summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/30278-h/30278-h.htm
blob: fe8a3b622edbb8a7df5015480adaca1077c0d3d3 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899
9900
9901
9902
9903
9904
9905
9906
9907
9908
9909
9910
9911
9912
9913
9914
9915
9916
9917
9918
9919
9920
9921
9922
9923
9924
9925
9926
9927
9928
9929
9930
9931
9932
9933
9934
9935
9936
9937
9938
9939
9940
9941
9942
9943
9944
9945
9946
9947
9948
9949
9950
9951
9952
9953
9954
9955
9956
9957
9958
9959
9960
9961
9962
9963
9964
9965
9966
9967
9968
9969
9970
9971
9972
9973
9974
9975
9976
9977
9978
9979
9980
9981
9982
9983
9984
9985
9986
9987
9988
9989
9990
9991
9992
9993
9994
9995
9996
9997
9998
9999
10000
10001
10002
10003
10004
10005
10006
10007
10008
10009
10010
10011
10012
10013
10014
10015
10016
10017
10018
10019
10020
10021
10022
10023
10024
10025
10026
10027
10028
10029
10030
10031
10032
10033
10034
10035
10036
10037
10038
10039
10040
10041
10042
10043
10044
10045
10046
10047
10048
10049
10050
10051
10052
10053
10054
10055
10056
10057
10058
10059
10060
10061
10062
10063
10064
10065
10066
10067
10068
10069
10070
10071
10072
10073
10074
10075
10076
10077
10078
10079
10080
10081
10082
10083
10084
10085
10086
10087
10088
10089
10090
10091
10092
10093
10094
10095
10096
10097
10098
10099
10100
10101
10102
10103
10104
10105
10106
10107
10108
10109
10110
10111
10112
10113
10114
10115
10116
10117
10118
10119
10120
10121
10122
10123
10124
10125
10126
10127
10128
10129
10130
10131
10132
10133
10134
10135
10136
10137
10138
10139
10140
10141
10142
10143
10144
10145
10146
10147
10148
10149
10150
10151
10152
10153
10154
10155
10156
10157
10158
10159
10160
10161
10162
10163
10164
10165
10166
10167
10168
10169
10170
10171
10172
10173
10174
10175
10176
10177
10178
10179
10180
10181
10182
10183
10184
10185
10186
10187
10188
10189
10190
10191
10192
10193
10194
10195
10196
10197
10198
10199
10200
10201
10202
10203
10204
10205
10206
10207
10208
10209
10210
10211
10212
10213
10214
10215
10216
10217
10218
10219
10220
10221
10222
10223
10224
10225
10226
10227
10228
10229
10230
10231
10232
10233
10234
10235
10236
10237
10238
10239
10240
10241
10242
10243
10244
10245
10246
10247
10248
10249
10250
10251
10252
10253
10254
10255
10256
10257
10258
10259
10260
10261
10262
10263
10264
10265
10266
10267
10268
10269
10270
10271
10272
10273
10274
10275
10276
10277
10278
10279
10280
10281
10282
10283
10284
10285
10286
10287
10288
10289
10290
10291
10292
10293
10294
10295
10296
10297
10298
10299
10300
10301
10302
10303
10304
10305
10306
10307
10308
10309
10310
10311
10312
10313
10314
10315
10316
10317
10318
10319
10320
10321
10322
10323
10324
10325
10326
10327
10328
10329
10330
10331
10332
10333
10334
10335
10336
10337
10338
10339
10340
10341
10342
10343
10344
10345
10346
10347
10348
10349
10350
10351
10352
10353
10354
10355
10356
10357
10358
10359
10360
10361
10362
10363
10364
10365
10366
10367
10368
10369
10370
10371
10372
10373
10374
10375
10376
10377
10378
10379
10380
10381
10382
10383
10384
10385
10386
10387
10388
10389
10390
10391
10392
10393
10394
10395
10396
10397
10398
10399
10400
10401
10402
10403
10404
10405
10406
10407
10408
10409
10410
10411
10412
10413
10414
10415
10416
10417
10418
10419
10420
10421
10422
10423
10424
10425
10426
10427
10428
10429
10430
10431
10432
10433
10434
10435
10436
10437
10438
10439
10440
10441
10442
10443
10444
10445
10446
10447
10448
10449
10450
10451
10452
10453
10454
10455
10456
10457
10458
10459
10460
10461
10462
10463
10464
10465
10466
10467
10468
10469
10470
10471
10472
10473
10474
10475
10476
10477
10478
10479
10480
10481
10482
10483
10484
10485
10486
10487
10488
10489
10490
10491
10492
10493
10494
10495
10496
10497
10498
10499
10500
10501
10502
10503
10504
10505
10506
10507
10508
10509
10510
10511
10512
10513
10514
10515
10516
10517
10518
10519
10520
10521
10522
10523
10524
10525
10526
10527
10528
10529
10530
10531
10532
10533
10534
10535
10536
10537
10538
10539
10540
10541
10542
10543
10544
10545
10546
10547
10548
10549
10550
10551
10552
10553
10554
10555
10556
10557
10558
10559
10560
10561
10562
10563
10564
10565
10566
10567
10568
10569
10570
10571
10572
10573
10574
10575
10576
10577
10578
10579
10580
10581
10582
10583
10584
10585
10586
10587
10588
10589
10590
10591
10592
10593
10594
10595
10596
10597
10598
10599
10600
10601
10602
10603
10604
10605
10606
10607
10608
10609
10610
10611
10612
10613
10614
10615
10616
10617
10618
10619
10620
10621
10622
10623
10624
10625
10626
10627
10628
10629
10630
10631
10632
10633
10634
10635
10636
10637
10638
10639
10640
10641
10642
10643
10644
10645
10646
10647
10648
10649
10650
10651
10652
10653
10654
10655
10656
10657
10658
10659
10660
10661
10662
10663
10664
10665
10666
10667
10668
10669
10670
10671
10672
10673
10674
10675
10676
10677
10678
10679
10680
10681
10682
10683
10684
10685
10686
10687
10688
10689
10690
10691
10692
10693
10694
10695
10696
10697
10698
10699
10700
10701
10702
10703
10704
10705
10706
10707
10708
10709
10710
10711
10712
10713
10714
10715
10716
10717
10718
10719
10720
10721
10722
10723
10724
10725
10726
10727
10728
10729
10730
10731
10732
10733
10734
10735
10736
10737
10738
10739
10740
10741
10742
10743
10744
10745
10746
10747
10748
10749
10750
10751
10752
10753
10754
10755
10756
10757
10758
10759
10760
10761
10762
10763
10764
10765
10766
10767
10768
10769
10770
10771
10772
10773
10774
10775
10776
10777
10778
10779
10780
10781
10782
10783
10784
10785
10786
10787
10788
10789
10790
10791
10792
10793
10794
10795
10796
10797
10798
10799
10800
10801
10802
10803
10804
10805
10806
10807
10808
10809
10810
10811
10812
10813
10814
10815
10816
10817
10818
10819
10820
10821
10822
10823
10824
10825
10826
10827
10828
10829
10830
10831
10832
10833
10834
10835
10836
10837
10838
10839
10840
10841
10842
10843
10844
10845
10846
10847
10848
10849
10850
10851
10852
10853
10854
10855
10856
10857
10858
10859
10860
10861
10862
10863
10864
10865
10866
10867
10868
10869
10870
10871
10872
10873
10874
10875
10876
10877
10878
10879
10880
10881
10882
10883
10884
10885
10886
10887
10888
10889
10890
10891
10892
10893
10894
10895
10896
10897
10898
10899
10900
10901
10902
10903
10904
10905
10906
10907
10908
10909
10910
10911
10912
10913
10914
10915
10916
10917
10918
10919
10920
10921
10922
10923
10924
10925
10926
10927
10928
10929
10930
10931
10932
10933
10934
10935
10936
10937
10938
10939
10940
10941
10942
10943
10944
10945
10946
10947
10948
10949
10950
10951
10952
10953
10954
10955
10956
10957
10958
10959
10960
10961
10962
10963
10964
10965
10966
10967
10968
10969
10970
10971
10972
10973
10974
10975
10976
10977
10978
10979
10980
10981
10982
10983
10984
10985
10986
10987
10988
10989
10990
10991
10992
10993
10994
10995
10996
10997
10998
10999
11000
11001
11002
11003
11004
11005
11006
11007
11008
11009
11010
11011
11012
11013
11014
11015
11016
11017
11018
11019
11020
11021
11022
11023
11024
11025
11026
11027
11028
11029
11030
11031
11032
11033
11034
11035
11036
11037
11038
11039
11040
11041
11042
11043
11044
11045
11046
11047
11048
11049
11050
11051
11052
11053
11054
11055
11056
11057
11058
11059
11060
11061
11062
11063
11064
11065
11066
11067
11068
11069
11070
11071
11072
11073
11074
11075
11076
11077
11078
11079
11080
11081
11082
11083
11084
11085
11086
11087
11088
11089
11090
11091
11092
11093
11094
11095
11096
11097
11098
11099
11100
11101
11102
11103
11104
11105
11106
11107
11108
11109
11110
11111
11112
11113
11114
11115
11116
11117
11118
11119
11120
11121
11122
11123
11124
11125
11126
11127
11128
11129
11130
11131
11132
11133
11134
11135
11136
11137
11138
11139
11140
11141
11142
11143
11144
11145
11146
11147
11148
11149
11150
11151
11152
11153
11154
11155
11156
11157
11158
11159
11160
11161
11162
11163
11164
11165
11166
11167
11168
11169
11170
11171
11172
11173
11174
11175
11176
11177
11178
11179
11180
11181
11182
11183
11184
11185
11186
11187
11188
11189
11190
11191
11192
11193
11194
11195
11196
11197
11198
11199
11200
11201
11202
11203
11204
11205
11206
11207
11208
11209
11210
11211
11212
11213
11214
11215
11216
11217
11218
11219
11220
11221
11222
11223
11224
11225
11226
11227
11228
11229
11230
11231
11232
11233
11234
11235
11236
11237
11238
11239
11240
11241
11242
11243
11244
11245
11246
11247
11248
11249
11250
11251
11252
11253
11254
11255
11256
11257
11258
11259
11260
11261
11262
11263
11264
11265
11266
11267
11268
11269
11270
11271
11272
11273
11274
11275
11276
11277
11278
11279
11280
11281
11282
11283
11284
11285
11286
11287
11288
11289
11290
11291
11292
11293
11294
11295
11296
11297
11298
11299
11300
11301
11302
11303
11304
11305
11306
11307
11308
11309
11310
11311
11312
11313
11314
11315
11316
11317
11318
11319
11320
11321
11322
11323
11324
11325
11326
11327
11328
11329
11330
11331
11332
11333
11334
11335
11336
11337
11338
11339
11340
11341
11342
11343
11344
11345
11346
11347
11348
11349
11350
11351
11352
11353
11354
11355
11356
11357
11358
11359
11360
11361
11362
11363
11364
11365
11366
11367
11368
11369
11370
11371
11372
11373
11374
11375
11376
11377
11378
11379
11380
11381
11382
11383
11384
11385
11386
11387
11388
11389
11390
11391
11392
11393
11394
11395
11396
11397
11398
11399
11400
11401
11402
11403
11404
11405
11406
11407
11408
11409
11410
11411
11412
11413
11414
11415
11416
11417
11418
11419
11420
11421
11422
11423
11424
11425
11426
11427
11428
11429
11430
11431
11432
11433
11434
11435
11436
11437
11438
11439
11440
11441
11442
11443
11444
11445
11446
11447
11448
11449
11450
11451
11452
11453
11454
11455
11456
11457
11458
11459
11460
11461
11462
11463
11464
11465
11466
11467
11468
11469
11470
11471
11472
11473
11474
11475
11476
11477
11478
11479
11480
11481
11482
11483
11484
11485
11486
11487
11488
11489
11490
11491
11492
11493
11494
11495
11496
11497
11498
11499
11500
11501
11502
11503
11504
11505
11506
11507
11508
11509
11510
11511
11512
11513
11514
11515
11516
11517
11518
11519
11520
11521
11522
11523
11524
11525
11526
11527
11528
11529
11530
11531
11532
11533
11534
11535
11536
11537
11538
11539
11540
11541
11542
11543
11544
11545
11546
11547
11548
11549
11550
11551
11552
11553
11554
11555
11556
11557
11558
11559
11560
11561
11562
11563
11564
11565
11566
11567
11568
11569
11570
11571
11572
11573
11574
11575
11576
11577
11578
11579
11580
11581
11582
11583
11584
11585
11586
11587
11588
11589
11590
11591
11592
11593
11594
11595
11596
11597
11598
11599
11600
11601
11602
11603
11604
11605
11606
11607
11608
11609
11610
11611
11612
11613
11614
11615
11616
11617
11618
11619
11620
11621
11622
11623
11624
11625
11626
11627
11628
11629
11630
11631
11632
11633
11634
11635
11636
11637
11638
11639
11640
11641
11642
11643
11644
11645
11646
11647
11648
11649
11650
11651
11652
11653
11654
11655
11656
11657
11658
11659
11660
11661
11662
11663
11664
11665
11666
11667
11668
11669
11670
11671
11672
11673
11674
11675
11676
11677
11678
11679
11680
11681
11682
11683
11684
11685
11686
11687
11688
11689
11690
11691
11692
11693
11694
11695
11696
11697
11698
11699
11700
11701
11702
11703
11704
11705
11706
11707
11708
11709
11710
11711
11712
11713
11714
11715
11716
11717
11718
11719
11720
11721
11722
11723
11724
11725
11726
11727
11728
11729
11730
11731
11732
11733
11734
11735
11736
11737
11738
11739
11740
11741
11742
11743
11744
11745
11746
11747
11748
11749
11750
11751
11752
11753
11754
11755
11756
11757
11758
11759
11760
11761
11762
11763
11764
11765
11766
11767
11768
11769
11770
11771
11772
11773
11774
11775
11776
11777
11778
11779
11780
11781
11782
11783
11784
11785
11786
11787
11788
11789
11790
11791
11792
11793
11794
11795
11796
11797
11798
11799
11800
11801
11802
11803
11804
11805
11806
11807
11808
11809
11810
11811
11812
11813
11814
11815
11816
11817
11818
11819
11820
11821
11822
11823
11824
11825
11826
11827
11828
11829
11830
11831
11832
11833
11834
11835
11836
11837
11838
11839
11840
11841
11842
11843
11844
11845
11846
11847
11848
11849
11850
11851
11852
11853
11854
11855
11856
11857
11858
11859
11860
11861
11862
11863
11864
11865
11866
11867
11868
11869
11870
11871
11872
11873
11874
11875
11876
11877
11878
11879
11880
11881
11882
11883
11884
11885
11886
11887
11888
11889
11890
11891
11892
11893
11894
11895
11896
11897
11898
11899
11900
11901
11902
11903
11904
11905
11906
11907
11908
11909
11910
11911
11912
11913
11914
11915
11916
11917
11918
11919
11920
11921
11922
11923
11924
11925
11926
11927
11928
11929
11930
11931
11932
11933
11934
11935
11936
11937
11938
11939
11940
11941
11942
11943
11944
11945
11946
11947
11948
11949
11950
11951
11952
11953
11954
11955
11956
11957
11958
11959
11960
11961
11962
11963
11964
11965
11966
11967
11968
11969
11970
11971
11972
11973
11974
11975
11976
11977
11978
11979
11980
11981
11982
11983
11984
11985
11986
11987
11988
11989
11990
11991
11992
11993
11994
11995
11996
11997
11998
11999
12000
12001
12002
12003
12004
12005
12006
12007
12008
12009
12010
12011
12012
12013
12014
12015
12016
12017
12018
12019
12020
12021
12022
12023
12024
12025
12026
12027
12028
12029
12030
12031
12032
12033
12034
12035
12036
12037
12038
12039
12040
12041
12042
12043
12044
12045
12046
12047
12048
12049
12050
12051
12052
12053
12054
12055
12056
12057
12058
12059
12060
12061
12062
12063
12064
12065
12066
12067
12068
12069
12070
12071
12072
12073
12074
12075
12076
12077
12078
12079
12080
12081
12082
12083
12084
12085
12086
12087
12088
12089
12090
12091
12092
12093
12094
12095
12096
12097
12098
12099
12100
12101
12102
12103
12104
12105
12106
12107
12108
12109
12110
12111
12112
12113
12114
12115
12116
12117
12118
12119
12120
12121
12122
12123
12124
12125
12126
12127
12128
12129
12130
12131
12132
12133
12134
12135
12136
12137
12138
12139
12140
12141
12142
12143
12144
12145
12146
12147
12148
12149
12150
12151
12152
12153
12154
12155
12156
12157
12158
12159
12160
12161
12162
12163
12164
12165
12166
12167
12168
12169
12170
12171
12172
12173
12174
12175
12176
12177
12178
12179
12180
12181
12182
12183
12184
12185
12186
12187
12188
12189
12190
12191
12192
12193
12194
12195
12196
12197
12198
12199
12200
12201
12202
12203
12204
12205
12206
12207
12208
12209
12210
12211
12212
12213
12214
12215
12216
12217
12218
12219
12220
12221
12222
12223
12224
12225
12226
12227
12228
12229
12230
12231
12232
12233
12234
12235
12236
12237
12238
12239
12240
12241
12242
12243
12244
12245
12246
12247
12248
12249
12250
12251
12252
12253
12254
12255
12256
12257
12258
12259
12260
12261
12262
12263
12264
12265
12266
12267
12268
12269
12270
12271
12272
12273
12274
12275
12276
12277
12278
12279
12280
12281
12282
12283
12284
12285
12286
12287
12288
12289
12290
12291
12292
12293
12294
12295
12296
12297
12298
12299
12300
12301
12302
12303
12304
12305
12306
12307
12308
12309
12310
12311
12312
12313
12314
12315
12316
12317
12318
12319
12320
12321
12322
12323
12324
12325
12326
12327
12328
12329
12330
12331
12332
12333
12334
12335
12336
12337
12338
12339
12340
12341
12342
12343
12344
12345
12346
12347
12348
12349
12350
12351
12352
12353
12354
12355
12356
12357
12358
12359
12360
12361
12362
12363
12364
12365
12366
12367
12368
12369
12370
12371
12372
12373
12374
12375
12376
12377
12378
12379
12380
12381
12382
12383
12384
12385
12386
12387
12388
12389
12390
12391
12392
12393
12394
12395
12396
12397
12398
12399
12400
12401
12402
12403
12404
12405
12406
12407
12408
12409
12410
12411
12412
12413
12414
12415
12416
12417
12418
12419
12420
12421
12422
12423
12424
12425
12426
12427
12428
12429
12430
12431
12432
12433
12434
12435
12436
12437
12438
12439
12440
12441
12442
12443
12444
12445
12446
12447
12448
12449
12450
12451
12452
12453
12454
12455
12456
12457
12458
12459
12460
12461
12462
12463
12464
12465
12466
12467
12468
12469
12470
12471
12472
12473
12474
12475
12476
12477
12478
12479
12480
12481
12482
12483
12484
12485
12486
12487
12488
12489
12490
12491
12492
12493
12494
12495
12496
12497
12498
12499
12500
12501
12502
12503
12504
12505
12506
12507
12508
12509
12510
12511
12512
12513
12514
12515
12516
12517
12518
12519
12520
12521
12522
12523
12524
12525
12526
12527
12528
12529
12530
12531
12532
12533
12534
12535
12536
12537
12538
12539
12540
12541
12542
12543
12544
12545
12546
12547
12548
12549
12550
12551
12552
12553
12554
12555
12556
12557
12558
12559
12560
12561
12562
12563
12564
12565
12566
12567
12568
12569
12570
12571
12572
12573
12574
12575
12576
12577
12578
12579
12580
12581
12582
12583
12584
12585
12586
12587
12588
12589
12590
12591
12592
12593
12594
12595
12596
12597
12598
12599
12600
12601
12602
12603
12604
12605
12606
12607
12608
12609
12610
12611
12612
12613
12614
12615
12616
12617
12618
12619
12620
12621
12622
12623
12624
12625
12626
12627
12628
12629
12630
12631
12632
12633
12634
12635
12636
12637
12638
12639
12640
12641
12642
12643
12644
12645
12646
12647
12648
12649
12650
12651
12652
12653
12654
12655
12656
12657
12658
12659
12660
12661
12662
12663
12664
12665
12666
12667
12668
12669
12670
12671
12672
12673
12674
12675
12676
12677
12678
12679
12680
12681
12682
12683
12684
12685
12686
12687
12688
12689
12690
12691
12692
12693
12694
12695
12696
12697
12698
12699
12700
12701
12702
12703
12704
12705
12706
12707
12708
12709
12710
12711
12712
12713
12714
12715
12716
12717
12718
12719
12720
12721
12722
12723
12724
12725
12726
12727
12728
12729
12730
12731
12732
12733
12734
12735
12736
12737
12738
12739
12740
12741
12742
12743
12744
12745
12746
12747
12748
12749
12750
12751
12752
12753
12754
12755
12756
12757
12758
12759
12760
12761
12762
12763
12764
12765
12766
12767
12768
12769
12770
12771
12772
12773
12774
12775
12776
12777
12778
12779
12780
12781
12782
12783
12784
12785
12786
12787
12788
12789
12790
12791
12792
12793
12794
12795
12796
12797
12798
12799
12800
12801
12802
12803
12804
12805
12806
12807
12808
12809
12810
12811
12812
12813
12814
12815
12816
12817
12818
12819
12820
12821
12822
12823
12824
12825
12826
12827
12828
12829
12830
12831
12832
12833
12834
12835
12836
12837
12838
12839
12840
12841
12842
12843
12844
12845
12846
12847
12848
12849
12850
12851
12852
12853
12854
12855
12856
12857
12858
12859
12860
12861
12862
12863
12864
12865
12866
12867
12868
12869
12870
12871
12872
12873
12874
12875
12876
12877
12878
12879
12880
12881
12882
12883
12884
12885
12886
12887
12888
12889
12890
12891
12892
12893
12894
12895
12896
12897
12898
12899
12900
12901
12902
12903
12904
12905
12906
12907
12908
12909
12910
12911
12912
12913
12914
12915
12916
12917
12918
12919
12920
12921
12922
12923
12924
12925
12926
12927
12928
12929
12930
12931
12932
12933
12934
12935
12936
12937
12938
12939
12940
12941
12942
12943
12944
12945
12946
12947
12948
12949
12950
12951
12952
12953
12954
12955
12956
12957
12958
12959
12960
12961
12962
12963
12964
12965
12966
12967
12968
12969
12970
12971
12972
12973
12974
12975
12976
12977
12978
12979
12980
12981
12982
12983
12984
12985
12986
12987
12988
12989
12990
12991
12992
12993
12994
12995
12996
12997
12998
12999
13000
13001
13002
13003
13004
13005
13006
13007
13008
13009
13010

