I straightened a blanket thrown over the chest at the end of his bed, and then, on a whim, knelt in front of the chest and opened it. Under a folded pair of old breeches was a worn leather bag with a torn strap. I took it out and looked inside. There was a long black buttoned robe of coarse cotton, as well as a black cincture. I sat back on my heels. Bonifacio’s Jesuit vestments. I imagined him wearing these in Brazil. At the bottom of the bag something glinted. I pulled it out. On a long strip of leather was a heavy pendant with a cross, and on the cross the sign of the Jesuit. As I put it back into the chest, I saw a small cloth sack almost hidden in one corner. I lifted it, then opened the drawstring and gazed in. I dumped the coins onto my skirt and counted them. One hundred and seventy-six réis. I sat back on my heels. If Abílio had been correct about the cost of a passage to Brazil, this was enough. I counted the coins again, then put them back into the cloth bag and bounced it on my palm with a sudden lifting joy.
What do You think about The Devil On Her Tongue (2014)?
