He said nothing, but his eyes reflected his indignation and horror.
He just mumbled, “If it hurts, don’t get in the water.”
“It doesn’t hurt any more.” We ate eggs, bananas, salami, bread and candied guava, which only I liked.
We went to drink water from the river and then returned to the shade of Queen Carlota.
He was about to sit down, but I made a sign for him to stop.
I placed a hand on my chest and addressed the tree.
“Your Majesty, your subject, Sir Manuel Valadares, and the greatest warrior of the Apinajé Nation...
We are going to sit at Your Majesty’s feet.” We laughed and sat.
The Portuguese lay down on the ground, covered a root of the tree with his waistcoat and said, “Now it’s time for a nap.”
“But I’m not tired.” “It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you run loose, mischievous thing that you are.”
He placed his hand on my chest and trapped me. We lay there a long while, watching the clouds slip through the branches of the tree.
The moment had arrived. If I didn’t say it now, I never would.
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