The corridor seems far shorter, it was behind that door that he spent the night gazing at a school exercise book, a particularly hard lesson, my name is João Mau-Tempo, and now, while the guard is knocking at the next door and waiting for the order to enter, it must be Faustina, or else they’re just saying that to get my hopes up, when in fact they’re going to question me again, perhaps beat me, what did that policeman mean when he said that if we didn’t talk, the same thing would happen to us as happened to the other man, what other man. Thoughts move quickly, which is why João Mau-Tempo had time to think all this while he was waiting, but when the door opened, his brain emptied of ideas, as if his head were filled with the blackness of night, and then he felt a great sense of relief, because standing between the agent and the lieutenant was Father Agamedes, they wouldn’t beat me up in front of a priest, but what’s he doing here.
This is how it will be in heaven, with me in the middle as befits the spiritual obligation that has been mine ever since I have known myself and you have known me, with you, Lieutenant, at my right hand as protector of the law and those who make the law, and you, Senhor Agent, on my left hand as the man who does the dirty work, about which I would really rather not know. The door to this house of discipline opens, and what do I see, O my poor eyes, better to have been born blind than to see this, tell me you’re deceiving me, can this be João Mau-Tempo from Monte Lavre, the home of my somewhat troublesome flock, you must be mad, according to the lieutenant and the policeman, or the policeman and the lieutenant, you have refused to tell them all that you know, well, it would be best if you did, for your own sake and that of your family, they are not to blame for the mistakes and follies of their father, you should be ashamed of yourself, João Mau-Tempo, a grown man, a respectable man caught up in such foolishness, this so-called insurrection, how often have I told you and the other men at the church, Beloved brethren, the road you are taking will lead you only to perdition and to hell, where there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth, I have told you that so often, I’ve grown weary of repeating it, but what good did it do, João Mau-Tempo, it’s not that I don’t care about the others, I don’t know them, but the policeman and the lieutenant told me that of the men from Monte Lavre, you were the one they asked to write in that exercise book, but you wrote nothing, you refused to help, as if you were mocking them, mocking these poor, patient gentlemen, who spent a sleepless night, because they have families too, you know, sitting at home waiting for them, and because of you, they had to say to them, I won’t be home until late or I have to work tonight, don’t wait up for me, have your supper and go to bed, I won’t be home until morning, or not even then, because it’s almost lunchtime now, and the lieutenant and the policeman are both still here, I just can’t believe it, João Mau-Tempo, you clearly have no consideration for the authorities at all, if you did, you wouldn’t behave like this, what would it cost you to tell them who organized the strike and who distributed the leaflets, where they come from and how many there are, what would it cost you, you wretched man, what could be simpler than to give them the names, the policeman here and the lieutenant would do the rest, you could then go home to your family, what could be nicer, a man in the bosom of his family, tell me, although, obviously, as a priest, I can’t reveal the secrets of the confessional, but was it So-and-so and Whatsisname, was it, tell me, a nod will do if you prefer not to speak, only we four will ever know, was it them or wasn’t it, that’s what I’ve heard, but I can’t be sure and I’m not saying it was them, I’m simply asking, really, João Mau-Tempo, I find your attitude most disappointing, aren’t you ashamed to make your family suffer like this, speak, man.
Speak, man, there’s no one else here, just me, Father Agamedes, the lieutenant, the policeman and you, there are no other witnesses, why can’t you tell us what you know, which probably isn’t much, but each man does what he can, you can’t do more than that, Look, Father Agamedes, I don’t know anything, I can’t repent of something I didn’t do, I would give anything to be back with my wife and my daughters, but I can’t give you what you’re asking me, I can’t say anything because I don’t know anything, and even if I did, I’m not sure I would tell you, Now you’ve shown your true colors, you bastard, shouts the policeman, Stop, says Father Agamedes, as I never tire of saying, they’re nothing but poor brutes,
