Now Dona Crist had come to the Zenador's Station to talk to Pipo about Novinha. Why Pipo? He could guess only one reason for the principal of the school to come to him about this particular orphaned girl. «Am I to believe that in all the years you've had Novinha in your school, I'm the only person who asked about her?»

“Not the only person,” she said. “There was all kinds of interest in her a couple of years ago, when the Pope beatified her parents. Everybody asked then whether the daughter of Gusto and Cida, Os Venerados, had ever noticed any miraculous events associated with her parents, as so many other people had.”

“They actually asked her that?”

"There were rumors, and Bishop Peregrino had to investigate." Dona Crist got a bit tight-lipped when she spoke of the young spiritual leader of Lusitania Colony. But then, it was said that the hierarchy never got along well with the order of the Filhos da Mente de Cristo. "Her answer was instructive. "

“I can imagine.”

“She said, more or less, that if her parents were actually listening to prayers and had any influence in heaven to get them granted, then why wouldn't they have answered her prayer, for them to return from the grave? That would be a useful miracle, she said, and there are precedents. If Os Venerados actually had the power to grant miracles, then it must mean they did not love her enough to answer her prayer. She preferred to believe that her parents still loved her, and simply did not have the power to act.”

“A born sophist,” said Pipo.

“A sophist and an expert in guilt: she told the Bishop that if the Pope declared her parents to be venerable, it would be the same as the Church saying that her parents hated her. The Petition for canonization of her parents was proof that Lusitania despised her; if it was granted, it would be proof that the Church itself was despicable. Bishop Peregrino was livid.”

“I notice he sent in the petition anyway.”

“For the good of the community. And there were all those miracles.”

“Someone touches the shrine and a headache goes away and they cry 'Milagre!– os santos me abenqoaram!'” Miracle!– the saints have blessed me!

“You know that Holy Rome requires more substantial miracles than that. But it doesn't matter. The Pope graciously allowed us to call our little town Milagre, and now I imagine that every time someone says that name, Novinha burns a little hotter with her secret rage.”

“Or colder. One never knows what temperature that sort of thing will take.”

“Anyway, Pipo, you aren't the only one who ever asked about her. But you're the only one who ever asked about her for her own sake, and not because of her most Holy and Blessed parents.”

It was a sad thought, that except for the Filhos, who ran the schools of Lusitania, there had been no concern for the girl except the slender shards of attention Pipo had spared for her over the years.

“She has one friend,” said Libo.

Pipo had forgotten that his son was there– Libo was so quiet that he was easy to overlook. Dona Crist also seemed startled. «Libo,» she said, «I think we were indiscreet, talking about one of your schoolmates like this.»

“I'm apprentice Zenador now,” Libo reminded her. It meant he wasn't in school.

“Who is her friend?” asked Pipo.

«Marc o.»

«Marcos Ribeira,» Dona Crist explained. «The tall boy–»

“Ah, yes, the one who's built like a cabra.”

«He is strong,» said Dona Crist . «But I've never noticed any friendship between them.»

«Once when Marc o was accused of something, and she happened to see it, she spoke for him.»

«You put a generous interpretation on it, Libo,» said Dona Crist . «I think it is more accurate to say she spoke against the boys who actually did it and were trying to put the blame on him.»

“Marcdo doesn't see it that way,” said Libo. “I noticed a couple of times, the way he watches her. It isn't much, but there is somebody who likes her.”

“Do you like her?” asked Pipo.

Libo paused for a moment in silence. Pipo knew what it meant. He was examining himself to find an answer. Not the answer that he thought would be most likely to bring him adult favor, and not the answer that would provoke their ire– the two kinds of deception that most children his age delighted in. He was examining himself to discover the truth.

“I think,” Libo said, “that I understood that she didn't want to be liked. As if she were a visitor who expected to go back home any day.”

Dona Crist nodded gravely. «Yes, that's exactly right, that's exactly the way she seems. But now, Libo, we must end our indiscretion by asking you to leave us while we–»

He was gone before she finished her sentence, with a quick nod of his head, a half-smile that said, Yes, I understand, and a deftness of movement that made his exit more eloquent proof of his discretion than if he had argued to stay. By this Pipo knew that Libo was annoyed at being asked to leave; he had a knack for making adults feel vaguely immature by comparison to him.

“Pipo,” said the principal, “she has petitioned for an early examination as xenobiologist. To take her parents' place.”

Pipo raised an eyebrow.

“She claims that she has been studying the field intensely since she was a little child. That she's ready to begin the work right now, without apprenticeship.”

“She's thirteen, isn't she?”

“There are precedents. Many have taken such tests early. One even passed it younger than her. It was two thousand years ago, but it was allowed. Bishop Peregrino is against it, Of course, but Mayor Bosquinha, bless her practical heart, has pointed out that Lusitania needs a xenobiologist quite badly– we need to be about the business of developing new strains of plant life so we can get some decent variety in our diet and much better harvests from Lusitanian soil. In her words, 'I don't care if it's an infant, we need a xenobiologist.'”

“And you want me to supervise her examination?”

“If you would be so kind.”

“I'll be glad to.”

“I told them you would.”

“I confess I have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh?”

“I should have done more for the girl. I'd like to see if it isn't too late to begin.”

Dona Crist laughed a bit. «Oh, Pipo, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice.»

“I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.”

«Such a poet,» said Dona Crist . There was no irony in her voice; she meant it. «Do the piggies understand that we've sent our very best as our ambassador?»

“I try to tell them, but they're skeptical.”

"I'll send her to you tomorrow. I warn you– she'll expect to take the examinations cold, and she'll resist any attempt on your part to pre-examine her. "

Pipo smiled. “I'm far more worried about what will happen after she takes the test. If she fails, then she'll have very bad problems. And if she passes, then my problems will begin.”

“Why?”

“Libo will be after me to let him examine early for Zenador. And if he did that, there'd be no reason for me not to go home, curl up, and die.”

"Such a romantic fool you are, Pipo. If there's any man in Milagre who's capable of accepting his thirteen-year-old son as a colleague, it's you. "

After she left, Pipo and Libo worked together, as usual, recording the day's events with the pequeninos. Pipo compared Libo's work, his way of thinking, his insights, his attitudes, with those of the graduate students he had known in University before joining the Lusitania Colony. He might be small, and there might be a lot of theory and knowledge for him yet to learn, but he was already a true scientist in his method, and a humanist at heart. By the time the evening's work was done and they walked home together by the light of Lusitania's large and dazzling moon, Pipo had decided that Libo already deserved to be treated as a colleague, whether he took the examination or not. The tests couldn't measure the things that really counted, anyway.