All The Names - Jose Saramago

profession, the head teacher would be the first to arrive, then the Registrar, and both would look at him
with harsh, condemnatory eyes, What are you doing here, they would ask, and he would have no voice to
reply with, he couldn't explain to them that he was looking for an unknown woman, they would probably
all just burst out laughing, and then ask again, What are you doing here, and they would keep asking until
he confessed everything, the proof of this was that they were still repeating it in his dreams when, as
morning was returning to the world, Senhor José finally managed to abandon his exhausting vigil, or it
abandoned him.
He woke up late, dreaming that he was back on the porch roof with the rain pounding down on him as
loudly as a waterfall, and the unknown woman, in the shape of a film actress from his collection, was
sitting on the window ledge with the head teacher's blanket folded in her lap, waiting for him to complete
his climb, at the same time saying to him, Wouldn't it have been better to have knocked at the front door, to
which he, panting, replied, I didn't know you were here, and she, I'm always here, I never go out, then, just
as it seemed she was about to bend towards him in order to help him up, she suddenly disappeared, the
porch disappeared with her, and only the rain remained, falling, falling without cease upon the chair
belonging to the Registrar, where Senhor José saw himself sitting. His head ached slightly, but his cold
didn't seem to have got any worse. A sliver of greyish light slipped in between the curtains, which meant
that, contrary to appearances, they had not been completely closed. No one will have noticed, he thought,
and he was right, the light of a star is brighter than bright, but not only is the greater part of it lost in space,
a mere mist is enough to hide the excess light from our eyes. Even if those living on the other side of the
street had come to peer out the window to see what the weather was like, they would think that the
luminous thread undulating between the drops sliding down the windowpane was just the rain glittering.
Still wrapped in the blanket, Senhor José slightly parted the curtains, it was his turn to find out what the
weather was like. It wasn't raining at that moment, but the sky was covered by a single dark cloud, so low
it seemed to touch the rooftops, like a huge tombstone. Just as well, he thought, the fewer people out in the
street the better. He went over and felt the clothes he had taken off, to see if they were in a fit state to be
put back on. His shirt, vest, underpants and socks were reasonably dry, his trousers rather less so, but bis
jacket and raincoat would take many more hours to dry. To avoid the damp-stiffened cloth rubbing against
his grazed knees, he put everything on except his trousers and set off in search of the first-aid cabinet.
Logically, it must be on the ground floor, near the gymnasium and the accidents that tend to happen there,
next to the playground where, between classes, in games of greater or lesser violence, the students go to
work off their energy and, more important, the tedium and anxiety provoked by study. He was right. After
washing his wounds with peroxide, he dabbed them with some disinfectant that smelled of iodine and
carefully bandaged them, using so many plasters that it looked as if he were wearing knee pads. He was
still able, though, to flex his joints enough to walk. He put on his trousers and felt like a new man,
although not new enough to forget the general malaise affecting his whole body. There must be something
here for colds and headaches, he thought, and soon afterwards, having found what he needed, he had two
pills in his stomach. He did not need to take any precautions to avoid being seen from outside, since, as
one would expect, the window in the first-aid room was also made of frosted glass, but from then on, he
would have to pay attention to every move he made, he couldn't afford any mistakes, he must keep well
away from the windows and, if he absolutely had to go over to a window, then he would have to do so on
all fours, he must behave, in short, as if he had never done anything in his life but burgle houses. A sudden
burning in his stomach reminded him that it had been a mistake to take the pills unaccompanied by food,
even if only a biscuit, Right, where would I find biscuits here, he asked himself, realising that now he had
a new problem to solve, the problem of food, since he wouldn't be able to leave the building until it was
dark, Very dark, he added. Although, as we know, he is easily satisfied when it comes to food, he would
have to eat something to dull his appetite until he got home, Senhor José, however, replied to that
necessity with these stoical words, It's only one day, no one ever died from not eating for a few hours. He