RIO DE JANEIRO - Even a saint can make mistakes, says Flavia Nasser, and St. Anthony is no exception.

Love, after all, is a very tricky business.

Like Brazilian women everywhere, Nasser, 24, prays to St. Anthony of Padua for a husband.

For reasons unclear, the 12th century Portuguese-born monk, beatified for miracles that had nothing to do with the matrimonial hunt, is the object of intense devotion for husband-hunting Brazilians.

It's a phenomenon throughout Latin America.

Perhaps it has something to do with St. Anthony's gift for finding things lost, or perhaps it's just because, well . . . who else ya' gonna call?

"I asked him for a husband four years ago and, in two months, I found a boyfriend,'' says Nasser, after a recent midday Mass at Rio's magnificent St. Anthony's Church, built by Franciscans in 1608.

"But now I am praying to him again because I don't think he's the right man for me. I want St. Anthony to help me break it off with him in a calm, peaceful way - and then get me somebody new.''

Every day, sometimes three times a day, women young and old, plain and fair, all desperate to wed, bow their heads at the altar here.

They ask the kindly Friar Ulisses to bless little silver statues of the saint, and beseech his blessing for special St. Anthony breads they either eat themselves or give to their intended, ah, victim.

It's supposed to work.

Every Tuesday is a special day for St. Anthony. His saint's day is June 13 and, on the 13th of each month, women offer even more elaborate prayers, promises and pleas for help.

"I promised St. Anthony in January I wouldn't cut my hair for a year if he will find me a suitable husband,'' says Marcia Fernandes, 29, a secretary whose curly hair is already shoulder-length.

"I met a man in May, and now I come here to reinforce the promise and ask to marry him soon.''

She fondles her statue. She says St. Anthony has been wonderful.

But beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

Those whose prayers to St. Anthony are not answered exact swift and terrible revenge. They put his little statue upside down in a glass of rice, with two engagement rings tied together to signify what he has most definitely failed to accomplish for them.

They leave him there until a man comes along.

They submerge poor St. Anthony head-first in water, and shut him away in a cupboard or other dark place. They buy an image of the benighted saint holding a small "removable'' baby Jesus, then take the Christ-Child away as punishment for not procuring a husband.

"They do all kinds of things to him,'' says Friar Ulisses, 46.

These women aren't praying for casual dates, or a fun-filled fling. They want the works, and they want it now: the white dress, the bridal veil, the big church ceremony, the wedding bells pealing for them.

They figure it's the very least they can expect in a rigid macho society in which women often get little else.

But there are no weddings at St. Anthony's. Here, priests draw the line at acting as go-betweens to heavenly powers.

"We don't celebrate weddings,'' says a sign you can't miss in the church.

"I have believed in St. Anthony since I was a child,'' says artisan Ana Claudia Pereira, 22, at Mass with her friend, Claudia Fonseca, 26.

"I bought a little statue of him and prayed. Then I lost it,'' she says. "They say that when you lose St. Anthony, your prayer is about to be granted. You will find him again either just before you are about to get married, or right after the honeymoon.

"Two weeks after I lost him, I met a man. Now I am engaged,'' she says, eyes flashing in triumph.

Fonseca, too, is engaged.

"But I come here every day so that (my fiancé) won't back down on his commitment,'' she explains.