The priceless jewel
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Eu morreria de dôr, se me visse forçado a largar mão da joia inestimavel, que o céo parece ter-me destinado, e que eu ha tanto tempo rodeio dos mais ardentes anhélos de minha alma...
I would die of grief if I saw myself forced to let go of the priceless jewel heaven seems to have destined for me, and which I have so long surrounded with my soul's most ardent longings.
The whole speech has been climbing toward this image, and it gives Leôncio away completely: Isaura is a 'joia inestimavel' — a priceless jewel — that heaven 'destined' for him. A jewel is the perfect figure for how he sees her: precious, and a thing. His 'ardent longings' circle her the way a man circles a treasure he means to keep locked. Note the theft in 'destinado': he makes his craving a matter of providence, as if the heavens themselves had deeded her to him. The reader hears what he cannot — that a soul, the very word he'll reach for next, is exactly what a jewel is not.
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A Escrava Isaura 9.54 — The Great Library Project interlinear edition · greatlibraryproject.com/book/escravaisaura/9.54/