Eccentricities of a Blonde Haired Girl (Singularidades de uma Rapariga Loura)

ECCENTRICITIES OF A BLONDE-HAIRED GIRL

A tribute to the family of Eça de Queiroz,

the author of this story

What you would not tell your wife, what you would not tell your friend...

... tell it to a stranger.

Madam...

I... I'm going... I'm going...

- Where are you going? - I'm sorry, madam...

I spoke to you without introducing myself first.

That doesn't matter at all.

In fact, it's very nice to have someone

to talk to on such a long journey.

- I suppose you're going to the Algarve? - Yes, I am also going...

But I am going there in a desperate state, madam.

In fact, it was my uncle who sent me on this short holiday to the Algarve...

Because of the great shock I suffered.

- And who is your uncle? - My uncle is called Francisco

and he manages an office in Lisbon,

above the store where I work.

You can't imagine what happened to me...

How can I imagine what happened to someone I don't know?

With your permission, I'll tell you everything.

- Tell me! I'm very curious to hear it. - I really need to get it off my chest.

So tell me about it. Talk as much as you like.

When I walked into that office for the first time and looked outside...

What do I see?

That lady must have been captivating at the age of twenty, full of verve.

An active temperament with a passionate imagination.

She had a very noble profile. Like that of a medal... .

What romantic poets would have called...

a dove of ermine, snow and gold.

It's the daughter.

Yes, I wondered if she was the daughter of the other lady.

She waved her fan so gracefully that you cannot even begin to imagine it.

And you fell in love with her, didn't you?

That...

That was my great misfortune.

Those curtains probably dated from the time of Goethe.

They would have played an interesting role in romances:

Pinning a flower to them,

shaking them to feel a face.

These are ancient ways in which romance begins in art and reality.

I see you are very bitter, my dear sir.

I am.

But what a fan...

I have never seen another one like it.

Yes. It must really be a beautiful fan.

Yes. A beautiful fan.

But you weren't seduced by the fan.

You know...

You're arousing my curiosity.

So tell me, what happened after that?

Two weeks later...

Luisa, look at this cashmere. It's very beautiful.

How much does it cost per metre, please?

It's strange to find you here.

An accountant wanting to look after sales at the counter.

I came to see...

I came to see if they were being served well.

That is none of your concern.

These meatballs are wonderful.

Listen... Do you habitually allow poor people into the store?

One hundred and fifty euros worth of handkerchiefs are missing.

- Enter it to my account, please. - Yes, uncle.

- I finally found you, my dear friend. - How are you?

To get straight to the point:

Who is that woman you greeted today in front of the store?

- It's Mrs. Vilaca. A beautiful woman. - Is that her daughter?

- Her daughter? - Yes.

- A fair blonde with a Chinese fan. - Ah, yes. She's the daughter.

That's what I thought...

Yes and so?

- She's pretty. - She's pretty.

- They're fine people, huh? - Yes. Fine people.

All right.

- Do you know them very well? - Not very well.

We used to meet at Madame Claudia's house.

Why do you ask? Do you want to be introduced to them?

See if you can find a way to introduce me.

Every Saturday, they usually visit a retired and very wealthy notary.

He lives in the Rua dos Calafates. Perhaps something could be arranged.

But I'm surprised to see you here. Are you a member as well?

No. But this gentleman accompanied me to find you.

Then you must see something of the Literary Circle.

This is Francisco Santos.

He knows everything about the Circle far better than anyone else.

- Would you mind? - Not at all sir, it would be a pleasure.

This here is a bust of the founder of the Eça de Queiroz Literary Circle,

Mr. Antcnio Ferro, who was appointed by Salazar as Minister for Information

and who was the founder of the NSI, the National Secretariat for Information.

Here, those diverse figures represent

various characters from the novels of

Eça de Queiroz.

This notary is a very cultured man, a Latin scholar and a patron of museums.

He used to write for the Jornal de Letras

and since he was so gallant he called himself "Venus' Young Squire".

Look at that, "Venus' Young Squire" in these modern and turbulent times!