<!DOCTYPE html
PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/loose.dtd">
<!-- This HTML file has been automatically generated from an XML source, using XSLT. If you find any mistakes, please edit the XML source. -->
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta name="generator" content="HTML Tidy, see www.w3.org">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content=
"text/html; charset=UTF-8">
<title>Friars and Filipinos</title>
<link rel="schema.DC" href=
"http://dublincore.org/documents/1998/09/dces/">
<meta name="author" content="Jos&eacute; Rizal">
<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Jos&eacute; Rizal">
<meta name="DC.Title" content="Friars and Filipinos">
<meta name="DC.Date" content="#####">
<meta name="DC.Language" content="en">
<style type="text/css">
 /* Standard CSS stylesheet */
body
{
 font: 100%/1.2em "Times New Roman", Times, serif;
 margin: 1.58em 16%;
 text-align: left;
}
/***** Titlepage *****/
.titlePage
{
 border: #DDDDDD 2px solid;
 margin: 3em 0% 7em 0%;
 padding: 5em 10% 6em 10%;
}
h1.docTitle
{
 font-size:1.6em;
 line-height:2em;
}
h2.byline
{
 font-size:1.1em;
 font-weight:normal;
 line-height:1.44em;
}
span.docAuthor
{
 font-size:1.2em;
 font-weight:bold;
}
h2.docImprint
{
 font-size:1.2em;
 font-weight:normal;
}
/***** End Titlepage *****/
.transcribernote
{
 background-color:#DDE;
 border:black 1px dotted;
 color:#000;
 font-family:sans-serif;
 font-size:80%;
 margin:2em 5%;
 padding:1em;
}
.advertisment
{
 background-color:#FFFEE0;
 border:black 1px dotted;
 color:#000;
 margin:2em 5%;
 padding:1em;
}
.div0
{
 padding-top: 5.6em;
}
.div1
{
 padding-top: 4.8em;
}
.index
{
 font-size: 80%;
}
.div2
{
 padding-top: 3.6em;
}
.div3, .div4, .div5
{
 padding-top: 2.4em;
}
.footnotes .body,
.footnotes .div1
{
 padding: 0;
}
h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6, .pseudoh1, .pseudoh2, .pseudoh3, pseudoh4
{
 clear: both;
 font-style: normal;
 text-transform: none;
}
h3, .pseudoh3
{
 font-size:1.2em;
 line-height:1.2em;
}
h3.label
{
 font-size:1em;
 line-height:1.2em;
 margin-bottom:0;
}
h4, pseudoh4
{
 font-size:1em;
 line-height:1.2em;
}
.alignleft
{
 text-align:left;
}
.alignright
{
 text-align:right;
}
.alignblock
{
 text-align:justify;
}
p.tb, hr.tb
{
 margin-top: 1.6em;
 margin-bottom: 1.6em;
 margin-left: auto;
 margin-right: auto;
 text-align: center;
}
p.argument, p.note, p.tocArgument
{
 font-size:0.9em;
 line-height:1.2em;
 text-indent:0;
}
p.argument, p.tocArgument
{
 margin:1.58em 10%;
}
p.tocChapter
{
 margin:1.58em 0%;
}
p.tocSection
{
 margin:0.7em 5%;
}
.epigraph
{
 font-size:0.9em;
 line-height:1.2em;
 width: 60%;
 margin-left: auto;
}
.epigraph span.bibl
{
 display: block;
 text-align: right;
}
.trailer
{
 clear: both;
 padding-top: 2.4em;
 padding-bottom: 1.6em;
}
.floatLeft
{
 float:left;
 margin:10px 10px 10px 0;
}
.floatRight
{
 float:right;
 margin:10px 0 10px 10px;
}
p.figureHead
{
 font-size:100%;
 text-align:center;
}
.figAnnotation
{
 font-size:80%;
 position:relative;
 margin: 0 auto; /* center this */
}
.figTopLeft, .figBottomLeft
{
 float: left;
}
.figTop, .figBottom
{
}
.figTopRight, .figBottomRight
{
 float: right;
}
.figure p
{
 font-size:80%;
 margin-top:0;
 text-align:center;
}
p.smallprint,li.smallprint
{
 color:#666666;
 font-size:80%;
}
span.parnum
{
 font-weight: bold;
}
.leftnote
{
 font-size:0.8em;
 height:0;
 left:1%;
 line-height:1.2em;
 position:absolute;
 text-indent:0;
 width:14%;
}
.pagenum
{
 display:inline;
 font-size:70%;
 font-style:normal;
 margin:0;
 padding:0;
 position:absolute;
 right:1%;
 text-align:right;
}
a.noteref, a.pseudonoteref
{
 font-size: 80%;
 text-decoration: none;
 vertical-align: 0.25em;
}
.displayfootnote
{
 display: none;
}
div.footnotes
{
 margin-top: 1em;
 padding: 0;
}
hr.fnsep
{
 margin-left: 0;
 margin-right: 0;
 text-align: left;
 width: 25%;
}
p.footnote
{
 font-size: 80%;
 margin-bottom: 0.5em;
 margin-top: 0.5em;
}
p.footnote .label
{
 float: left;
 text-align:left;
 width:2em;
}
.footnotes td, .footnotes th, .footnotes .tablecaption
{
 font-size: 80%;
}
.centertable
{
 /* center the table */
 margin: 0px auto;
 display:table; /* used to make the block shrink to the actual size */
}
/****** Poetry ******/
.lgouter
{
 margin-left: auto;
 margin-right: auto;
 display:table; /* used to make the block shrink to the actual size */
}
.lg
{
 text-align: left;
}
.lg h4, .lgouter h4
{
 font-weight: normal;
}
.lg .linenum
{
 color:#777;
 font-size:90%;
 left:-2.5em;
 margin:0;
 position:absolute;
 text-align:center;
 text-indent:0;
 top:auto;
 width:1.75em;
}
p.line
{
 margin: 0 0% 0 0%;
}
span.hemistich /* invisible text to achieve visual effect of hemistich indentation. */
{
 color: white;
}
.versenum
{
 font-weight:bold;
}
/***** Drama *****/
.speaker
{
 font-weight: bold;
 margin-bottom: 0.4em;
}
.sp .line
{
 margin: 0 10%;
 text-align: left;
}
/***** End Drama *****/
/* right aligned page number in table of contents */
.tocPagenum, .flushright
{
 position: absolute;
 right: 16%;
 top: auto;
}
.footnotes .line
{
 font-size:80%;
}
span.corr
{
 border-bottom:1px dotted red;
}
span.abbr
{
 border-bottom:1px dotted gray;
}
span.measure
{
 border-bottom:1px dotted green;
}
/****** Font Styles and Colors *****/
.letterspaced
{
 letter-spacing:0.2em;
}
.smallcaps
{
 font-variant:small-caps;
}
.caps
{
 text-transform:uppercase;
}
.fraktur
{
 font-family: 'Walbaum-Fraktur';
}
.rm
{
 font-style: normal;
}
.red
{
 color: red;
}
/***** End Font Styles and Colors *****/
hr
{
 clear:both;
 height:1px;
 margin-left:auto;
 margin-right:auto;
 margin-top:1em;
 text-align:center;
 width:45%;
}
h2.docImprint,h1.docTitle,h2.byline,h2.docTitle,.aligncenter,div.figure
{
 text-align:center;
}
h1,h2
{
 font-size:1.44em;
 line-height:1.5em;
}
h1.label,h2.label
{
 font-size:1.2em;
 line-height:1.2em;
 margin-bottom:0;
}
h5,h6
{
 font-size:1em;
 font-style:italic;
 line-height:1em;
}
p,p.initial
{
 text-indent:0;
}
p.firstlinecaps:first-line
{
 text-transform: uppercase;
}
p.dropcap:first-letter
{
 float: left;
 clear: left;
 margin: 0em 0.05em 0 0;
 padding: 0px;
 line-height: 0.8em;
 font-size: 420%;
 vertical-align:super;
}
.lg
{
 padding: .5em 0% .5em 0%;
}
p.quote,div.blockquote,div.argument
{
 font-size:0.9em;
 line-height:1.2em;
 margin:1.58em 5%;
}
.pagenum a, a.noteref:hover, a.hidden:hover, a.hidden
{
 text-decoration:none;
}
ul { list-style-type: disc; }
ol { list-style-type: decimal; }
ol.AL { list-style-type: lower-alpha; }
ol.AU { list-style-type: upper-alpha; }
ol.RU { list-style-type: upper-roman; }
ol.RL { list-style-type: lower-roman; }
.lsdisc { list-style-type: disc; }
.lsoff { list-style-type: none; }
.castlist, .castitem { list-style-type: none; }
/***** External Links *****/
.pglink
{
 background: url(images/book.png) center right no-repeat;
 padding-right: 18px;
}
.exlink
{
 background: url(images/external.png) center right no-repeat;
 padding-right: 13px;
}
.pglink:hover
{
 background-color: #DCFFDC;
}
.exlink:hover
{
 background-color: #FFDCDC;
}
 /* Supplement CSS stylesheet "style/arctic.css.xml
 " */
body
{
 background: #FFFFFF;
 font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif;
}
body, a.hidden
{
 color: black;
}
h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6, .pseudoh1, .pseudoh2, .pseudoh3, .pseudoh4
{
 color: #001FA4;
 font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;
}
p.byline
{
 font-style: italic;
 margin-bottom: 2em;
}
.figureHead, .noteref, .pseudonoteref, span.leftnote, p.legend, .versenum, .stage
{
 color: #001FA4;
}
.rightnote, .pagenum, .linenum, .pagenum a
{
 color: #AAAAAA;
}
a.hidden:hover, a.noteref:hover
{
 color: red;
}
p.dropcap:first-letter
{
 color: #001FA4;
 font-weight: bold;
}
sub, sup
{
 line-height: 0;
}
 /* Standard Aural CSS stylesheet */
.pagenum, .linenum
{
 speak: none;
}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30278 ***</div>


