to worry about keeping him happy when our political views were so different.
But it was about Diogo and not my Father that I worried now. When I got to the stables after crossing the estate, my childhood friend was brushing Trovoada, my Father’s favourite horse. He turned his head when he heard me approaching him and smiled. «Back so soon? Didn’t you enjoy your ride?» «Yes, I did», I said as I dismounted and handed him the horse, so that he would that care of the animal and place him in his box.
As I was coming back through the estate, I had planned my conversation with Diogo. I had mentally rehearsed every word, to make sure I would express myself clearly and effectively, but Diogo’s behaviour, asking me if I had not enjoyed my ride not as if he really cared about the answer but because he needed to show politeness and respect to his employer, that tone of indifference, made me feel a kind of disbelief. I grabbed Diogo’s arms and I looked into his eyes, trying to read as deeply as possible into his soul to make sure our friendship had not died. My eyes must have looked scary, for Diogo looked at me as if I had gone crazy. «Sir, aren’t you feeling alright?» «My God, Diogo! What was it that happened?», I asked, without letting go of his arms. «I think I should be the one asking that...» «No, you don’t understand! I’m talking about our friendship. What happened to our friendship? Did we lose it? Did we throw it away? Don’t you remember how we used to be friends? You can’t have just forgotten! Tell me you didn’t forget it, tell me we did not lose our friendship».
It was Diogo’s time to take my arms and looking into my eyes, he said: «Our friendship never died, Sir. You and Miss Maria da Luz just let it go to sleep». «And can you forgive me?», I asked, more reassured now that I could see Diogo had not forgotten. «And her?» Forgetting our social differences for the first time in his life, Diogo gave me a friendly tap on my shoulder as he said: «There’s nothing to forgive, my good friend».
This is just one of the instances I could give to illustrate the generosity and nobility of character that Diogo had since a very young age, but I’ll have the chance of recounting them later on in this narrative.
I felt happier now, reconciled with my childhood friend, but something was missing for that happiness to be complete. It was my sister, Maria da Luz. Luz and I had never been so distant as I had been from Diogo, but just like me, she too had left the detachment between herself and Diogo grow. Maybe with her that came even more naturally, because she was a woman and so her interests were different from ours.
Boys of the age Diogo and I were now are usually selfish concerning the opposite sex. It wouldn’t be surprising if my friend and I didn’t miss Maria da Luz, despite her having been part of that childhood camaraderie which we were now trying to revive. But maybe because I saw Diogo blushing whenever he passed by my sister, or perhaps just because we had virtually no friends outside the Roseiral and felt the need to keep together, I wanted Luz to feel our friendship being reborn from the ashes too.
Luz, the youngest of the three, was now thirteen. The fact that my Mother had died early had made Luz grow up faster than the other girls, soon developing the feminine qualities that make a home more graceful. That brought a little more joy to the Roseiral, but my sister’s serene smile and peaceful manners were not enough to break the icy graveness that D. José imparted to everything around him.
Luz had become a beautiful girl. The forms of the woman were already beginning to show in the one who was still a little girl. The tall slender body made her look somewhat haughty. The long arms moved with agility and with the lightness of a feather, and watching her play the piano was like contemplating a perfect painting. She now wore her pretty blond braids caught up on the back of the head, and my Father, who had promised to give her my mother’s gold necklace when she was fifteen, let her have it by her thirteenth birthday. However, her face still betrayed her youth and her blue eyes, so similar to those I saw in my Mother’s portrait, still sparkled with innocence and purity, although I must admit that never left her.
Just as Luz was becoming a woman, Diogo and I were becoming men, and he could not ignore my sister’s beauty. It was hard for me to tell if he loved her or if he just blushed and lowered his eyes when she walked by him like shy men do when pretty women walk by them. Diogo was not excessively shy but his sense of respect to our family could have led to that reaction. However, maybe because I was seduced by the idea of my best friend courting my sister, I was more inclined to believe the first hypothesis and to play Cupid, not thinking about the consequences which that might entail.
