He didn’t go to bed, he went out, he wrote. At the end of a week he had the notary sent for.

“The notary?” his friend repeated.

“Yes, I want to draw up my will. Or we can 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

 

Hours 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 his corner. 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.