did not think I should be allowed to get away with it,' he said ruefully. 'Meet the real fazendeiro here, Abigail.'
On an elaborate perch in the corner was the biggest most brilliantly coloured parrot Abby had ever seen. As they approached it
squawked rowdily again, putting its head on one side and giving them an openly malevolent look.
'This is Don Afonso.' Vasco gently scratched the great bird's head with his forefinger. 'He has lived here for a long time, and
does not care to be ignored. Make his acquaintance slowly, and he will be your friend. Rush him, and you will probably be
bitten.'
Abby kept her hands at her sides, and inclined her head gravely.
' Bom dia , Don Afonso,' she said solemnly. She made a discovery. 'He isn't tethered!'
'I told you—this is his home.' Vasco smiled faintly. 'He was caught as a chick and tamed by some Indians. Later they made a gift
of him to my cousin, who discovered after a few weeks that each time someone called him by name, the macaw responded. He
had no choice but to christen the bird officially as his alter ego .' He paused. 'Now we had better go and greet our visitor.'
Abby allowed herself to be shepherded into the house. She found herself in a broad central hall with doors opening off both
sides. A large fan hummed in the ceiling, and she glanced at it in surprise.
Vasco nodded, as if she had spoken her query aloud. 'We make our own electricity.' He walked over to an imposing pair of
double doors and opened them. He said in English, 'Luisa—how kind of you to welcome us like this.'
The visitor laughed musically, getting out of her chair. 'But how could it be otherwise, my dear Vasco?' she responded in the
same heavily accented language. 'I could not control my impatience to meet your wife.'
If anything could have underlined for Abby that Riocho Negro was not the wilderness she had anticipated, it was the
appearance of the woman confronting her. She was of medium height, her slimness accentuated by the chic black dress she
wore, her glossy dark hair coiled expertly into an intricate chignon at the nape of her neck. The large shady hat discarded
beside her probably accounted for the exquisite creaminess of her skin, and the shape and brilliance of her almond eyes were
heavily accentuated by cosmetics. Curved scarlet lips were parted in a smile as she took Abby's hand.
'You will pardon the intrusion, Senhora da Carvalho,' she said. 'I am your nearest neighbour, Luisa Gonzaga. In a scattered
community like ours, it is wonderful for me to have another woman living so close. I wanted to be the first to say " Seja
bemvindo ". Welcome to Brazil.'
The words, the smile, the charm were stunning, and Abby felt herself dazedly returning the pressure of Senhora Gonzaga's
fingers, and murmuring something inadequate in response.
'You are a little overwhelmed, I dare say,' the Senhora went on. 'You speak our language, perhaps? No? Ah, that is a difficulty.
So much to learn, when there is already a different environment—so many new faces…'
'Abigail seems to take new faces in her stride,' Vasco interposed drily. 'She has already captured the servants' hearts by
knowing their names without prompting from me.'
'Ah!' The Senhora clapped her hands. 'But that is most clever!' She sounded radiant about it, and Abby had no idea what could
have given her the impression that her true feelings were totally different. Jet lag, she thought, giving her hallucinations.
There was something else in the beautiful face— a sudden curiosity, a sharpening of the eyes. 'You say your wife's name is
Abigail, my dear Vasco? But I thought—' She paused artistically. 'Ah, no, of course I am mistaken. It is my deplorable memory.'
Abby felt herself go hot and cold all over. It had been absurd to hope that no one would spot the discrepancy in the names, she
thought, not daring to look at Vasco.
Her husband said smoothly, 'I am not surprised you are confused, Luisa. It has all happened so
On an elaborate perch in the corner was the biggest most brilliantly coloured parrot Abby had ever seen. As they approached it
squawked rowdily again, putting its head on one side and giving them an openly malevolent look.
'This is Don Afonso.' Vasco gently scratched the great bird's head with his forefinger. 'He has lived here for a long time, and
does not care to be ignored. Make his acquaintance slowly, and he will be your friend. Rush him, and you will probably be
bitten.'
Abby kept her hands at her sides, and inclined her head gravely.
' Bom dia , Don Afonso,' she said solemnly. She made a discovery. 'He isn't tethered!'
'I told you—this is his home.' Vasco smiled faintly. 'He was caught as a chick and tamed by some Indians. Later they made a gift
of him to my cousin, who discovered after a few weeks that each time someone called him by name, the macaw responded. He
had no choice but to christen the bird officially as his alter ego .' He paused. 'Now we had better go and greet our visitor.'
Abby allowed herself to be shepherded into the house. She found herself in a broad central hall with doors opening off both
sides. A large fan hummed in the ceiling, and she glanced at it in surprise.
Vasco nodded, as if she had spoken her query aloud. 'We make our own electricity.' He walked over to an imposing pair of
double doors and opened them. He said in English, 'Luisa—how kind of you to welcome us like this.'
The visitor laughed musically, getting out of her chair. 'But how could it be otherwise, my dear Vasco?' she responded in the
same heavily accented language. 'I could not control my impatience to meet your wife.'
If anything could have underlined for Abby that Riocho Negro was not the wilderness she had anticipated, it was the
appearance of the woman confronting her. She was of medium height, her slimness accentuated by the chic black dress she
wore, her glossy dark hair coiled expertly into an intricate chignon at the nape of her neck. The large shady hat discarded
beside her probably accounted for the exquisite creaminess of her skin, and the shape and brilliance of her almond eyes were
heavily accentuated by cosmetics. Curved scarlet lips were parted in a smile as she took Abby's hand.
'You will pardon the intrusion, Senhora da Carvalho,' she said. 'I am your nearest neighbour, Luisa Gonzaga. In a scattered
community like ours, it is wonderful for me to have another woman living so close. I wanted to be the first to say " Seja
bemvindo ". Welcome to Brazil.'
The words, the smile, the charm were stunning, and Abby felt herself dazedly returning the pressure of Senhora Gonzaga's
fingers, and murmuring something inadequate in response.
'You are a little overwhelmed, I dare say,' the Senhora went on. 'You speak our language, perhaps? No? Ah, that is a difficulty.
So much to learn, when there is already a different environment—so many new faces…'
'Abigail seems to take new faces in her stride,' Vasco interposed drily. 'She has already captured the servants' hearts by
knowing their names without prompting from me.'
'Ah!' The Senhora clapped her hands. 'But that is most clever!' She sounded radiant about it, and Abby had no idea what could
have given her the impression that her true feelings were totally different. Jet lag, she thought, giving her hallucinations.
There was something else in the beautiful face— a sudden curiosity, a sharpening of the eyes. 'You say your wife's name is
Abigail, my dear Vasco? But I thought—' She paused artistically. 'Ah, no, of course I am mistaken. It is my deplorable memory.'
Abby felt herself go hot and cold all over. It had been absurd to hope that no one would spot the discrepancy in the names, she
thought, not daring to look at Vasco.
Her husband said smoothly, 'I am not surprised you are confused, Luisa. It has all happened so
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