The War Of The End Of The World - Mario Vargas Llosa [234]
“Since you’re asking me to speak frankly, I’ll confess to you that were it not for what happened to Moreira César in Canudos, I wouldn’t be here, nor would there be any conversations between our two parties,” Epaminondas conceded.
“We’re agreed on that point, then,” the baron said. “I presume that we also agree on what this military mobilization on a grand scale that is being carried out by the federal government throughout the country means for Bahia politically.”
“I don’t know if we see eye to eye on that subject.” Epaminondas picked up his glass, took a sip, savored the aftertaste, and added coldly: “For you and your friends, it’s the end, naturally.”
“It’s the end for you and yours above all, Epaminondas,” the baron replied amiably. “Haven’t you realized? With Moreira César’s death, the Jacobins have suffered a mortal blow. They’ve lost the only prestigious figure they could count on. Yes, my friend, the jagunços have done President Prudente de Moraes and the parliament—that government of ‘pedants’ and ‘cosmopolites’ that you people wanted to overthrow in order to set up your Dictatorial Republic—a favor. Moraes and the politicians in São Paulo are going to take advantage of this crisis to clear all the Jacobins out of the army and the administration. There were always very few of them and now they’re without a head. You, too, will be swept out in this purge. That’s why I sent for you. What with the huge army that’s coming to Bahia, we’re going to find ourselves in trouble. The federal government will name a military and political leader to take over this state, someone whom Prudente de Moraes trusts, and the Assembly will lose all its power, or even be closed down, since it will no longer serve any purpose. Every form of local power will disappear from Bahia and we’ll be a mere appendix of Rio. However strong a supporter of centralism you may be, I imagine that you’re not a strong enough one to be willing to see yourself eliminated from political life.”
“That’s one way of looking at things,” Epaminondas murmured imperturbably. “Can you tell me how this common front that you’re proposing would avert this danger?”
“The union of our two parties will force Moraes to negotiate and come to terms with us and will save Bahia from being tied hand and foot beneath the control of a military viceroy,” the baron answered. “And, moreover, it will give you the possibility of reaching power.”
“Along with…” Epaminondas Gonçalves said.
“Alone,” the baron corrected him. “The governorship of the state is yours. Luiz Viana will not run again and you will be our candidate. We will present joint lists of candidates for the Assembly and the Municipal Councils. Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all this time?”
Epaminondas Gonçalves’s face flushed. Was this sudden glow produced by the cognac, the heat, what he had just heard, or what he was thinking? He remained silent for a few seconds, lost in thought. “Are your supporters in agreement with all this?” he finally asked in a low voice.
“They will be when they realize what it is they’re obliged to do,” the baron answered. “I’ll persuade them—I give you my word. Are you satisfied?”
“I need to know what you’re going to ask of me in return,” Epaminondas Gonçalves replied.
“That landed property and urban businesses not be touched,” the Baron de Canabrava replied immediately. “Our people and your people will fight any attempt to confiscate, expropriate, interfere with, or impose immoderate taxes on landed property or businesses. That is the only condition.”
Epaminondas Gonçalves took a deep breath, as though he needed air. He drank the rest of his cognac in one swallow. “And you, Baron?”
“Me?” the baron murmured, as though he were