glowing embers of the fire. The air was comfortable now, devoid of chill yet a sharp contrast to the dayâs heat. It entered her mind to photograph this intimate and friendly gathering, but the thought of disturbing her weary bones was too painful. She had, as it was, removed her sneakers to expose the raw blisters on each heel to the soothing air. Now she opted for pure relaxation, joining the discussion as she found it becoming more and more fascinating.
âWhat will we find, exactly, when we get to the mine, Roberto?â she asked, unconsciously batting at the small insects which, attracted by the light of the dying fire, swarmed about.
âThat I canât tell you. Iâve had to guess as to what equipment to bring. At best weâll find the entrance to the mine and its long corridors open. My map directs us from the top, so we wonât get lost once inside the mine. It could be easy sailing all the way, right to the ledge on which the Topaz supposedly sits.â
âAnd at worst?â interjected Pierre, the pessimist always.
Roberto turned toward him, his expression growing more serious now. âAt worst weâll find the mine collapsedâshafts, entrance, everything. We have some digging equipment if itâs just the case of one corridor or another being blocked. Also, if itâs just the entrance, we can probably dig through. But if itâs the works, then it would take many more days than we have supplies for and much heavier equipment than ours to extricate the Topaz. In that case, our little jaunt will have been in vain, at least in regard to the Espinhaco Topaz.â His sad smile echoed Evaâs sentiments, although she was beginning to wonder if the Topaz would indeed be the
greatest memory of this trip for her. Her own sad smile turned to Roberto, and in that moment she knew that when she returned to New York the memory of him would probably outlive that of the Topaz. For in his strangely quixotic way he had awakened feelings within her that she thought to be long dead. He had made her feel alive again, at times gloriously and at times regretfully, but nonetheless alive!
What insanity, she scolded herself! What was she thinking about this Roberto de Carvalho? Women were his specialtyâcharm them, seduce them, then desert them. She wouldnât let herself fall into that trap. But she was jumping the gun, wasnât she? He despised her as much as she wanted to despise him. He thought she was some cheap tramp, a sex-starved black widow, he had called her. Sheâd have to keep her distance, she warned herself once more. She couldnât trust him, and she feared increasingly that she couldnât trust herself.
âYou look so sad, Eva. Does the prospect of seeing the Espinhaco Topaz mean so much to you?â Robertoâs mocking tone broke into her thoughts, causing a blush to creep up from her neck camouflaged only by the fading light of dusk.
Her head jerked toward him. âAh ⦠no ⦠I mean, what a shame it would be to have come all this way and be thwarted by nature itself! What could cause a collapse of the mine? Are there earthquakes around here?â
âNo. No earthquakes. No blizzards. Just rain. Not very often. Not very long. But when it comes it hits hard. Torrents. Over the years a few such torrential downpours could have gradually weakened the structure enough to have caused a cave-in.â
âBut when was the last time the mine has been seen ⦠open?â Tom broke in.
âA group of Canadian hikers scored the Serra do
Espinhaco four years ago,â Roberto replied. âAlthough they were mainly here for the hiking, one of them was an historian doing a dissertation on the Brazilian gold rush and its profound effects on the country. As they hiked, he mapped each of the paths they covered, labeling the location of each of the mines and its condition. When I came into possession of this map, I contacted him and
âWhat will we find, exactly, when we get to the mine, Roberto?â she asked, unconsciously batting at the small insects which, attracted by the light of the dying fire, swarmed about.
âThat I canât tell you. Iâve had to guess as to what equipment to bring. At best weâll find the entrance to the mine and its long corridors open. My map directs us from the top, so we wonât get lost once inside the mine. It could be easy sailing all the way, right to the ledge on which the Topaz supposedly sits.â
âAnd at worst?â interjected Pierre, the pessimist always.
Roberto turned toward him, his expression growing more serious now. âAt worst weâll find the mine collapsedâshafts, entrance, everything. We have some digging equipment if itâs just the case of one corridor or another being blocked. Also, if itâs just the entrance, we can probably dig through. But if itâs the works, then it would take many more days than we have supplies for and much heavier equipment than ours to extricate the Topaz. In that case, our little jaunt will have been in vain, at least in regard to the Espinhaco Topaz.â His sad smile echoed Evaâs sentiments, although she was beginning to wonder if the Topaz would indeed be the
greatest memory of this trip for her. Her own sad smile turned to Roberto, and in that moment she knew that when she returned to New York the memory of him would probably outlive that of the Topaz. For in his strangely quixotic way he had awakened feelings within her that she thought to be long dead. He had made her feel alive again, at times gloriously and at times regretfully, but nonetheless alive!
What insanity, she scolded herself! What was she thinking about this Roberto de Carvalho? Women were his specialtyâcharm them, seduce them, then desert them. She wouldnât let herself fall into that trap. But she was jumping the gun, wasnât she? He despised her as much as she wanted to despise him. He thought she was some cheap tramp, a sex-starved black widow, he had called her. Sheâd have to keep her distance, she warned herself once more. She couldnât trust him, and she feared increasingly that she couldnât trust herself.
âYou look so sad, Eva. Does the prospect of seeing the Espinhaco Topaz mean so much to you?â Robertoâs mocking tone broke into her thoughts, causing a blush to creep up from her neck camouflaged only by the fading light of dusk.
Her head jerked toward him. âAh ⦠no ⦠I mean, what a shame it would be to have come all this way and be thwarted by nature itself! What could cause a collapse of the mine? Are there earthquakes around here?â
âNo. No earthquakes. No blizzards. Just rain. Not very often. Not very long. But when it comes it hits hard. Torrents. Over the years a few such torrential downpours could have gradually weakened the structure enough to have caused a cave-in.â
âBut when was the last time the mine has been seen ⦠open?â Tom broke in.
âA group of Canadian hikers scored the Serra do
Espinhaco four years ago,â Roberto replied. âAlthough they were mainly here for the hiking, one of them was an historian doing a dissertation on the Brazilian gold rush and its profound effects on the country. As they hiked, he mapped each of the paths they covered, labeling the location of each of the mines and its condition. When I came into possession of this map, I contacted him and
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