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because of the
     depression that she committed suicide, and that’s what I want to know, if her wise
     counsellor was you. I’ve already told you, she’s the one you should ask, Tadeus
     said defensively, I don’t know, I swear, I don’t know anything. You
were
the wise counsellor, I said, I see that now. That has nothing to do with her death, said
     Tadeus, if you want to know why she killed herself, you have to ask her. Where can I find
     her?, I asked. I don’t know, he said, you choose a place, here or there, it makes no
     difference to her. In the Casa do Alentejo, I said, on Rua das Portas do Santo Antão,
     what do you think? Splendid, he said ironically, I’m sure it’s a place she would
     love to have visited, I doubt she’s ever set foot there before, but why not? Right, I
     said, at nine o’clock tonight, you can tell her I’ll be waiting for her at nine
     o’clock tonight at the Casa do Alentejo. Let’s have some coffee, said Tadeus, what
     I need is a coffee and a
grappa
. But Senhor Casimiro was already on his way with two
     coffees and a bottle of
grappa
, an old earthenware bottle. Senhor Casimiro, said
     Tadeus, put it all on my bill. Oh, no you don’t, I cried, lunch is on me. Senhor
     Casimiro pretended he hadn’t heard me and walked off. Don’t make a fuss, said
     Tadeus paternally, you haven’t got much money on you, you left Azeitão with
     hardly anything, you were sitting under a mulberry tree reading and you didn’t have much
     money in your wallet, I know all about it, you’ve got the whole day ahead of you in
     Lisbon and you need to hang on to your cash, look, don’t make a fuss. We got up and went
     over to the door. Senhor Casimiro and his wife leaned over the low kitchen door to say
     goodbye. Listen, Tadeus, I said, I need to lie down for an hour or two, I’m taking some
     pills that make me drowsy and this lunch you bought me is making me feel even drowsier, if I
     don’t sleep for an hour I’ll flake out on the floor. What are you taking?, he
     asked. It’s a French drug made from amineptine, I said, it calms you down in the morning
     and gives you a feeling of well-being, but later on it makes you sluggish. All those drugs for
     the soul are junk, said Tadeus, you heal the soul through the stomach. Maybe, I said,
     you’re lucky to be so certain about things, I’m not certain about anything. Why
     don’t you sleep at my house?, asked Tadeus, there’s a comfortable bed for you in
     the guestroom. Thanks, but I’d rather not, I replied, this is the last time I’ll
     see you, but look, I really don’t have much money, I can’t afford a hotel, I need
     a cheap boarding house, one of those places where you can rent a room for an hour or two, you
     must know of somewhere, perhaps you can help. That’s easy, he said, go to the
     Pensão Isadora, it’s immediately behind Praça da Ribeira, mention my name
     and ask for Isadora, she’ll give you a room, you can catch the tram that goes to Cais do
     Sodré, it should be here any minute.
    The tram stop was right opposite the restaurant and we waited behind the glass door out of
     the heat. We heard the tram coming as it rounded the bend, the noise of its wheels reaching us
     in the silence of the city. Now are you sure you don’t want to sleep at my house?,
     Tadeus asked again. I’m sure, I replied, goodbye Tadeus, rest in peace, I doubt
     we’ll ever see each other again. Just as well!, cried the parrot. I opened the door,
     crossed the road and boarded the tram.
     
----
    * Barcelos and Caldas are two towns in north and
     central Portugal respectively, both famous for their ceramics.
     
IV
    IT WAS AN OLD
     BUILDING, faded pink, with rickety wooden shutters. The guesthouse stood between a
     junk shop and a shipping company and on the glass door, which stood ajar, was written:
     Pensão Isadora. I pushed open the door and went in. Behind the counter, sitting in a
     wicker armchair, was a man, apparently asleep. He