<div class="front">
<div class="titlePage">
<h1 class="docTitle">Friars and Filipinos</h1>

<h2 class="byline">An abridged translation of<br>
 <span class="docAuthor">Dr. Jos&eacute; Rizal&rsquo;s</span><br>
 Tagalog Novel, &ldquo;Noli Me Tangere.&rdquo;<br>
 By<br>
 Frank Ernest Gannett.</h2>

<h2 class="docImprint">New York:<br>
 The St. James Press.</h2>
</div>

<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<p class="aligncenter">Copyright, 1900,</p>

<p class="aligncenter">by</p>

<p class="aligncenter">Frank Ernest Gannett.</p>
</div>

<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<p class="aligncenter">To</p>

<p class="aligncenter"><span class="smallcaps">Jacob Gould
Schurman</span>,</p>

<p class="aligncenter">President of Cornell University. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="xd0e143" href="#xd0e143">v</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="normal">Preface.</h2>

<p>While serving on the staff of the first United States Commission to
the Philippine Islands my attention was called to the life and writings
of Dr. Jos&eacute; Rizal. I found in his novel, &ldquo;Noli Me
Tangere,&rdquo; the best picture of the life of the people of those
islands under Spanish rule, and the clearest exposition of the
governmental problems which Spain failed to solve, and with which our
own people must deal. It occurred to me that an English translation of
Rizal&rsquo;s work would be of great value at the present time. My
first intention was to reproduce the entire novel as it was written,
but, after careful consideration, I thought best to abridge the story
by the omission of some parts which did not seem essential to the main
purpose of the work. The present volume is the result.</p>

<p>Readers should not understand any of Rizal&rsquo;s references to
priests and friars as reflections upon the Roman Catholic Church. He
was throughout his life an ardent Catholic, and died a firm adherent of
the Church. But he objected to the religious orders in the Philippine
Islands, because he knew well that they were more zealous in furthering
their own selfish ends than in seeking the advancement of Christianity.
From experience, Dr. Rizal knew that the friars, under cloak of the
gospel ministry, oppressed his fellow countrymen, and took advantage of
their superstition and ignorance. These wrongs he was brave enough to
expose in his writings. In the friars he saw an obstacle to the
education and enlightenment of the Filipino people, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="xd0e151" href="#xd0e151">vi</a>]</span>and, using
moderate means, he did his utmost to secure reform. His writings will
explain to us the cause of the hatred shown by the Filipinos toward the
religious corporations, and will make clearer the nature of one of the
present problems in the Philippines.</p>

<p>There are in the Philippines five religious orders: the Dominicans,
Franciscans, Recoletos, Augustines and Jesuits. According to John
Foreman, an eminent authority, the members of all of these, except the
last named, come from the lower classes in Spain, and are on the whole
comparatively ignorant and uncultured. Under the Spanish system of
government certain provinces were assigned to each of the
orders&mdash;except the Jesuits&mdash;and the friars were distributed
among the different parishes. In the town assigned to him the friar had
much authority. He was chief adviser in all civil affairs, and, by his
influence over the superstitious natives, maintained absolute control
in all matters pertaining to the local government as well as to the
local church. So firm was his hold that he led the Spanish government
to believe that the islands could not be ruled without his aid. Knowing
that his power rested on the ignorance of the people he discouraged
education among them. When native Filipinos advanced so far as to prove
an obstacle to the religious orders, as did Rizal and many others, the
friars sought to destroy them. Forgetting their holy mission, the
religious orders became commercial corporations, amassed enormous
wealth, and gained possession of the most valuable parts of the
islands, though to much of this property the titles are not clear.</p>

<p>From my own observation, and from information derived from the
Spaniards themselves, I am convinced that the author has not overdrawn
his pictures. In fact I have learned of instances where the oppression
and practices of the friars were even worse than those described. Dr.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd0e157" href=
"#xd0e157">vii</a>]</span>Rizal has given us a portrayal of the
Filipino character from the viewpoint of the most advanced Filipino. He
brings out many facts that are pertinent to present-day questions,
showing especially the Malayan ideas of vengeance, which will put great
difficulties in the way of the pacifying of the islands by our forces.
The reader will not fail to notice the striking similarity between the
life of Ibarra, the hero, and that of Rizal, the author, a short sketch
of whose career has been given in the following pages.</p>

<p>For assistance in preparing this volume for publication I offer
sincere thanks to William H. Glasson, Ph.D., Instructor in History in
the George School, Newtown, Pa. Dr. Glasson has read the entire
manuscript and proofs, and I have been glad to avail myself of his
advice on many doubtful points. I desire also to acknowledge my
indebtedness for favors received to Horatio Green, Interpreter to the
Supreme Court of the Philippine Islands, to W. G. Richardson, of New
York, and to the publishers.</p>

<p style="text-indent:2em;">F. E. G.</p>

<p style="text-indent:2em;">Ithaca, N. Y., Dec. 1, 1900. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="xd0e165" href="#xd0e165">ix</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="toc" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="normal">Contents.</h2>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter I. <span class="tocPagenum">
Page</span></p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch1">Don Santiago&rsquo;s Dinner</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">1</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter II.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch2">At the Dinner Table</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">11</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter III.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch3">Heretic and Revolutionist</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">16</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter IV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch4">Captain Tiago</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">23</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter V.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch5">An Idyl on the Azotea</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">29</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter VI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch6">Things Philippine</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">35</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter VII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch7">San Diego and Its People</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">40</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter VIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch8">Ibarra and the Grave-Digger</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">47</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter IX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch9">Adventures of a School
Teacher</a> <span class="tocPagenum">51</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter X.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch10">Lights and Shadows</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">57</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch11">The Fishing Party</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">59</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch12">In the Woods</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">68</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch13">In the House of Tasio</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">77</span> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd0e288"
href="#xd0e288">x</a>]</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XIV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch14">The Eve of the Fiesta</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">83</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch15">As Night Comes On</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">87</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XVI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch16">The Hoisting Crane</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">92</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XVII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch17">The Banquet</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">104</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XVIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch18">The First Cloud</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">112</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XIX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch19">His Excellency</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">116</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch20">The Procession</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">125</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch21">Do&ntilde;a Consolacion</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">129</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch22">Might and Right</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">137</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch23">Two Visitors</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">145</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXIV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch24">Episode in
Espada&ntilde;a&rsquo;s Life</a> <span class="tocPagenum">
148</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch25">Schemes</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">161</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXVI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch26">The Persecuted</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">165</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXVII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch27">The Cock Fight</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">172</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXVIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch28">The Two Se&ntilde;oras</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">181</span> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd0e424"
href="#xd0e424">xi</a>]</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXIX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch29">The Enigma</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">188</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch30">The Voice of the Persecuted</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">191</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch31">Elias&rsquo;s Family</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">200</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch32">Changes</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">207</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch33">Playing Cards with the
Shades</a> <span class="tocPagenum">211</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXIV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch34">The Discovery</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">217</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXV.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch35">The Catastrophe</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">223</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXVI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch36">What People Say and Think</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">229</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXVII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch37">Vae Victis!</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">235</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXVIII.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch38">The Accursed</a> <span class=
"tocPagenum">244</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XXXIX.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch39">Maria Clara is Married</a> <span
class="tocPagenum">248</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XL.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch40">The Pursuit on the Lake</a>
<span class="tocPagenum">259</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter">Chapter XLI.</p>

<p class="tocArgument"><a href="#ch41">Father D&aacute;maso
Explains</a> <span class="tocPagenum">267</span></p>

<p class="tocChapter"><span class="smallcaps">Epilogue</span> <span
class="tocPagenum">271</span> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd0e550"
href="#xd0e550">xiii</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="normal">Jos&eacute; Rizal.</h2>

<p>Dr. Jos&eacute; Rizal, of whose &ldquo;Noli Me Tangere,&rdquo; the
following story, is an abridgement, is the most striking character to
be found in the history of the Philippine Islands. He was not only a
great martyr to the cause of liberty, and to the advancement of his
fellow men, but he was without doubt the greatest Filipino ever born,
and his memory is cherished to-day by his people as we ourselves
cherish the memory of Washington.</p>

