The Abyss by Lara Blunte

scrubbing and wringing them, or leaving them in the water to soak. Every time she saw Teresa or the washerwoman go into the bedrooms, Juliana would follow to see what they were taking to wash.
    "Not that!" she would scream. "You can't wash silk like that!"
    Teresa would sometimes wave her hand in front of her nose, frowning, and say, " Europeans! "
    "Do we really smell that bad to you?" Clara asked, amused.
    Teresa nodded and repeated the gesture, though she would never have dared make it to Juliana.
    Clara became used to baths every day and to washing her hair often. Teresa would put orange blossom or rose petals in the water, and she would emerge wonderfully clean and fresh. It was true as well that the more she washed, the more she could smell others.
    Today they were going to an evening of music at Quinta da Boa Vista, at the prince's invitation. The prince did not often entertain, apart from the ceremony of  beija-mão , or hand-kissing, a medieval custom preserved by Portugal's monarchy during which Prince John would sit for hours receiving subjects who wanted to ask for something. He lived apart from his wife, as she had too many times conspired against him in favor of Spain, and he tended to participate in special masses and religious processions rather than balls.
    Perhaps the constant  beija-mãos,  with their endless line of petitioners ─Brazilians, Portuguese, slaves, freedmen, Indians─exhausted him. And then there were his political allies, the British, coming to dictate policies now that Portugal was in French hands and needed them. Finally, there was the need to modernize a country that had become home to the prince and his court. For too long Brazil had only served to fill Lisbon's treasury with hardly any return; he needed to liberalize some of the things he had once forbidden.
    There was much to do indeed, as a lot of the comforts of civilization were lacking in Rio. Houses were already going up in the best spots of the city, the ports had been opened and roads were being improved; the prince must be tired with so much to attend to, and had never been fond of society in the first place.  Therefore Clara was glad of the opportunity to wear a beautiful dress and perhaps even dance a little, as musical evenings were rare.
    It would also be an opportunity for her to see how the court was faring, and whether there were new arrivals. There had been an unprecedented influx of British citizens to Brazil, and other foreigners had also begun to disembark in the country. It would be interesting to have conversations other than the price of a bull or pig, which was what the rich local farmers liked to talk about; it would be good to find out about the latest books and trends of thought in Europe from people who had just disembarked.
    For now, her only friend was Paula, a Brazilian woman her age who was already married and had three children, but who was so pretty,  amusing and generous that Clara always exchanged visits with her.
    Paula had been with Clara only that morning, sporting the turban that was all the rage in Rio, and that never failed to make Clara laugh.
    "Why do you laugh, Clarinha?" Paula had asked her the first time in her languid Brazilian accent, stretching out the vowels and softening the consonants. 
    "I can't tell you," Clara had said, burying her face on a cushion.
    Paula was already joining her in laughter, "But you must, you must! I won't be angry!"
    Clara could not imagine Paula angry. "All right then," Clara said, raising a red face. "It's that...everyone here thinks that when the princess and others came off our ships wearing turbans, it was the fashion in Europe, and the women here cut their hair and started wearing turbans..."
    "Is it not the fashion?"
    "They shaved their hair because they were infested with lice!" Clara laughed. "And then they wrapped anything on their heads!"
    Paula threw her head back and laughed merrily at this for a while, but then looked at herself in the