Now that I was feeling happy and also proud to have Diogo back as a friend, all the loneliness which I had been feeling for a long time had disappeared. I had not only someone to talk to but also someone with whom I could discuss my liberal views, for whenever I approached the subject with my Father, he eventually threatened to throw me out of the house.
I rarely felt melancholy anymore during my rides through the estate because even though Diogo could not be with me since he was always busy, I knew I had his friendship. Now, when I returned home, I rarely retired to my room anymore to stick my nose in books I had already read at least three times. And when I got back and handed my horse to Diogo, we would spend hours talking as he took care of the animals.
Sometimes, I would see my Father looking from his bedroom window with a disapproving expression and I felt at one time annoyed and scared. Annoyed because I could not suffer my Father to control my life and feel he had the right to disapprove of my friends. And scared because... Well, the truth is I don’t really know why. The look on D. José Avila’s eyes had the effect of scaring people. Frequently had he uttered the threat of kicking me out of the house during our arguments around politics. How hard could it be to him to throw Diogo out?
For that reason, I tried to be discreet so as to not arouse his anger but I promised myself never to let go of Diogo’s friendship again.
As I said, almost everything was perfect. “Almost” because we were missing Maria da Luz. One day, when I talked to Diogo about it and suggested that we would speak frankly to her, as I had done to him, he cautioned me: «That won’t be as easy as you think?» «Why not?» Diogo, who was feeding the horses, suspended his actions and looked at me. «Miss Maria da Luz is a good girl», he said. «She is kind hearted but she is emotionally more dependant on D. José than you are, Sir». «Don’t call me Sir. And I don’t see what that has to do with anything». «What I mean is Miss Luz doesn’t see our growing apart in the same light that you do. Like D. José, she thinks it was something natural, something that was meant to happen». «But don’t you think that if we talk to her, we can convince her that she is wrong?» «Maybe. But maybe it really is better to leave things as they are. D. José isn’t already too happy that his son is my friend. Imagine what would happen if he thought I meant any disrespect do his daughter». «There’s nothing disrespectful about friendship». «For you and me there isn’t. And possibly for Miss Maria da Luz there isn’t either. But for D. José...
Despite my friend’s cautious reserve, I managed to make him talk to Luz, although I had to resort to a little scheme. Diogo had already decided to leave things as they were, out of respect to my Father and because he assumed Luz wouldn’t be interested in reviving that feeling so beautiful that had united us as children. But I was determined to make everything go back to what it was before and so I was not about to easily give up.
One day, when my Father was out, I dragged Diogo to the living room, without telling him what for. Maria da Luz, who was practicing the piano there, stopped playing and looked at us from her stool. She seemed surprised to see us there and with a curious look and a little smile playing on her lips, she asked: «What are you two doing here?» «Diogo wants to talk to you». «Sir...», he protested. «Is something the matter?», my sister insisted. «Nothing is the matter, Miss Maria da Luz. It’s just that your brother has lost his mind...» And he was going to leave but I grabbed his arm. I was not about to let the matter at that. «All right», I said. «If you won’t talk, I will».
And looking into Luz’s eyes, hoping that the sincerity of my feeling would shatter any reserve, I asked: «Luz... Do you remember how we used to play when we were little?» «Yes...», she said, clearly not understanding what my point was. «They were fun times». «Exactly. And we want to revive those times!» «I don’t follow, Pedro». «Luz, perhaps you haven’t realised that yet but we started to forget our friendship as we grew up. With Diogo always busy, we never talk to him like before anymore and we treat him just like any other servant».
I paused to assess the effect my words were having on both Luz and on Diogo. My sister seemed too surprised to know what to say and Diogo probed her expression as attentively as myself. I felt my words were resonating with Maria da Luz and I tried using that. «And even between the two of us», I proceeded, trying to reach deeper into her soul, «who are brother and sister, that old camaraderie is gone». «But Pedro, you can’t just revive something like that». «Why not?» «Because it was a childhood friendship and it didn’t just die by accident, unlike what you might think. It died because it was meant to die. It was only right because we were children and it ended because it was right for it to end». «I don’t understand, Luz. If it was right then, why not now?» «At the time, we didn’t really have an identity yet. We were just three children. And now...»