<p>Rizal was born on June 19th, 1861, in the pueblo of Calamba, in the
province of Laguna, on the Island of Luzon. He came of a Tagalog
family, which, it is said, acknowledged a slight mixture of Chinese
blood, and possessed considerable property. As a child he gave evidence
of extraordinary precocity. He is said to have written poetry in his
native tongue at eight years of age, produced a successful melodrama at
fourteen, and later to have won prizes in literary contests with
writers of recognized ability.</p>

<p>After passing through the University of Manila, and receiving much
instruction at the hands of the Jesuit fathers, he was sent to Europe
to complete his education. He pursued courses of study in Spanish and
German universities, and won the degrees of Doctor of Medicine and
Doctor of Philosophy. Besides acquiring a knowledge of seven languages
he gained a brilliant reputation for proficiency in the branch of
optical surgery. For a time he was the leading assistant in the office
of a world-renowned specialist at Vienna.</p>

<p>While in Europe Rizal wrote several books and also <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="xd0e562" href="#xd0e562">xiv</a>]</span>gave
considerable time to sculpture and painting. His artistic ability was
great, and some of his productions are now treasured by friends into
whose possession they came. Rizal&rsquo;s best known work is his
&ldquo;Noli Me Tangere,&rdquo; written in Belgium about 1886 or 1887.
This novel, with its vivid picture of life in the Philippines, and its
exposure of Spanish misrule and oppression, won for him the bitter
hatred of the friars, and inspired the relentless persecution which
only ended with the taking of his life.</p>

<p>In 1889 Dr. Rizal returned to the Philippines, but was soon
compelled to leave his native land in order to escape forcible
banishment. After a short residence in Japan, he went to London, where
he published a work on the History of the Philippine Islands. About the
same time a sequel to &ldquo;Noli Me Tangere,&rdquo; entitled &ldquo;El
Filibusterismo,&rdquo; was published. The hatred of the priests against
him was further inflamed by this production, and the government in
Manila was forced by the friars to forbid the circulation of any of his
writings. Copies of his novels were burned in the public squares, and
it was worth one&rsquo;s life to be found possessing a copy. Until very
recently it has been almost impossible to obtain a copy of
Rizal&rsquo;s works, and it was necessary to go to Europe to secure the
one from which the following abridged translation was made.</p>

<p>In 1892 Dr. Rizal was so overcome with a desire to see again his
beautiful fatherland that he ventured, in the face of all the dangers
that threatened him, to return to Manila. He had scarcely set foot on
shore, however, before he was arrested and thrown in prison. The friars
demanded his execution on the ground that he carried incendiary
leaflets for the purpose of stirring up a rebellion, but subsequent
inquiries showed that such leaflets <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"xd0e568" href="#xd0e568">xv</a>]</span>had been introduced into his
baggage at the custom house through the intrigues of the Augustine
friars. Despite his indignant protestations of innocence; Rizal was
summarily condemned by the Spanish General, Despujols, to banishment at
Dapitan in the island of Mindanao. Although the trickery of the friars
became known to him, Despujols lacked courage to revoke his order of
banishment, for fear that he, too, would incur the hatred of the
powerful religious corporations.</p>

<p>After four years of exile Rizal saw plainly that the hostility of
the friars would make it impossible for him to live in his native land.
In 1896 a plague of yellow fever broke out in the island of Cuba and
Rizal volunteered to lend his medical services to the Spanish
government. Ramon Blanco, then general-in-chief of the Spanish forces
in the Philippines, accepted the generous offer and recalled the young
man to Manila that he might sail at once for Cuba. Alarmed by
demonstrations of popular affection for Rizal, who represented the
aspirations of the Filipino people, the Spanish authorities broke faith
with him and imprisoned him in the Fuerza de Santiago. He was arraigned
on false charges, given a military trial, and at the dictation of the
religious orders was sentenced to be shot as a traitor.</p>

<p>At dawn on December 30th, 1896, he was led to the place of execution
on the beautiful Luneta, overlooking the tranquil surface of Manila
Bay. Notices of the event had been published throughout the islands and
the day on which it was to occur was proclaimed a fiesta. Thousands
gathered around the place selected, and so evident was the sympathy of
the helpless Filipinos for the man who was to die for their sake that
Spain marshalled ten regiments of her soldiers about the spot. The
populace must be intimidated. A nation&rsquo;s hero was about to become
a nation&rsquo;s martyr. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd0e574" href=
"#xd0e574">xvi</a>]</span>With face uplifted he glanced at the
multitude about him and smiled. They tied his arms behind him and made
him face the waters of the bay. In vain he protested and begged that he
might die facing his executioners. A squad of his fellow countrymen,
who were serving in Spain&rsquo;s army, were selected for the bloody
work. They drew in position to shoot him in the back. The order was
given to fire, but only one had the courage to obey. The bullet went
straight and the hero fell, but another shot was necessary to despatch
his life. His newly wedded wife remained with him to the end. The best
hope of the Filipino people was crushed; a light in a dark place was
snuffed out.</p>

<p>Rizal was no extremist, no believer in harsh and bloody methods, no
revolutionist. He aimed to secure moderate and reasonable reforms, to
lessen the oppressive exactions of the friars, to examine into titles
of their land, and to make possible the education and uplifting of his
people. He loved Spain as he did his own country, and repeatedly used
his influence against the rebellious measures proposed by other
Filipino leaders. His execution was only one of the numerous outrages
which characterized Spain&rsquo;s reign in the Philippines.</p>

<p>In closing this short sketch of Rizal&rsquo;s life we can do no
better than to quote the estimate of him made by Dr. Ferdinand
Blumentritt, professor in the University of Leitmeritz, Austria, who
prepared a biographical sketch of Rizal. Dr. Blumentritt said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Not only is Rizal the most prominent man of his own people,
but the greatest man the Malayan race has produced. His memory will
never perish in his fatherland, and future generations of Spaniards
will yet learn to utter his name with respect and reverence.&rdquo;</p>
</div>
</div>

<div class="body"><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb1" href=
"#pb1">1</a>]</span>
<div id="ch1" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="super">Friars and Filipinos.</h2>

<h2 class="label">Chapter I.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Don Santiago&rsquo;s Dinner.</h2>

<p>In the latter part of October, Don Santiago de los Santos, popularly
known as Captain Tiago, gave a dinner. Though, contrary to his custom,
he had not announced it until the afternoon of the day on which it was
to occur, the dinner became at once the absorbing topic of conversation
in Binondo, in the other suburbs of Manila, and even in the walled
city. Captain Tiago was generally considered a most liberal man, and
his house, like his country, shut its doors to no one, whether bent on
pleasure or on the development of some new and daring scheme.</p>

<p>The dinner was given in the captain&rsquo;s house in Analoague
street. The building is of ordinary size, of the style of architecture
common to the country, and is situated on that arm of the Pasig called
by some Binondo Creek. This, like all the streams in Manila, satisfies
a multitude of needs. It serves for bathing, mortar-mixing, laundering,
fishing, means of transportation and communication, and even for
drinking water, when the Chinese water-carriers find it convenient to
use it for that purpose. Although the most important artery of the
busiest part of the town, where the roar of commerce is loudest and
traffic most congested, the stream is, for a distance of a mile,
crossed by only one wooden bridge. During six months of the year, one
end of this bridge is out of order, and the other end is impassable
during the remaining time.</p>

<p>The house is low and somewhat out of plumb. No one, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb2" href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>however, knows whether
the faulty lines of the building are due to a defect in the sight of
the architect who constructed it, or whether they are the result of
earthquakes and hurricanes.</p>

<p>A wide staircase, with green balustrades and carpeted here and there
in spots, leads from the <i>zaguan</i>, or tiled entrance hall, to the
second story of the house. On either side of this staircase is a row of
flower-pots and vases, placed upon chinaware pedestals, brilliant in
coloring and fantastic in design. Upstairs, we enter a spacious hall,
which is, in these islands, called <i>caida</i>. This serves to-night
for the dining hall. In the middle of the room is a large table,
profusely and richly ornamented, fairly groaning under the weight of
delicacies.</p>

<p>In direct contrast to these worldly preparations are the motley
colored religious pictures on the walls&mdash;such subjects as
&ldquo;Purgatory,&rdquo; &ldquo;Hell,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Last
Judgment,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Death of the Just,&rdquo; and &ldquo;The
Death of the Sinner.&rdquo; Below these, in a beautiful renaissance
frame, is a large, curious linen engraving of two old ladies. The
picture bears the inscription &ldquo;Our Lady of Peace, Propitious to
Travellers, Venerated in Antipolo, Visiting in the Guise of a Beggar
the Pious Wife of the Famous Captain In&eacute;s in Her
Sickness.&rdquo; In the side of the room toward the river, Captain
Tiago has arranged fantastic wooden arches, half Chinese, half
European, through which one can pass to the roof which covers part of
the first story. This roof serves as a veranda, and has been
illuminated with Chinese lanterns in many colors and made into a pretty
little arbor or garden. The <i>sala</i> or principal room of the house,
where the guests assembled is resplendent with colossal mirrors and
brilliant chandeliers, and, upon a platform of pine, is a costly piano
of the finest workmanship.</p>

<p>People almost filled this room, the men keeping on one side and the
women on the other, as though they were in a Catholic church or a
synagogue. Among the women were a number of young girls, both native
and Spanish. Occasionally one of them forgot herself and yawned, but
immediately sought to conceal it by covering her mouth with her fan.
Conversation was carried <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb3" href=
"#pb3">3</a>]</span>on in a low voice and died away in vague
mono-syllables, like the indistinct noises heard by night in a large
mansion.</p>

<p>An elderly woman with a kindly face, a cousin of Captain Tiago,
received the ladies. She spoke Spanish regardless of all the
grammatical rules, and her courtesies consisted in offering to the
Spanish ladies cigarettes and betel nut (neither of which they use) and
in kissing the hands of the native women after the manner of the
friars. Finally the poor old lady was completely exhausted, and, taking
advantage of a distant crash occasioned by the breaking of a plate,
hurried off precipitately to investigate, murmuring:
&ldquo;<i>Jes&uacute;s!</i> Just wait, you
good-for-nothings!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Among the men there was somewhat more animation. In one corner of
the room were some cadets, who chatted with some show of interest, but
in a low voice. From time to time they surveyed the crowd and indicated
to each other different persons, meanwhile laughing more or less
affectedly.</p>

<p>The only people who appeared to be really enjoying themselves were
two friars, two citizens and an officer of the army who formed a group
around a small table, on which were bottles of wine and English
biscuits. The officer was old, tall and sunburnt, and looked as the
Duke of Alva might have looked, had he been reduced to a command in the
civil guard. He said little, but what he did say was short and to the
point. One of the friars was a young Dominican, handsome and dressed
with extreme nicety. He wore gold mounted spectacles and preserved the
extreme gravity of youth. The other friar, however, who was a
Franciscan, talked a great deal and gesticulated even more. Although
his hair was getting gray, he seemed to be well preserved and in robust
health. His splendid figure, keen glance, square jaw and herculean form
gave him the appearance of a Roman patrician in disguise. He was gay
and talked briskly, like one who is not afraid to speak out. Brusque
though his words might be, his merry laugh removed any disagreeable
impression.</p>

<p>As to the citizens, one of them was small in stature <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb4" href="#pb4">4</a>]</span>and wore a black beard,
his most noticeable feature being his large nose&mdash;so large that
you could scarcely believe that it was all his own. The other was a
young blonde, apparently a recent arrival in the country. The latter
was carrying on a lively discussion with the Franciscan.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You will see,&rdquo; said the friar, &ldquo;when you have
been in the country a few months, and will be convinced that what I say
is right. It is one thing to govern in Madrid and another to rule in
the Philippines.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I, for example,&rdquo; continued Father D&aacute;maso,
raising his voice to prevent the other from speaking, &ldquo;I, who can
point to my twenty-three years of existence on bananas and rice, can
speak with some authority on this subject. Do not come to me with
theories or arguments, for I know the native. Remember, that when I
came to this country, I was sent to a parish, small and largely devoted
to agriculture. I did not understand Tagalog very well, but I received
the confessions of the women and we managed to understand each other.
In fact, they came to think so much of me that three years afterward,
when I was sent to another and larger town, where a vacancy had been
created by the death of the native parish priest, all the women were in
tears. They overwhelmed me with presents, they saw me off with bands of
music&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But this only shows&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Wait, wait! Do not be in a hurry! My successor remained there
a still shorter time, but when he left there were more people to see
him off, more tears shed, and more music played, although he had
treated the people worse than I, and had raised the parish dues to a
sum almost double the amount I had exacted.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But allow me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Furthermore, I was twenty years in the town of San Diego and
it was only a few months ago&mdash;that&mdash;that I left. Twenty
years! Surely any one will admit that twenty years is time enough to
get acquainted with a town. There were six thousand people in San
Diego, and I knew every one of them as if he were my own <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb5" href="#pb5">5</a>]</span>child. I knew even the
private affairs of them all; I knew in what way this man was
&lsquo;crooked,&rsquo; where the shoe pinched that one, what slips
every girl had made and with whom, and who was the true father of each
child, for I received all of their confessions and they always
confessed scrupulously. I can prove what I say by Santiago, our host,
for he has considerable property in that town, and it was there that we
became friends. Well, then! This will show you what sort of people the
natives are: when I went away, only a few old women and some lay
brothers saw me off. And that, after I had been there twenty years!
Don&rsquo;t you see that this proves beyond a doubt that all the
reforms attempted by the Ministers of the Government in Madrid are
perfectly absurd?&rdquo;</p>

