Read Online Skylight by José Saramago - Free Book Online Page A

opposite. Finally the bell rang. Mariana paused in the middle of a particularly painful dissonance. Silvestre’s heart beat faster and, half joking to himself, he decided that it was mere presumption on his part to think that the man had come for reasons unconnected with the room, reasons to do with remote events during the time when . . . The floor trembled beneath Mariana’s approaching bulk. Silvestre drew back the curtain:
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThere’s a man come about the room. Can you deal with him?”
    What Silvestre felt was not relief exactly. His faint sigh was filled with sadness, as if an illusion, his very last, had just died, for it clearly
had
been presumption on his part, and as he made his way to the front door, the thought going around in his mind was that he was an old man now and over the hill. His wife had already told the potential lodger how much the rent would be, but when he’d asked to see the room, she had summoned Silvestre. When the young man saw Silvestre, he smiled, but only with his eyes. He had small, bright, very dark eyes beneath thick, clearly delineated eyebrows. He was, as Silvestre had already noted, dark-complexioned, with clear features, neither gentle nor severe, and a masculine face, slightly softened by a curved, somewhat feminine mouth. Silvestre liked the face.
    â€œSo you want to see the room, do you?”
    â€œIf that’s all right. The price suits me fine, but I just need to know if the room does too.”
    â€œCome in.”
    The boy (or so he seemed to Silvestre) stepped confidently into the apartment. He glanced around at the walls and floor, alarming the estimable Mariana, ever fearful that someone might find fault with her cleaning. The room looked out onto the small garden where Silvestre, in his scarce free time, grew a few equally scarce cabbages and kept a few chickens. The young man looked around him, then turned to Silvestre:
    â€œI really like the room, but I can’t take it!”
    Slightly annoyed, Silvestre asked:
    â€œWhy not? Is it too expensive?”
    â€œNo, as I said, the price is fine, but it’s not furnished.”
    â€œOh, you want it furnished.”
    Silvestre glanced at his wife. She nodded and Silvestre added:
    â€œThat’s easy enough to put right. We had a bed in here and a chest of drawers, but we took them out thinking we’d rent the room unfurnished, you see. You never know how other people are going to treat your things. But if you’re interested . . .”
    â€œAnd the price would be the same?”
    Silvestre scratched his head.
    â€œI wouldn’t want to shortchange you,” said the young man.
    This remark immediately won Silvestre over. Anyone who knew him well would have used exactly those words in order to ensure that the rent for the room remained the same, furnished or unfurnished.
    â€œYes, furnished or unfurnished, what’s the difference?” he said. “In fact, it suits us better that way. We don’t have to be so cluttered up with furniture, then. Isn’t that right, Mariana?”
    If Mariana had given voice to her thoughts, she would have said “No, it’s not,” but instead she said nothing, shrugged in an offhand manner and wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. The young man noticed and added:
    â€œNo, no, I’ll give you another fifty escudos. Would that be acceptable?”
    Mariana was thrilled and decided that she liked the young man after all. Silvestre, for his part, was jumping for joy inside, not because they had reached a satisfactory agreement, but because he could see that he had been quite right about the young man. Their new guest was a thoroughly decent fellow. The young man went over to the window, studied the garden, smiled at the chicks scratching about in the earth and said:
    â€œI’m so sorry, you don’t know who I am. My name’s Abel . . . Abel Nogueira. You can get