- Is he really very wealthy? - Yes he is.

And what do you think of the current economic situation?

What do I think? I can tell you that I'm poor.

Like the banks today.

Let's go.

Miss.

- Miss? - Yes, miss...

Because you are so young and like a breath of fresh air.

Did you like the cashmeres the other day?

Very much.

I'd have come closer and stayed longer by your side, but my uncle came and...

- And who is your uncle? - He's the store's owner,

where I saw you looking at the cashmeres.

- So you are the man on the veranda? - Exactly.

I was admiring you.

Your fan is delightful.

It was a gift from an aunt who travels a lot.

It's charming, but it's no match for...

Can I call you Miss?

So you liked the cashmeres the other day?

Very much.

But what a beautiful fan!

I have never seen another like it.

We have just heard a magnificent piece by Debussy,

superbly played on the harp

by the talented Ana Paula Miranda.

Now it is my pleasure

to present our beloved Luis Miguel Cintra,

who will recite part of a poem

by one of Fernando Pessoa's heteronyms, Alberto Caeiro.

Here is the wonderful Luis Miguel Cintra.

"The Keeper of Sheep. Canto 32

Yesterday afternoon a city was talking at the inn's doorway.

He was also talking to me.

He spoke of justice and of the struggle forjustice.

And of workers who suffer, and of constant labour,

and of those who go hungry, and of the wealthy who turn a blind eye to it.

And, looking at me, he saw tears in my eyes,

and he smiled, contentedly, thinking I was feeling the hate he was feeling,

and the compassion he claimed to be feeling.

But I was barely listening.

What do I care for men, for what they suffer or think they suffer?

Let them be like me... and they won't suffer.

All the woes of the world stem from our caring about each other.

To do good as to do evil,

all we need is our soul and heaven and earth.

Wanting more is to lose all this, it is to be unhappy.

And I thought to myself, while the man of the people was speaking

.

It was like a distant whisper of bells in that late afternoon...

Yet perhaps not the bells of a tiny chapel...

where to mass might go flowers and streams and simple souls like mine.

Praise God that I am not good

and that I have the natural egotism of the flowers

and rivers which blithely continue on their way

with no cares other

than to bloom and to flow.

That is the only mission in the World.

Which is

to exist clearly.

And to know how to do so without thinking about it .

And the man had stopped talking and was looking at the sunset.

But what does someone who hates and loves have to do with the sunset?"

Canto 33

"The poor flowers arranged so neatly in the flowerbeds of landscaped gardens

seem to be afraid of the police!

But they are so good that they bloom nevertheless

and they have the same ancient smile

that they had when early man first gazed upon them,

who saw them appear and touched them lightly

to see whether they would speak..."

- I didn't hear it clink on the floor. - Neither did I.

- Nor I. - There are no holes in the floor.

"Oh Richard, oh my king, the world has abandoned you."

Beautiful girls, beautiful lasses.

"Oh Richard, oh my king, the world has abandoned you."

Kings! Vipers!

Dear Gaudêncio, you always were a democrat

and a great admirer of Robespierre.

I hope that you will honour this humble cottage, neighbour.

Cottage! You mean castle, my beautiful lady.

You are always so kind, sir.

I'm so sorry about the poker chip on the night that we met at the notary's house.

- That now, is a grand house! - Yes...

It is also a beautiful house.

Madame Vilaca, I didn't even remember that poker chip.

I would like to ask your permission to get married.

I would like to ask your permission to get married.

No.

I beg your pardon, Uncle Francisco?

- No. - But listen, Uncle Francisco...

- No! - I'll get married anyway!

- I'll throw you out! - I'll leave. Don't doubt it.

- Today. - Today.

Stop right there!

Pass me the box of cigars.

- Uncle Francisco... - Enough.

Today's the 12th. You'll get your salary for the whole month.

Now go.

I would love to help, my friend.

I wish I could have you here,

but it would affect my twenty-year old friendship with your uncle.

He told me so in no uncertain terms. So you see...