<p>It was now the young man&rsquo;s turn to be perplexed. The
lieutenant, who had been listening to the argument, knit his brows. The
little man with the black beard made ready to combat or support Father
D&aacute;maso&rsquo;s arguments, while the Dominican was content to
remain entirely neutral.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But do you believe&mdash;&mdash;,&rdquo; the young man
finally asked in a curious mood, and looking straight at the friar.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do I believe it? As I do the Gospel! The native is so
indolent!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! Pardon me for interrupting you,&rdquo; said the young
blonde, lowering his voice and drawing his chair closer, &ldquo;but you
have spoken a word that arouses my interest. Is this indolence an
inherent characteristic of the native, or is it true, as a foreign
traveller has said in speaking of a country whose inhabitants are of
the same race as these, that this indolence is only a fabrication to
excuse our own laziness, our backwardness and the faults of our
celestial system?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bah! That is nothing but envy! Ask Se&ntilde;or Laruja, who
knows this country very well, whether the native has his equal in the
world for indolence and ignorance.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is a fact,&rdquo; replied the little man referred to,
&ldquo;that <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb6" href=
"#pb6">6</a>]</span>nowhere in the world can any one be found more
indolent than the native. Positively nowhere!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nor more vicious and ungrateful!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nor with less education!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Somewhat uneasy, the blonde man began to glance about the room.
&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he said in a low voice, &ldquo;I believe that
we are in the house of a native, and these young ladies
may&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bah! Don&rsquo;t be so sensitive. How long have you been in
the country?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Four days,&rdquo; answered the young man somewhat
ruffled.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you come here as an employee?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, sir. I came on my own account in order to become
acquainted with the country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Man, what a rare bird you are!&rdquo; exclaimed Father
D&aacute;maso, looking at him with curiosity. &ldquo;To come here on
your own account for such foolish ends! What a phenomenon! And when so
many books have been written about this
country&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then, striking the arm of his chair with sudden violence, he
exclaimed: &ldquo;The country is being lost; it is lost already. The
governing power supports heretics against the ministers of
God.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; again asked the lieutenant, half
rising from his chair.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do I mean?&rdquo; repeated Father D&aacute;maso, again
raising his voice, and facing the lieutenant. &ldquo;I mean what I say.
I mean that, when a priest turns away the corpse of a heretic from his
cemetery, no one, not even the King himself, has the right to
interfere, and still less to punish. And yet a general, a miserable
little general&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father! His Excellency is the vice-regal representative of
His Majesty the King!&rdquo; exclaimed the officer, rising to his
feet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do I care for His Excellency, or for any of your
vice-regal representatives!&rdquo; answered the Franciscan, rising in
his turn. &ldquo;In any other time than the present, he would have been
thrown down stairs in the same way as the religious corporations
treated the sacrilegious <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb7" href=
"#pb7">7</a>]</span>governor Bustamente in his time. Those were the
days when there was faith!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you right here that I don&rsquo;t allow
any&mdash;His Excellency represents His Majesty the King!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care whether he is king or rogue. For us there
is no king other than the true&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Stop this immediately!&rdquo; shouted the lieutenant in a
threatening manner, and as though he were commanding his own soldiers.
&ldquo;Take back what you have said, or to-morrow I shall inform His
Excellency.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go and tell him at once! Go tell him!&rdquo; answered Father
D&aacute;maso, sarcastically, at the same time approaching the
lieutenant with his fists doubled. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think for a
moment that, because I wear the dress of a monk, I&rsquo;m not a man.
Hurry! Go tell him! I&rsquo;ll lend you my carriage.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The discussion began to grow ridiculous as the speakers became more
heated, but, at this point, fortunately, the Dominican interfered.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen!&rdquo; he said in a tone of authority, and with
that nasal twang which is so characteristic of the friars, &ldquo;there
is no reason why you should thus confuse matters or take offense where
it is not intended. We should distinguish between what Father
D&aacute;maso says as a man, and what he says as a priest. Whatever he
may say as a priest cannot be offensive, for the words of a priest are
understood to be absolutely true.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But I understand what his motives are, Father Sibyla!&rdquo;
interrupted the lieutenant, who saw that he would be drawn into a net
of such fine distinction that, if he allowed it to go on, Father
D&aacute;maso would get off scot free. &ldquo;I know very well what his
motives are, and Your Reverence will also perceive them. During the
absence of Father D&aacute;maso from San Diego, his assistant buried
the body of a very worthy person. Yes, sir, an extremely worthy person!
I had known the man from time to time and had often been his guest.
What if he never had been to confession? I do not confess, either. To
say that he committed suicide is a lie, a slander. A man such as he,
with a son whose success and love were more than all the world to him;
a man <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb8" href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>who
believed in God, who fulfilled his duty to society, who was honorable
and just&mdash;such a man does not commit suicide. That is what I say!
I am not telling you all that I think about this matter, and Your
Reverence should be very thankful that I restrain myself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Turning his back on the Franciscan, he continued: &ldquo;As I was
saying, this priest, when he returned to the town, after maltreating
his coadjutor, ordered that the man&rsquo;s body be taken up and thrown
out of the cemetery, to be buried I know not where. The town of San
Diego was too cowardly to protest, though, in fact, very few people
knew much about the matter. The dead man had no relatives in the town
and his only son was in Europe. His Excellency, however, learned about
the affair, and being at heart upright and just, he ordered that the
priest be punished. As a result, Father D&aacute;maso was transferred
to another but better town. That is all there was to it. Now you can
make all the distinctions you like.&rdquo;</p>

<p>So saying, he left the group.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am very sorry to have touched upon so delicate a
subject,&rdquo; said Father Sibyla, &ldquo;but, after all, if the
change from one town to another was to your
advantage&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How could it be to my advantage? How about all the things
that I lost?&rdquo; interrupted Father D&aacute;maso, fairly boiling
over with rage.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Good evening, gentlemen! Good evening, Father!&rdquo; said
Captain Santiago, who at that instant entered the room, leading a youth
by the hand. On saluting his guests in this manner, he kissed the hands
of the priests, who, by the way, forgot to give him their blessing. The
Dominican took off his gold-rimmed spectacles in order to examine the
new arrival at better advantage, while Father D&aacute;maso, turning
pale at the sight, stared at the youth with eyes wide open.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisostomo Ibarra,
the son of my deceased friend,&rdquo; said Captain Tiago. &ldquo;The
young man has just arrived from Europe, and I have been to meet
him.&rdquo; At the mere mention of the name, exclamations were heard in
all parts of the room. The lieutenant, forgetting himself <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb9" href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>entirely, did not stop
to salute his host, but at once approached the young man and surveyed
him from head to foot. The youth exchanged the usual greetings with
those who had gathered around him. He showed no striking peculiarity,
except in his sombre dress, which was in deep contrast with that of the
other persons present. His athletic build, his appearance, and every
movement he made showed, however, that a fine mind and a healthy body
had both been highly developed. You could see from his frank and
vivacious face that he had Spanish blood in his veins. Although his
hair, eyes and complexion were dark, his cheeks had a slight color,
due, no doubt, to residence in cold countries.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; he exclaimed with glad surprise, &ldquo;the
parish priest of my own town! Father D&aacute;maso, my father&rsquo;s
intimate friend!&rdquo; Every one in the room looked at the Franciscan,
but the latter made no motion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You must excuse me, if I have made a mistake,&rdquo; added
Ibarra, somewhat in doubt because of the apathy of the friar.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have made no mistake,&rdquo; the priest finally answered
in a strained voice, &ldquo;but your father was never an intimate
friend of mine.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra slowly withdrew the hand which he had offered, looking at the
friar with great surprise. As he turned about, he came face to face
with the lieutenant just approaching.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My boy, are you the son of Don Rafael Ibarra?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man bowed in acquiescence. Father D&aacute;maso settled
back into his arm-chair and fixed his eyes upon the lieutenant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Welcome to your country! May you be more happy in it than was
your father!&rdquo; exclaimed the officer in a trembling voice.
&ldquo;I had many dealings with your father and I knew him well, and I
can say that he was one of the most worthy and honorable men in the
Philippines.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; replied Ibarra with emotion, &ldquo;your praise
of my father puts me in doubt as to his fate. Even now I, his own son,
am ignorant of it all.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The eyes of the old man filled with tears. He turned <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb10" href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>and hurriedly
withdrew. Ibarra found himself standing alone in the middle of the
room. His host had disappeared, and he turned to a group of gentlemen,
who, as soon as they saw him coming, formed a semicircle to receive
him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;in Germany, when a stranger
attends any social function and there is no one present to introduce
him, it is allowable for him to introduce himself. Permit me to avail
myself of this practice. Gentlemen, my name is Juan Crisostomo Ibarra y
Magsalin.&rdquo; The others gave their names in turn, of which the most
were comparatively unknown.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My name is A&mdash;&mdash;a,&rdquo; said one of the young
men, bowing stiffly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, perhaps, I have the honor of addressing the poet whose
works have kept up my enthusiasm for my country? I have been told that
you have stopped writing, but no one has told me why.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why? Because there is no use in invoking the muses for false
and foolish ends. A case has been made out against one man for having
put into verse a true story of Pero Grullo. I am not going to get
myself into a similar scrape. They may call me a poet, but they shall
not call me a fool.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And can you not tell us what that true story was?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes. The poet said that the son of a lion is also a lion, and
for saying this he narrowly escaped being banished.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Dinner is ready,&rdquo; announced a waiter who had been
borrowed from the C&aacute;f&eacute; Campa&ntilde;a. The guests began
to file into the dining room, not, however, without many sighs, and
even some prayers among the women, especially the natives, that the
dreaded affair would soon be over. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb11"
href="#pb11">11</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch2" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter II.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">At the Dinner Table.</h2>

<p>Father Sibyla wore a satisfied air. He moved along tranquilly, and
his closed, thin lips showed no signs of disdain. On the other hand,
the Franciscan was in a very bad humor. As he walked toward the table,
he kicked over the chairs which happened to be in his way and boxed the
ears of one of the cadets. The lieutenant was very solemn and
grave.</p>

<p>The two friars instinctively started for the head of the table,
perhaps by force of habit, and, as might have been expected, they met
on opposite sides of the same chair. Then, with ponderous courtesy,
each entreated the other to sit down, giving in turn his reasons why
the other should take precedence. Every one at the table understood how
both really felt in the matter, and all knew well that the one who did
not take the coveted seat would grumble discontentedly for the
remainder of the evening. The farce proceeded something like this:</p>

<p>&ldquo;You take it, Brother D&aacute;maso! It is for you!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, you take it, Brother Sibyla!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are an old friend of the family, the confessor of its
deepest mysteries; your age, your dignity,
your&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the other
hand you are the priest of this suburb,&rdquo; answered Father
D&aacute;maso in an insincere tone, without, however, leaving the
chair.</p>

<p>&ldquo;As you order it, I obey,&rdquo; concluded Father Sibyla,
making ready to sit down.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But I do not order it,&rdquo; protested the Franciscan,
&ldquo;I do not <i>order</i> it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father Sibyla was about to take the seat without any further regard
to the protests of his brother, when his eyes chanced to meet those of
the lieutenant. According to the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb12"
href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>religious customs in the Philippines, the
highest military officer is inferior to even a convent cook. &ldquo;<i
lang="la">Cedent arma tog&aelig;</i>,&rdquo; said Cicero in the Senate.
&ldquo;<i lang="la">Cedent arma cott&aelig;</i>,&rdquo; say the friars
in the Philippines. Father Sibyla, however, was a person of some
culture and refinement, and, as soon as he noticed the expression on
the lieutenant&rsquo;s face, said: &ldquo;Here! We are now out in the
world, and not in the Church. This seat belongs to you,
lieutenant!&rdquo; But, to judge from the tone of his voice, he thought
that, although he was out in the world and not in the Church, the seat
nevertheless belonged to him. The lieutenant, either to save himself
trouble or in order to avoid sitting between two friars, declined the
honor in a very few words.</p>

<p>Neither of the disputants had thought of the owner of the house.
Ibarra saw him looking upon the scene and smiling with
satisfaction.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How is this, Don Santiago! Aren&rsquo;t you going to sit down
with us?&rdquo;</p>

<p>But all of the seats were already occupied, and Lucullus did not
dine in the house of Lucullus.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Sit still! Don&rsquo;t get up!&rdquo; said Captain Tiago,
laying his hand on the young man&rsquo;s shoulder. &ldquo;The fact is
that this feast is given in honor of the Virgin on account of your safe
arrival. Here! Bring on the <i>tinola</i>! I ordered some <i>tinola</i>
made expressly for you, for I feel quite certain that you have not had
any since you left the Philippines a long while ago.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A large dish was brought in, still steaming and filled to the brim
with <i>tinola</i>. The Dominican, after murmuring the <i>
Benedicite</i> (to which only a few of those present could give the
response), began to serve the contents of the dish. Either from
carelessness or for some other reason, he passed to Father
D&aacute;maso a plate filled with the soup and stew, but containing
only two small pieces of chicken, a bony neck and a tough wing.
Meanwhile the others, especially Ibarra, were eating all sorts of
choice bits. The Franciscan, of course, noticed this, mussed over the
stew, took a mouthful of the soup, dropped his spoon with a clatter
into his plate, and pushed the dish to one side. While this was going
on, the Dominican appeared to be absorbed in conversation with the
young <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb13" href=
"#pb13">13</a>]</span>blonde. Se&ntilde;or Laruja had also begun to
converse with Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How long has it been since you were last in this
country?&rdquo; said he.</p>

