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- Herausgeber: SAMPI Books
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Camilo, a young doctor who has recently graduated, returns to his hometown in Goiás to reunite with his family. There, he meets Isabel, a beautiful and enigmatic young woman, to whom he is attracted but who seems indifferent to him. However, the girl's cold demeanor hides a surprising secret, which is revealed as the story unfolds. The tale combines mystery, irony and social criticism, exploring themes such as fate and the illusions of love.
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Seitenzahl: 71
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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SYNOPSIS
Camilo, a young doctor who has recently graduated, returns to his hometown in Goiás to reunite with his family. There, he meets Isabel, a beautiful and enigmatic young woman, to whom he is attracted but who seems indifferent to him. However, the girl's cold demeanor hides a surprising secret, which is revealed as the story unfolds. The tale combines mystery, irony and social criticism, exploring themes such as fate and the illusions of love.
Keywords
Unrequited love, Secret, Disillusionment
NOTICE
This text is a work in the public domain and reflects the norms, values and perspectives of its time. Some readers may find parts of this content offensive or disturbing, given the evolution in social norms and in our collective understanding of issues of equality, human rights and mutual respect. We ask readers to approach this material with an understanding of the historical era in which it was written, recognizing that it may contain language, ideas or descriptions that are incompatible with today's ethical and moral standards.
Names from foreign languages will be preserved in their original form, with no translation.
I:BACK TO BRAZIL
About sixteen years ago, Mr. Camilo Seabra, a native of Goiás, arrived in Rio de Janeiro from Europe to study medicine and now returned with his diploma in his pocket and some longing in his heart. He was returning after an absence of eight years, having seen and admired the main things that a man can see and admire there, when he doesn't lack taste or means. He had both, and if he'd had a little more sense, not a lot, he would have enjoyed himself better than he had, and he could justly say that he had lived.
His patriotic feelings were not helped by the face with which he entered the harbor of the Brazilian capital. It was closed and meretricious, like someone stifling something that isn't exactly earthly bliss. He dragged a bored look across the city, which was unfolding as the ship headed towards the anchorage. When the time came to disembark, he did so with the same joy with which the defendant crosses the threshold of the prison. The scaler pulled away from the ship, on whose mast floated a tricolor flag; Camilo muttered to himself:
“Goodbye, France!”
Then he was enveloped in a magnificent silence and let himself be carried ashore.
The spectacle of the city, which he hadn't seen for so long, had always held his attention. However, he didn't have the excitement of Ulysses when he saw the land of his homeland. Rather, it was astonishment and boredom. He compared what he saw now with what he had seen for many years, and he felt the painful longing that undermined his heart squeeze more and more. He went to the first hotel that seemed convenient and decided to spend a few days there before heading to Goiás. He dined alone and sad, his mind full of a thousand memories of the world he had just left, and to give his memory an even greater boost, when dinner was over, he stretched out on a canapé and began to unravel a rosary of cruel misfortunes.
In his opinion, no mortal had ever experienced the hostility of fate more painfully. Neither in the Christian Martyrology, nor in the Greek Tragics, nor in the Book of Job was there even a pale outline of his misfortunes. Let's take a look at some of the pathetic features of our hero's existence.
He was born rich, the son of a landowner from Goiás, who had never seen any other land than his native province. In 1828, a French naturalist was there, with whom Commander Seabra had relations, and with whom he became such good friends that he didn't want another godfather for his only son, who was a year old at the time. Long before he was a naturalist, he had committed some poetic venialities that earned him some praise in 1810, but which time - the old moth of eternity - took with it to the infinite repository of useless things. The former poet had forgiven him everything, except for forgetting a poem in which he had metrified the life of Fúrio Camilo, a poem that he still read with sincere enthusiasm. As a reminder of this youthful work, he called his godson Camilo, and Father Maciel baptized him with this name, to the great delight of his family and friends.
"Compadre," said the Commander to the naturalist, "if this little one succeeds, I'll send him to your country to learn medicine or anything else that will make him a man. If he finds a way to work with plants and minerals, like you, don't be shy; give him the fate that seems to you as if you were his father, which you are, spiritually speaking."
"Who knows if I'll live that long?" said the naturalist.
"Oh, you will!" protested Seabra. "That body doesn't deceive; it's iron hard. Don't I see you walking through these woods and fields every day, indifferent to suns and rains, without ever having the slightest headache? I'd be dead after half your work. You'll have to live with and look after my boy once he's finished his first studies here."
Seabra's promise was fulfilled on time. Camilo left for Paris after some preparatory work, and there his godfather took care of him as if he had really been his father. The commander spared no expense to ensure that his son lacked nothing; the allowance he sent him could well be used for two or three people in the same circumstances. In addition to his pocket money, at Easter and Christmas he received almonds and treats sent to him by his mother, which he received in the form of a few thousand francs.
Up until this point, the only black spot in Camilo's existence was his godfather, who kept him restrained in fear that the boy would lose his way on the precipices of the big city. However, his good star wanted the former poet of 1810 to rest in nothingness next to his extinct productions, leaving some traces of his time in science. Camilo hastened to write his father a letter full of philosophical reflections.
The final sentence read as follows:
In short, my father, if it seems to you that I have the necessary judgment to complete my studies here, and if you have confidence in the good inspiration that the soul of the one who left this vale of tears to enjoy infinite bliss will give me, let me stay here until I can return to my country as an enlightened citizen and fit to serve it, as is my duty.If your will is contrary to what I'm asking you, tell me frankly, my father, because then I won't stay a moment longer in this land, which was once half a homeland to me, and which today (hélas!) is just a land of exile.
The good old man was not a man who could see between the lines of this tearful epistle the true feeling that had dictated it. He wept with joy when he read his son's words, showed the letter to all his friends, and hastened to reply to the boy that he could stay in Paris as long as necessary to complete his studies, and that, apart from the allowance he gave him, he would never refuse anything that was indispensable to him in unforeseen circumstances. She also wholeheartedly approved of the sentiments he expressed towards his homeland and the memory of his godfather. He passed on many recommendations from Uncle Jorge, Father Maciel, Colonel Veiga, all his relatives and friends, and concluded by giving him his blessing.
His father's reply arrived in Camilo's hands in the middle of a lunch he was giving at the Café de Madrid to two or three first-rate spendthrifts. He was expecting just that, but he couldn't resist the urge to drink to his father's health, an act in which he was accompanied by his elegant kite friends. That same day, Camilo planned some unforeseen circumstances (for the Commander) and the next post brought a long letter to Brazil in which he thanked his father for his good wishes, told him how much he missed him, confided in him his hopes, and respectfully asked him, in post scriptum, to send him a small sum of money.
Thanks to these facilities, our Camilo threw himself into a loose and expensive life, but not so much that he sacrificed his studies. The intelligence he possessed, and a certain self-respect that he had not lost, helped him a lot in this endeavor; he finished his studies, passed his exams and was awarded a doctorate.
