Old Lima

Artur Azevedo
From: Contos Fora de Moda
To Fricinal Vassico
Translation by Herculano de Lima Einloft Neto

Old Lima, who was an employee -- old employee -- at one of our public partitions, and resided at Engenho de Dentro, fell to bed, seriously ill, on the day 14 of november of 1889, that is, on the eve of the proclamation of the Republic of the United States of Brazil.

The sick man did not consider the illness as a thing of care, and so much thus it was that he didn't want no doctor: it sufficed him some home remedies, caringly administrated by a glossy[1] mulatta which since twenty-five years treated him with equal solicitude of love and of kitchen. However, old Lima was homesick for eight days.

Our man had the habit of not reading newspapers, and, as at home nothing was told to him (because nothing they knew), he ignored completely that the Empire had transformed into a Republic.

On day 23, reestablished and ready for another one he bought a ticket, following his custom, and took a place on the train, next to commendatary Vidal, who received him with these words:

-- Good morning, citizen.

Old Lima estranged the ''citizen'', but from him to himself thought that the commendatary had said that as he could have said ''illustrious'', and gave no major importance to the compliment, limiting himself to answer!

-- Good morning, commendatary.
-- Which commendatary! Call me Vidal! There are no commendataries already!
-- Now this one! Then why?
-- The Republic gave closure to all the commends! They're over!...

Old Lima faced the commendatary, and silenced, fearing not having understood the joke.

Some minutes later, asked him the other one:

-- How are you going with Aristides?
-- Which Aristides?
-- The Silveira Lobo.
-- Me?... where?... how?...
-- What the hell! but isn't Aristides your minister? Are you not employee at a partition of the Ministry of the Interior?

This time there was not inside old Lima's spirit the least doubt that the commendatary had gone insane.

-- What will be doing at these hours Pedro II? asked Vidal, some moments later. Sonnets, naturally, which is of what more occupies himself that type!
-- Now look, reflected old Lima, now look what it is to lose reason: this man when he was in his judgement was so monarchist, so friend to the emperor.

However, old Lima indignated himself, seeing that the subdelegate of his parish, seated at the train, facing him, approved with a smile the commendatary's perfidy.

-- A police authority! murmured old Lima.

And the commendatary added:

-- I just want to see how the Brazilian minister receives Pedro II in Lisbon; he shall get there at the start of the month.

Old Lima was moved:

-- Doesn't say thing with thing, poor one!
-- And the flag? What do you say of the flag?
-- Ah, yes... the flag... yes... repeated old Lima not to contradict him.
-- How do you prefer it: with or without lemma?
-- Without lemma, answered the good man in a tone of profound grief; without lemma.
-- The same as I; I don't know what it means, a flag with a writing.

As the train took a little longer at one of the stations, old Lima turned to the subdelegate, and told him:

-- It seems we're going to stay here! it's getting worse, the service of Pedro II!
-- Which Pedro II! shouted the commendatary. This is no longer of Pedro II! Let him content himself with the five thousand contos!
-- And let him go to the house of the devil! added the subdelegate.

Old Lima was astonished. Took the resolution of silencing.

Arriving at the Acclamation square, he got in a street-car and went to his secretariate without noticing anything nor hearing anything that could put him in the knowing of what had passed.

He noticed, however, that a vandal was very busy tearing off the imperial crowns which adorned the grating of the Acclamation square...

Entering the secretariate, a black and poorly dressed servent did not compliment him with the usual humbleness; limited himself to say:

-- Citizen!
-- They're on today to calling me citizen! thought old Lima.

Going up, he crossed at the stairs with an acquaintance of old date.

-- Oh! you around here! A revolutionary in an Estate partition!...

The friend complimented him cerimoniously.

-- They want to see he's already someone! reflected old Lima.
-- Tomorrow I leave for Paraiba, said the cerimonious subject, extending to him the tips of the fingers; as you know, I'll exercise the charge of chief of police. There I am at your disposal.

And left.

-- I soon saw! But what a shameless one[2]! A most exalted republican!...

Entering his section, old Lima noticed that the portieres had disappeared.

-- Very well! he said to himself; it was a good measure to suppress such heavy portieres, now that we're going to enter the calmous season.

He sat down, and saw that they had taken from the wall an old lithograph representing D. Pedro of Alcântara. As at the occasion an office boy passed by, he asked him:

-- Why did they take from the wall the portrait of his majesty?

The office boy answered in a slowly disdainful tone:

-- Well, citizen, what was it doing there the figure of Pedro Banana?
-- Pedro Banana! repeated, angry, old Lima.

And, sitting down, he thought with sadness:

-- I don't give it three years for this to be a republic.

Notes:

[1] nédia, sleek, glossy, plump.
[2] descarado, faceless one.