<p>&ldquo;About seven years,&rdquo; responded Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You must have forgotten all about it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;On the contrary, although my country seems to have forgotten
me, I have always kept her in mind.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; interposed the blonde.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I mean that for over a year I have not received any news from
here, so that now I feel like a total stranger. I do not yet know how
or when my father died.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the lieutenant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Where have you been that you did not telegraph?&rdquo; asked
one of the ladies. &ldquo;When I was married, we telegraphed to the
Peninsula.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;ora, for the last two years I have been in northern
Europe, in Germany and in Poland.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what country of Europe do you like best?&rdquo; asked the
young blonde, who had been listening interestedly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;After Spain, which is my second fatherland, oh&mdash;any free
country in Europe.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You seem to have travelled a great deal&mdash;what is the
most remarkable thing that you have observed?&rdquo; asked Laruja.</p>

<p>Ibarra appeared to be reflecting on the question. &ldquo;Remarkable?
In what way?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;For instance, in the life of the different
peoples,&mdash;their social, political and religious
life&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra meditated for some little time. &ldquo;I always made it a
point to study the history of a country before visiting it, and I find
that national development invariably follows perfectly natural rules. I
have always noticed that the prosperity or poverty of different peoples
is in direct proportion to their liberties or their lack of liberty,
or, in other words, in proportion to the sacrifices or selfishness of
their forefathers.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And is that all you have observed?&rdquo; asked the
Franciscan, with a loud laugh. Up to this time, he had not uttered a
single word, but had given his attention to the dinner. &ldquo;It was
not worth while to squander your fortune <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb14" href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>for the purpose of learning such a
trifle&mdash;a thing that every school boy knows.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him intently, doubtful what to say. The guests
glanced at each other, fearing that a quarrel would break out.
&ldquo;The dinner has been too long, and Your Reverence is affected by
too much wine,&rdquo; Ibarra was about to reply, but he checked himself
in time and only said: &ldquo;Gentlemen, do not wonder at the
familiarity with which our old parish priest treats me. He treated me
this way when I was a child, and the years that have passed since then
have not changed His Reverence. I derive a certain amount of pleasure
from it, for I am reminded of those days when His Reverence was a
frequent visitor at our house and honored my father&rsquo;s
table.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Dominican glanced furtively at the Franciscan, who was
trembling. Ibarra continued, rising from his chair: &ldquo;You will
allow me to withdraw, for I have only just arrived, and I must leave
town to-morrow. Besides, I have a great many things to do before I
leave. The dinner is practically finished, and I drink very little wine
and scarcely touch spirits. Gentlemen, here&rsquo;s to Spain and the
Philippines.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Saying this, he emptied the glass, which, until then, he had not
touched. The old lieutenant followed his example, but said nothing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not go!&rdquo; said Captain Tiago to him in a low voice.
&ldquo;Maria Clara is coming immediately. Isabel has just gone to get
her. The new parish priest of your town is also coming, and he is a
saint.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I shall come to-morrow before I leave. I have to make a most
important visit yet to-night, and really must go!&rdquo; With this he
took his departure. In the meantime, the Franciscan had recovered
himself.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You see how it is,&rdquo; said he to the young blonde,
gesticulating with his dessert knife. &ldquo;It is nothing but pride.
He could not bear to have a priest reprove him. Can decent people
believe it? This is the evil consequence of sending young men to
Europe. The Government ought to prohibit it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>That night, the young blonde wrote, among other things, in the first
chapter of his &ldquo;Colonial Studies&rdquo;: &ldquo;How the <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb15" href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>neck and wing
of a chicken in a friar&rsquo;s plate of <i>tinola</i> can disturb the
gayety of a feast!&rdquo; And among his other observations were the
following: &ldquo;In the Philippines the most insignificant person at a
dinner or a feast is the host. The owner of the house has only to
remain out in the street, and everything will go along beautifully. In
the present state of affairs, it would be well to forbid the Filipinos
to leave their country, and not to teach them how to read.&rdquo; <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb16" href="#pb16">16</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch3" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter III.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Heretic and Revolutionist.</h2>

<p>Ibarra was still confused, but the evening breeze, which, in Manila,
is at this time of the year always cool and refreshing, seemed gently
to lift the hazy mist which hung over his eyes. He removed his hat and
drew a deep, long breath.</p>

<p>Men of all nationalities passed by in swift carriages or in
slow-going, rented <i>calesas</i>. He was walking at that slow pace
characteristic alike of deep thought and laziness, and was making his
way toward the Plaza of Binondo. He looked about in search of any old
and familiar objects. Yes, there were the same old streets, the same
old houses with white and blue fronts, the same old walls covered with
whitewash or repainted in poor imitation of granite; there was the same
old church tower, its clock with transparent face still marking the
hours; there, too, were the old Chinese shops, with their dirty
curtains and iron rods, one of which remained unrepaired as he himself
had bent it when a boy.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Things go slowly here!&rdquo; he muttered and continued up
the street past the vestry.</p>

<p>As they dished up flavored ices, the street <span class="corr" id=
"xd0e880" title="Source: venders">vendors</span> were still crying
&ldquo;sorbettes.&rdquo; The same little cocoanut oil lamps furnished
light for the stands where native women and Chinese disposed of their
sweetmeats and fruit.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is marvellous,&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;There is the
same Chinaman who was at that stand seven years ago. There is that same
old woman whom I remember so well. Why, one might think my seven years
in Europe but a night&rsquo;s sleep. And, by heavens, they have not yet
repaired this broken place in the pavement!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Indeed, the stone which had been torn out of the pavement before he
left Manila had not yet been replaced. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb17" href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>While he was meditating upon the
wonderful stability of things in so unstable a country, some one placed
a hand upon his shoulder. With a start he looked up, and his eyes met
those of the old lieutenant, who also had left the Captain&rsquo;s
house. A smile had displaced the officer&rsquo;s usual harsh expression
and characteristic frown.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Be careful, young man!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Remember what
happened to your father!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon. You seem to have esteemed my father very
highly. Can you tell me what has been his fate?&rdquo; asked Ibarra,
gazing intently into the lieutenant&rsquo;s eyes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you not know?&rdquo; said the officer.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I asked Don Santiago, but he said that he would tell me
nothing until to-morrow. Have you no information regarding
him?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why, yes; everybody knows about him. He died in
prison.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man stepped back and stared wildly at the officer.
&ldquo;In prison! Who died in prison?&rdquo; he asked in
astonishment.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why, your father, who had been arrested,&rdquo; answered the
officer somewhat surprised.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What! My father in prison! Arrested and imprisoned! Man, what
are you talking about? Do you know who my father was? Are
you&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo; asked the young man, nervously grasping the
officer&rsquo;s arm.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that I am mistaken: Don Rafael
Ibarra.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes. Don Rafael Ibarra,&rdquo; repeated the young man,
scarcely able to utter the words.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I thought that you knew it,&rdquo; said the officer, in a
sympathetic voice, as he saw the emotion his words had caused. &ldquo;I
thought that you knew it; but be brave. Here, you know, no man can be
honorable without being imprisoned.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I cannot believe that you are not jesting,&rdquo; replied
Ibarra, after a few minutes of deep silence. &ldquo;Can you tell me for
what offense he was imprisoned?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man paused as if to meditate. &ldquo;It seems strange to me
that you have not been kept informed as to the affairs of your
family.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb18" href=
"#pb18">18</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;My father&rsquo;s last letter, which I received a year ago,
told me not to be uneasy if he failed to write to me, for he was very
busy. He advised me to continue my studies, he sent me his
blessing&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;In that case, he must have written the letter to you shortly
before his death. It is almost a year since we buried him in his own
town.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why was my father arrested?&rdquo; asked Ibarra in a voice
full of emotion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The cause of his arrest was an honorable one. I must go to my
quarters now; walk along with me and then I can tell you on the way.
Take my arm.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They walked for some time in melancholy silence. Deep in thought and
nervously stroking his goatee, the officer sought inspiration before he
could begin the pitiful tale.</p>

<p>&ldquo;As you very well know,&rdquo; he at last began, &ldquo;your
father was the richest man in the province, and, although he was loved
and highly respected by many, there were some envious persons who hated
him. Your father had a great many enemies among the priests and the
Spaniards. Some months after your departure, trouble arose between Don
Rafael and Father D&aacute;maso, but I do not know what it was all
about. Father D&aacute;maso accused your father of not attending
confession. In former times, however, he had never attended confession.
Nothing was said about it, and he and the priest were good friends, as
you will remember. Furthermore, Don Rafael was a very honorable man and
much more upright and just than many who go to confession regularly. He
was very conscientious, and, in speaking to me in regard to his
troubles with Father D&aacute;maso, used to say:</p>

<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Se&ntilde;or Guevara, do you believe that God will
forgive a crime, a murder for instance, simply because that crime has
been confessed to a priest&mdash;confessed to a man who is in duty
bound to keep it secret? Will God pardon a man whose repentance is
brought about by his cowardly fear of hell? I have a very different
opinion of God. I cannot see how one evil can be corrected by another,
nor how pardon can be procured by mere idle tears and donations to the
Church.&rsquo; Your father always followed the strictest rules of
morality. I may safely say that he never harmed <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb19" href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>any one, but, on the contrary,
always sought by doing good to offset certain unjust deeds committed by
your grandfathers. However, his troubles with the priests continued and
took on a dangerous aspect. Father D&aacute;maso alluded to him from
the pulpit, and, if he did not do so directly by name, it was an
oversight on his part, for anything might be expected from a man of his
character. I foresaw that sooner or later the affair would have a bad
ending.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old lieutenant paused for a few minutes and then continued:
&ldquo;About this time there came to the province a man who had been in
the artillery, but had been thrown out of the ranks on account of his
brutality and ignorance. This man had to make a livelihood. He was not
allowed to engage in the work of an ordinary laborer, since that might
damage Spain&rsquo;s prestige, but somehow obtained the position of
collector of taxes on vehicles. He had no education whatever, and the
natives soon found it out. A Spaniard who cannot read and write is a
wonder to them, and hence he became the subject of all sorts of
ridicule. Knowing that he was being laughed at, he became ashamed to
collect his taxes. This had a bad effect on his character, which was
already bad enough. People used to give him documents upside down to
see him pretend to read them. He would make a show of doing so, and
then, on the first blank space he found, would fill in some sprawling
characters which, I may say, represented him very accurately. The
natives continued to pay their taxes, but kept on ridiculing him. He
fairly raved with anger and worked himself up to such a frame of mind
that he respected none. Finally, he had some words with your father. It
happened that one day, while the collector was studying a document
which had been given to him in a store, some school boys came along.
One of them called the attention of his companions to the collector,
and they all began to laugh and point their fingers at the unhappy man.
The collector finally lost his patience, turned quickly and chased his
tormentors. The boys, of course, ran in all directions, at the same
time mimicking a child learning the alphabet. Blind with rage because
he could not reach them, he threw his cane, struck one of the boys on
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb20" href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>the head
and knocked him down. Not content with this, he went up and kicked the
boy several times. Unfortunately, your father happened to be passing
just at the moment. Indignant at what he saw, he seized the tax
collector by the arm and severely reproached him for his actions. The
tax collector in anger raised his cane to strike, but your father was
too quick for him. With that strength which he inherited from his
forefathers, he, as some say, struck the collector, or, as others
claim, only gave him a push. The fact is that the man staggered and
fell to the ground, and, in falling, struck his head against a stone.
Don Rafael quietly lifted up the wounded boy and carried him to the
court house near by, leaving the collector where he had fallen. The
ex-artilleryman began to bleed at the mouth and died without regaining
consciousness.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Naturally the law stepped in. They showered calumnies of all
kinds upon your father and accused him of being a heretic and a
revolutionist. To be a heretic is a great misfortune anywhere or at any
time, but it was especially so at this particular time, for the chief
magistrate of the province was the loudest prayer maker in the Church.
To be a revolutionist is still worse. One might better have killed
three highly educated tax collectors than be thus accused. Everybody
deserted your father, and his books and papers were seized. He was
accused of being a subscriber to &lsquo;El Correo del Ultramar&rsquo;
and to Madrid newspapers, of having sent you to Germany, of having in
his possession incriminating papers and pictures, and&mdash;well, I
don&rsquo;t know what not. He was even attacked because, although he
was the descendant of Spaniards, he wore the dress of the natives. If
your father had been anybody else, he would have been acquitted, for
the doctors pronounced the death of the collector due to natural
causes. His fortune, however, his confidence in the law, and his hatred
for everything which seemed unlawful and unjust, cost him his life. I
myself, much as I dislike begging for mercy, called upon the Governor
General, the predecessor of the present Governor. I brought out the
fact that a man who aided every poor Spaniard, who gave food and
shelter to all, and whose veins were filled with the generous blood
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb21" href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>of
Spain&mdash;such a man could not be a revolutionist. In vain I argued
for him, pledged my own life for him, and swore by my military honor.
What did it all amount to? I was badly received, curtly and summarily
dismissed, and called a fool.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man paused to take breath. His young companion neither
looked up nor made a sound. The narrator proceeded: &ldquo;I took
charge of the case for your father. I called upon the celebrated
Filipino lawyer, young A&mdash;&mdash;a, but he refused to undertake
the defense. &lsquo;I would lose the case,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;my
defense would cause new accusations against him, and perhaps bring them
upon me. Go and see Se&ntilde;or M&mdash;&mdash;, who is an eloquent
orator, a Spaniard and a man of great reputation.&rsquo; I did so, and
the celebrated lawyer took charge of the case, which he conducted in a
masterful and brilliant manner. But your father had many enemies, some
of whom did their work secretly. There were many false witnesses in the
case, and their calumnies, which anywhere else would have been
overthrown by a single sarcastic phrase from the defending attorney,
were here given a great deal of weight. As fast as the attorney proved
the falsity of their accusations, new charges were brought forward.
They accused him of having wrongfully taken possession of a large tract
of land. They sued him for damages and for injuries caused. They said
that he had dealings with the organized bandits or <i>tulisanes</i>,
and that thus he had been able to keep his property unmolested. In
fact, the case became so complicated that within a year no one
understood it. The chief magistrate was called away from his post and
replaced by another of good reputation, but unfortunately this
magistrate, too, was displaced in a few months.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The sufferings, disappointments and discomforts of prison
life, and his great grief at seeing the ingratitude of so many supposed
friends, finally broke down your father&rsquo;s iron constitution and
he became fatally ill. When it was all over; when he had proved himself
not guilty of being an enemy to his country, and innocent of the death
of the tax collector, he died in prison, with no one to care for him in
his last hours. I arrived just as he was expiring.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man had finished all he had to say. Ibarra, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb22" href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>overcome with grief
at the pathetic story he had heard, could not utter a word. The two had
arrived at the gate of the barracks. Stopping and shaking hands with
the young man, the officer said: &ldquo;My boy, Captain Tiago can give
you the details. I must say good night, for my duty calls me.&rdquo;
With deep emotion, Ibarra grasped the lean hand of the lieutenant, and
then looked after him in silence until he disappeared in the building.
Turning slowly about, he saw a carriage passing and made a sign to the
cabman.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Lala&rsquo;s Hotel,&rdquo; he said in a low voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This fellow is just out of jail,&rdquo; said the cabman to
himself as he whipped up his horses. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb23" href="#pb23">23</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch4" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter IV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Captain Tiago.</h2>