Luz stopped talking, not sure how to finish the sentence. It was Diogo who finished it for her and although he had already foreseen that reaction, he was deeply hurt. «Now», he said, «you are the children of D. José Ávila and I’m the maid’s son, the stable boy». And after a brief pause: «Isn’t that it?» Luz was a little embarrassed but she admitted: «Well... Yes, that is it». «I can’t believe my ears!», I exclaimed. «It’s like I’m listening to D. José Ávila and all his moralism!» «Pedro, listen to me!» «Dad can really be proud of you!» «Sir», Diogo interrupted me, quite calm and apparently not offended by Maria da Luz’s rude remarks. «Let your sister speak».
Although that was not what I felt like doing, I stopped talking, willing to listen.
«Pedro, Father has always been good to us. He always tried to do what was best for us and if he says the difference between Diogo and us exists, what right do we have to doubt him? Why should I believe you’re the one who is right and he isn’t? I like Diogo but I can only like him as a faithful servant. That’s how our destines are. We were born with the name Ávila and we have to honour it. And sometimes that means making a few sacrifices. Diogo is of more modest birth. He is an honourable man and for that I respect and admire him but the camaraderie we had when we were children, as I said, had to die. I’m sure Diogo understands».
Maria da Luz looked at Diogo as if begging for him to support her and I thought he might do it, for considering his small involvement in our conversation I imagined that if he would intervene again it would be to defend her position, which he had already foreseen even before the conversation took place anyway. However, Diogo’s answer was: «In a way I do understand, Miss Maria da Luz. I understand that you don’t want to go against your Father’s wishes, I understand that you don’t want to hurt him. But D. José Ávila is D. José Ávila and Miss Maria da Luz is Miss Maria da Luz, two different people, and I don’t believe for a second that Miss Maria da Luz has obliterated herself so completely as a human being capable of having her own opinions as you would have us believe. I don’t believe that the part of Miss Maria da Luz that still thinks with her own mind and not with D. José’s feels things the way you just told us».
Maria da Luz opened and closed her lips several times, searching for arguments to object but she couldn’t find any. She looked dizzied by his words, as if she had been struck in the head. I myself was feeling kind of dizzy with all that speech. Diogo seemed to think it would be cruel to remain there waiting for Maria da Luz to find a reply, for he prepared to leave and said: «Miss Luz, whatever you decide to do with our friendship, I’ll understand. I think I’ll understand even if you chose to forget we were ever friends. But before doing that, think about what I told you».
And Diogo went outside again, followed by me. God, how I felt disappointed in my sister! How could she be so cold! Yes, D. José Ávila could be proud of his daughter! So we had been born Ávilas and because of that we were great, even if our souls were empty! There is nothing sadder than an empty soul... And Diogo, the person with the most generous heart I had ever met up until that moment – and certainly up until now – should be treated as an inferior only because he was of more modest birth!
Diogo must have noticed how furious I felt, for he smiled, put his hand on my shoulder and said: «I warned you. I knew Maria da Luz was going to react like that». «You know, in one of the arguments I had with my Father about Liberalism, he told me: “You’re young and you’ve been seduced by all those wrong ideas about freedom. You think it’s very well that the daughter of an aristocratic family should marry a peasant, but when you come to my age, you will have learned to value your class. You don’t understand that today everyone respects you just because you’re my son and tomorrow, if the liberals have their way, our name might not be worth anything”. I told him that the value of our name should not rest on our ancient fortune but on our work and dignity, and he said that if was willing to work, to go ahead and become a liberal. As if working was something dishonourable...»
And impetuously facing Diogo, I added: «And all that speech from Luz about birth and classes was exactly the same!» «No, it wasn’t exactly the same» «Oh, really? And what is the difference?» «Only one, Sir. D. José felt what he said and Miss Luz didn’t».
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