<p>Captain Tiago was short in stature, but both his body and his face
were well filled out. His complexion was clear and he did not appear to
be more than thirty or thirty-five years old, although he was really
more than that. In these times his face always wore a pleasant
expression. His head was small, round and covered with hair as black as
ebony, long in front and very short behind. This head, according to
reports, contained a great many things. His eyes were small but not
terrifying, and always without expression. In short, the Captain might
have passed for a good-looking little man, if his mouth had not been
disfigured by the use of tobacco and the betel nut, the juices of which
trickled out of the corners of his lips and destroyed the symmetry of
his features. However, despite these habits, both his own teeth and the
two that the dentist had made for him, at twelve <i>pesos</i> each,
were well preserved.</p>

<p>Tiago was considered one of the richest property owners in Binondo,
and he also owned large plantations in the provinces of Pampanga and
Laguna de Bay, especially in the town of San Diego. The rent of all
these lands increased every year. San Diego was his favorite town on
account of its excellent bathing place, its famous cockpit and the
pleasant memories associated with the neighborhood. He spent at least
two months in this town every year. Captain Tiago also had a great deal
of property in Santo Cristo, in Analoague Street and in Rosario Street.
In partnership with a Chinaman he carried on a profitable business in
opium. It is understood that he had contracts with the Government for
feeding the prisoners in Bilibid and that he supplied fodder to many of
the principal houses in Manila. He was in good standing with the
authorities, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb24" href=
"#pb24">24</a>]</span>able, clever, and even daring in his speculations
in the necessities of others. Hence it was that at this time the
Captain was as happy as a narrow-minded man could be in such a country.
He was rich, and was at peace with God, the Government and man.</p>

<p>That Tiago was at peace with God was indisputable. In fact, there
was no reason whatever for his not being so, since he was well situated
as far as worldly matters go and had never loaned God any money. He
never addressed God in his prayers, not even when he was in dire
straits. He was rich, and his money, he thought, could pray for him.
For masses and prayers, God had created powerful and lofty priests; for
special religious functions and rosaries, God, in His infinite
goodness, for the benefit of the rich, had created poor
people&mdash;poor people who for a <i>peso</i> would make half a dozen
prayers, and would read all the Holy Books, even to the Hebrew Bible,
if the pay were large enough. If at any time he found himself in hard
straits and needed heavenly aid and was out of red Chinese candles, he
applied to the saints, making them great promises in order to win their
favor and convince them of his good intentions.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago was therefore beloved by the priests, respected by the
sacristans, fondled by the Chinese candle-makers and fire-cracker
merchants, and thoroughly happy in the religion of the world. Some even
attributed to him great influence in the ecclesiastical court.</p>

<p>That the Captain was at peace with the Government must not be
doubted simply because such a thing seems impossible. Incapable of
conceiving a new idea and content with the <i>modus vivendi</i>, he was
always willing to obey the latest official recruit in any of the
Government offices and even ready to give him at all times of the year
such presents as hams, capons, turkeys, and Chinese fruit. He was the
first to applaud any tax imposed by the Government, especially when he
scented behind it a chance of securing the contract for its collection.
He always kept orchestras on hand to serenade Government officials of
all grades from governor to the lowest Government agent, on their
birthdays, saint&rsquo;s days, or when any occasion, such as the death
of any of their relatives, or a birth in the <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb25" href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>family connection should afford a
pretext. He even went so far as to dedicate laudatory verses to his
royal patrons on these occasions, thus honoring the &ldquo;suave and
loving governor&rdquo; or the &ldquo;valiant and mighty
alcalde.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Captain was a petty governor or <i>gobernadorcillo</i> of a rich
colony of <i>mestizos</i>, in spite of the protests of many who
considered him unfit for the position. He held the office for two
years, but during this time he wore out ten frock coats, about the same
number of high hats, and lost more than a half dozen of <i>
gobernadorcillo</i> canes. His high hat and frock coat were always in
evidence in the city hall, at the Government palace in
Melaca&ntilde;an<a class="noteref" id="xd0e995src" href=
"#xd0e995">1</a> and at the army headquarters, and they always
appeared, too, in the cock-pit, in the market, in all processions, and
in the Chinese shops. Dressed in this official costume with the
tasseled cane, Captain Tiago was to be found everywhere, arranging,
ordering, and putting in disorder, everything with which he had
anything to do&mdash;and all with wonderful activity and with still
more wonderful gravity.</p>

<p>Sacrilegious people called him a fool; poor people called him a
hypocrite, a cruel man who gained a livelihood by making others
miserable; while his inferiors looked upon him as a despot and a
tyrant. And the women? Ah, the women! Slanderous rumors circulated in
the wretched <i>nipa</i> houses, and it was claimed that often
lamentations and sobs, mingled with the cries of a child, could be
heard. More than one young girl was pointed out by the malicious finger
of the neighbors, with the remark: &ldquo;See what a different
expression she wears, and how plainly she shows evidences of her
shame.&rdquo; But such things as these never robbed the Captain of any
sleep; no young girl disturbed his rest.</p>

<p>Such was the Captain at that time. His past history was as follows:
He was the only son of a very wealthy but avaricious sugar manufacturer
of Malabon, who was unwilling to spend a cent in his education. For
this reason young Santiago became the servant of a good Dominican, a
very virtuous man, who tried to teach him all the valuable knowledge
which he possessed. About the time when he was to have the happiness of
studying logic, the death <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb26" href=
"#pb26">26</a>]</span>of his protector, followed by that of his father,
put an end to his studies and from that time on he devoted himself to
business. He married a beautiful girl from Santa Cruz, who increased
his fortune and gave him a social position.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Pia Alba was not content with buying sugar, coffee and
indigo; she wished to sow and reap, so the young husband bought lands
in San Diego. It was in this town that he made the acquaintance and
friendship of Father D&aacute;maso and of Don Rafael Ibarra, the
richest capitalist of the town.</p>

<p>The lack of an heir for the first six years of his married life gave
him a great opportunity to accumulate wealth, which perhaps was a
censurable ambition. Although Do&ntilde;a Pia was handsome, robust and
well formed, she made her pilgrimages in vain. By advice of the
devotees of San Diego, she visited the Virgin of Cayasay in Taal; she
gave alms, and she danced in the procession before the Virgin of
Turumba in Pakil under the May sun, but it was all in vain. Finally, on
the advice of Father D&aacute;maso, she went to Obando, and there
danced at the <i>fiesta</i> of San Pascual Bailon and asked for a son.
It is well known that in Obando there is a trinity&mdash;Our Lady of
Salambau, Santa Clara and San Pascual&mdash;which grants sons or
daughters as required. Thanks to this wise triumvirate, Do&ntilde;a Pia
became a mother, but like the fisherman in Macbeth, who ceased to sing
after he found a rich treasure, Do&ntilde;a Pia lost her gayety, became
very sad and was never seen to smile again. Every one, even to Captain
Tiago, declared that it was a pure caprice. A puerperal fever put an
end to her grief, leaving a beautiful daughter motherless. Father
D&aacute;maso baptized the child, and, as San Pascual had not given the
son which had been asked for, the name of Maria Clara was given to it
in honor of the Virgin of Salambau and of Santa Clara. The little girl
grew up under the care of her aunt Isabel,&mdash;that good old lady
with the manners of a friar whom we met before. The little girl lived
the greater part of the time in San Diego on account of the healthful
climate, and while there Father D&aacute;maso paid her much
attention.</p>

<p>Maria Clara did not have the small eyes of her father. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb27" href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>Like her mother, her
eyes were large, black and shaded by long lashes, brilliant and smiling
when she was playing, but sad, deep and pensive at other times. When a
child her wavy hair was almost blond. Her nose was well formed, neither
too large nor too flat. Her mouth was small and beautifully shaped like
that of her mother, and her cheeks were set with dimples. Her skin was
like silk and as white as snow, but her fond parent found traces of the
paternity of Captain Tiago in her small and well shaped ears.</p>

<p>Aunt Isabel attributed the child&rsquo;s semi-European features to
impressions made upon Do&ntilde;a Pia. She remembered having seen the
mother a short time before the child was born, weeping before the image
of San Antonio. Then, too, a cousin of Captain Tiago had the same
features, the only difference being in the choice of the saints, by
which the phenomenon was explained. With her it was either the Virgin
or San Miguel. A cousin of Captain Tiago, a famous philosopher, who
knew Amat<a class="noteref" id="xd0e1020src" href="#xd0e1020">2</a> by
heart, explained it all by attributing it to the effect of the
planets.</p>

<p>Maria Clara, the idol of all, grew up surrounded by love and smiles.
She won the favor of even the friars when she was dressed in white for
some religious procession, her long, wavy hair interwoven with flowers,
two silver or golden wings attached to the shoulders of her dress, and
holding two white doves, tied with blue ribbons, in her hand. When she
grew up, she was so full of childish mischief that Captain Tiago did
nothing but bless the saints of Obando and advise everybody to buy
handsome statues of that trinity.</p>

<p>In tropical countries a girl becomes a woman at the age of thirteen
or fourteen years, like the plant which buds at night and blooms the
following morning. During this period of transition, so full of mystery
and romance, on the advice of the parish priest, Maria Clara entered
the religious retreat of Santa Catalina in order to receive from the
nuns a strictly religious education. She left Father D&aacute;maso in
tears, and likewise the only friend of her childhood, Crisostomo
Ibarra. Shortly after the entrance to the convent, Ibarra went to
Europe. For seven <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb28" href=
"#pb28">28</a>]</span>long years, the girl lived under the vigilance of
the Mother Superior in the iron-grated building, shut off from any
communication with the outer world.</p>

<p>Don Rafael and Captain Tiago, in the meantime, while Ibarra was in
Europe and Maria Clara in the convent, noticing the trend of affairs,
and at the same time having in mind their own interests, decided that
the children should be married. It is needless to say that this
agreement, which was arrived at some years after Ibarra had left for
Europe, was celebrated with equal joy by two hearts, on opposite sides
of the world and amid very different surroundings. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb29" href="#pb29">29</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e995src" id="xd0e995">1</a></span> Street in Manila.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1020src" id="xd0e1020">2</a></span> Archbishop and author of
theological works.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch5" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter V.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">An Idyl on the Azotea.<a class="noteref" id=
"xd0e1037src" href="#xd0e1037">1</a></h2>

<p>On the morning after the dinner party, Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara
went to mass early: the former carefully carrying her glasses, so that
she might be able to read &ldquo;The Anchor of Salvation&rdquo; during
communion; the latter beautifully dressed, carrying her rosary of blue
beads as a bracelet. The priest had scarcely left the altar when, to
the disgust and surprise of her good aunt, who thought that her niece
was as pious and as fond of prayer as a nun, the young girl desired to
go home. After a great deal of grumbling, the old lady crossed herself
several times, and the two arose to leave. &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo;
said Maria, to cut off the scolding, &ldquo;the good God will pardon
me. He ought to understand the heart of a girl better than you, Aunt
Isabel.&rdquo;</p>

<p>After breakfast, Maria Clara occupied herself with some embroidery
while her aunt bustled about with a duster removing the traces of the
social event of the preceding evening. Captain Tiago was busy examining
some papers.</p>

<p>Every noise in the street and every passing carriage made the girl
tremble with anxiety and wish that she were again back in the convent
among her friends. There, she thought, she could see him without
trembling and with perfect equanimity.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I believe, Maria, that the doctor is right,&rdquo; said
Captain Tiago. &ldquo;You ought to go to the provinces. You are looking
very pale and need a change of air. How does Malabon strike you, or San
Diego?&rdquo;</p>

<p>At the mere mention of the latter name, Maria Clara blushed and was
unable to speak.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Now, you and Isabel go to the convent to get your <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb30" href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>things and say
good bye to your friends,&rdquo; continued the Captain, without raising
his head. &ldquo;You will not return there. And in four or five days,
when your clothes are ready we shall go to Malabon. &mdash;Your
godfather, by the way, is not in San Diego at present. The priest whom
you saw here last night, that young fellow, is now the priest in the
town. He is a saint.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I think you will find San Diego better, cousin,&rdquo; said
Aunt Isabel. &ldquo;Our house there is better than the one in Malabon,
and besides, it is nearly time for the <i>fiesta</i> to take
place.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara was about to embrace her aunt for these welcome words,
but just then a carriage stopped in front of the house and the young
girl suddenly turned pale.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s so,&rdquo; said the Captain, and then, in a
changed tone, exclaimed, &ldquo;Don Crisostomo!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara let fall the work which she was holding in her hands. A
nervous trembling passed over her. Then steps were heard on the stairs
and presently a young, manly voice. And, as if this voice had some
magic power, the girl shook off her emotion, started to run, and hid
herself in the oratory. Both father and aunt had to laugh at this, and
even Ibarra heard the closing of the door behind her.</p>

<p>Pale and panting, the girl finally subdued her emotion and began to
listen. She could hear his voice, that voice which for so long a time
she had heard only in her dreams. Beside herself with joy, she kissed
the nearest saint, which, by the way, happened to be San Antonio, the
abbot. Happy saint! Whether alive or carved in wood, always tempted in
the most charming manner! Becoming quite herself again, she looked
about for some crack through which she might get a peep at the young
man. Finally, when he came in range of the key-hole and she again saw
his fine features, her face beamed with smiles. In fact, the sight
filled her with such joy that when her aunt came to call her, Maria
Clara fell on the old lady&rsquo;s neck and kissed her repeatedly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You goose! What is the matter with you?&rdquo; the old lady
was finally able to ask, after wiping away her tears. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb31" href="#pb31">31</a>]</span></p>

<p>Maria Clara, in her modesty, covered her face with her round
arm.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come! Hurry up and get yourself ready!&rdquo; said the old
lady in an affectionate tone. &ldquo;While he is talking with your
father about you&mdash;&mdash; Come, do not waste time!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The girl did not respond, but allowed herself to be picked up like a
child and carried to her room.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago and Ibarra were talking earnestly when at last Aunt
Isabel appeared, half dragging her niece by the hand. At first the girl
looked in every direction but at the persons present. At last, however,
her eyes met Ibarra&rsquo;s.</p>

<p>The conversation of the young lovers was at first confined to the
usual trifling remarks, those pleasant little things which, like the
boasts of European nations, are enjoyable and interesting to those who
are concerned and understand them, but ridiculous to outsiders.</p>

<p>Finally, she, like all sisters of Cain, was moved by jealously and
asked: &ldquo;Have you always thought of me? Have you never forgotten
me in your many travels among so many great cities and among such
beautiful women?&rdquo;</p>

<p>And he, a true brother of Cain, dodged the issue, and, being
something of a diplomat, answered: &ldquo;Could I forget you?&rdquo;
And then, gazing into her deep, dark eyes, &ldquo;Could I break a
sacred vow? Do you remember that stormy night when you, seeing me in
tears beside my dead mother, came to me and placed your hand&mdash;that
hand which I have not touched for so long&mdash;upon my shoulder, and
said: &lsquo;You have lost your mother,&mdash;I never had one.&rsquo;
And then you wept with me. You loved my mother, and she loved you as
only a mother can love a daughter. It was raining then, you will
remember, and the lightning flashed, but I seemed to hear music and to
see a smile on the face of my dead mother.&mdash;O, if my parents were
only living and could see you now!&mdash;That night I took your hand
and, joining it with my mother&rsquo;s, I swore always to love you and
make you happy, no matter what fate Heaven might have in store for me.
I have never regretted that vow, and now renew it.&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb32" href="#pb32">32</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Since the day that I bade you good-bye and entered the
convent,&rdquo; she answered, smiling, &ldquo;I have always remembered
you, and have never forgotten you in spite of the commands of my
confessor, who imposed severe penances on me. I remembered the little
games we used to play together and our little quarrels. When we were
children you used to find in the river the most beautiful shells for
our games of <i>siklot</i> and the finest and most beautifully colored
stones for our game of <i>sinkat</i>. You were always very slow and
stupid and lost, but you always paid the forfeit, which I gave you with
the palm of my hand. But I always tried to strike lightly, for I was
sorry for you. You always cheated, even more than I, in the game of <i>
chouka</i> and we generally quarrelled over it. Do you remember that
time when you really became angry? Then you made me suffer, but when I
found that I had no one to quarrel with, we made peace immediately. We
were still children when we went with your mother one day to bathe in
the stream under the shade of the reeds. Many flowers and plants grew
on the bank of the river, and you used to tell me their strange Latin
and Spanish names, for you were then studying at the Athen&aelig;um. I
paid little attention, but amused myself by chasing butterflies and in
trying to catch the little fish which slipped away from me so easily
among the rocks and weeds of the shore. You suddenly disappeared from
sight, but when you returned you brought a wreath of orange flowers and
placed it on my head. On our way home, as the sun was hot, I collected
some sage leaves from the side of the road for you to put into your hat
and thus prevent headache. Then you laughed, we made up, and came the
remainder of the way home hand in hand.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra smiled as he listened attentively to every detail of the
story. Opening his pocket book, he took out a paper in which he had
wrapped some withered but fragrant sage leaves. &ldquo;Your sage
leaves,&rdquo; said he in answer to her questioning glance. &ldquo;The
only thing you have ever given me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>She, in turn, drew a little, white satin bag from the bosom of her
dress. &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; she said, tapping his hand <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb33" href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>with her own.
&ldquo;You must not touch it; it is a letter of farewell.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The one that I wrote you before leaving?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My dear sir, have you ever written any other?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what did I say then?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Many falsehoods; excuses of a bad debtor,&rdquo; replied she,
smiling and showing how agreeable these falsehoods had been to her.
&ldquo;But be quiet! I will read it to you, but I will omit your polite
speeches out of consideration for your feelings.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Raising the paper to the height of her eyes, in order to conceal her
face, she began. &ldquo;&lsquo;My&mdash;&mdash;,&rsquo; I shall not
read you what follows that, for it is not true.&rdquo; She ran her eyes
over some lines and began to read again: &ldquo;&lsquo;My father wishes
me to go away, in spite of my entreaties. He says that I am a man and
must think of my future and my duty; that I must learn how to live,
which I cannot do in my own country, so that in the future I may be of
some use. He says that if I remain at his side, in his shadow, in this
atmosphere of business, I will never learn how to look ahead, and that
when he is gone, I shall be like the plant of which our poet Baltazar
speaks&mdash;as it always lives in the water, it never learns how to
endure a moment&rsquo;s heat.&mdash;He reproached me because I wept,
and his reproach hurt me so that I confessed that I loved you. My
father stopped, thought a moment and, placing his hand on my shoulder,
said in a trembling voice: &ldquo;Do you think that you alone know how
to love, that your father does not love you, and that his heart is not
pained at being separated from you? It is a short time since your
mother died, and I am already reaching that age when the help and
counsel of youth are needed. And yet I consent to your going, not even
knowing that I shall ever see you again. The future is opening to you,
but closing to me. Your loves are being born; mine are dying. Fire
blazes in your blood, but cold is gradually finding its way into mine.
And yet you weep, and are not willing to sacrifice the present for a
future useful to yourself and your country.&rdquo; The eyes of my
father filled with tears and I fell upon my <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb34" href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>knees at his feet and embraced
him. I asked his pardon and said that I was willing to
go.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>The emotion which Ibarra manifested put an end to the reading. As
pale as death, he arose and began to walk nervously from one side to
the other.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have made me forget that I have duties to perform, and
that I ought to leave immediately for my town. To-morrow is the <i>
fiesta</i> in memory of the dead.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara stopped and silently fixed her large and dreamy eyes
upon him for some minutes. Then taking some flowers from a vase near
by, she said with emotion: &ldquo;Go! I do not wish to detain you. We
shall see each other again in a few days. Place these flowers on the
graves of your father and mother.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A few moments later, Ibarra descended the stairs, accompanied by
Captain Tiago and Do&ntilde;a Isabel, while Maria Clara locked herself
up in the oratory.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do me the favor to tell Andeng to get the house ready, and
that Maria and Isabel are coming. A pleasant journey!&rdquo; While the
Captain was saying this, Ibarra got into the carriage and drove off in
the direction of the Plaza of San Gabriel.</p>

<p>A few minutes later the Captain shouted to Maria Clara, who was
weeping by the side of the image of the Virgin: &ldquo;Hurry up and
light two <i>peseta</i> candles in honor of San Roque and another in
honor of San Rafael, the patron saint of travellers. And light the lamp
of Our Lady of Peace and Protector of Travellers, for there are many
bandits about. It is better to spend four <i>reales</i> for wax and six
<i>cuartos</i> for oil than to have to pay a big ransom later
on.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb35" href=
"#pb35">35</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1037src" id="xd0e1037">1</a></span> Roof of the first story used
as a veranda.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch6" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter VI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Things Philippine.</h2>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso drove up in front of Captain Tiago&rsquo;s
house and the Franciscan stepped to the ground just as Aunt Isabel and
Maria Clara were getting into their silver-trimmed carriage. They
saluted Father D&aacute;maso, and he, in his preoccupation, gently
patted Maria Clara on the cheek.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo; the friar asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To the convent to get my things,&rdquo; replied the
younger.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, ha! Ah, ha! We&rsquo;ll see who is the stronger.
We&rsquo;ll see!&rdquo; he muttered and turned away, leaving the two
women in wonder as to what it all meant. The friar stepped along
lightly, and reaching the stairs, went up.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He must be studying his sermon,&rdquo; said Isabel.
&ldquo;Get in, Maria; we shall be late.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Whether Father D&aacute;maso was studying his sermon or not we
cannot say. At any rate, he was absorbed in some important matter, for
he even forgot to extend his hand to Captain Tiago upon entering,
greatly to the embarrassment of the Captain, who had to feign kissing
it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Santiago, we have some very important matters to talk over;
let us go to your office.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Captain, somewhat disturbed, was unable to reply, but he obeyed
and followed the big priest into his office. Father D&aacute;maso shut
the door behind them.</p>

<p>While they are conferring in secret, let us find out what has become
of Brother Sibyla. The wise Dominican was not to be found at his
parochial residence, for early, immediately after mass, he had gone to
the Dominican convent, situated near the gate called Isabel the Second
or Magallanes, according to which family is in power in Madrid. Paying
no attention to the delicious odor of chocolate or to the rattling of
money boxes and coins in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb36" href=
"#pb36">36</a>]</span>the treasurer&rsquo;s office, and scarcely
answering the deferential salute of the treasurer, Father Sibyla went
upstairs, crossed several corridors and rapped on a door.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come in!&rdquo; answered a voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;May God give back health to Your Reverence!&rdquo; was the
greeting of the young Dominican as he entered.</p>

<p>A very feeble old priest was seated in a large arm-chair. His
complexion was as yellow as the saints which Revera paints; his eyes
were sunk deep in their orbits, and his heavy eyebrows, which were
nearly always knit in a frown, added to the brilliant glare of his
death-foreboding eyes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have come to talk to you about the charge with which you
have entrusted me,&rdquo; said Father <span class="corr" id="xd0e1173"
title="Source: Siblya">Sibyla</span>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, yes. And what about it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Pshaw!&rdquo; answered the young man with disgust, seating
himself and turning his face away with disdain. &ldquo;They have been
telling us a lot of lies. Young Ibarra is a prudent boy. He does not
seem to be a fool. I think he is a pretty good sort of a
chap.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Hostilities began last night.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;So soon? And how did it come about?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father Sibyla related briefly what had taken place between Father
D&aacute;maso and Crisostomo Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Furthermore,&rdquo; he added, in conclusion, &ldquo;the young
man is going to marry that daughter of Captain Tiago, who was educated
in the college of our sisters. He is rich and would not want to make
any enemies who might cause the loss of his happiness and his
fortune.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The sick man bowed his head as a sign of assent. &ldquo;Yes, that is
my opinion. With such a wife and such a father-in-law we can hold him
body and soul. And if not, it will be all the better for us if he
declares himself our enemy.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father Sibyla looked at the old man with surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is to say, for the good of our whole corporation,&rdquo;
he added, breathing with difficulty. &ldquo;I prefer open attacks to
the foolish praise and adulations of friends, for, the truth is,
flattery is always paid for.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Does Your Reverence think so?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man looked at him sadly. &ldquo;Always bear this in
mind,&rdquo; he answered, panting with fatigue, &ldquo;that our <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb37" href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>power will
endure as long as it is believed in. If they attack us, the Government
says, &lsquo;They attack them, because they see in them an obstacle to
their liberty, therefore let us preserve them.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if the Government gives them a hearing? Sometimes the
Government&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Government will do no such thing.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless, if some bold and reckless man, impelled by
covetousness, should dare to think that he wanted our
possessions&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, woe to him!&rdquo;</p>

<p>For a moment both remained silent.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Furthermore,&rdquo; continued the sick man, &ldquo;it will do
us good to have them attack us and wake us up. It would show us our
weaknesses and strengthen us. The exaggerated praises which we get
deceive us, and put us asleep. We are becoming ridiculous and on the
day that we become ridiculous we shall fall as we fell in Europe. Money
will no longer flow into our churches, no one will longer buy our
scapularies or girdles, and when we cease to be rich we shall no longer
possess the great influence which we wield at present.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Pshaw! We shall always have our property, our
plantations&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;We shall lose them all as we lost them in Europe. And the
worst of it is that we are working for our own ruin. For instance, this
immeasurable ambition to raise the incomes from our lands each year,
this eagerness to increase the rents, which I have always opposed in
vain, this eagerness will be our ruin. The natives already find
themselves forced to buy land in other localities if they want lands as
good as ours. I fear that we are degenerating. &lsquo;Whom the gods
would destroy they first make mad.&rsquo; For this reason we should not
be too hard on the people, for they are already grumbling under our
exactions. You have considered well. Let us leave this thing to others,
and keep up the prestige which we have and let us endeavor to appear
before God with clean hands. May the God of pity have mercy on our
weaknesses!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;So you believe that the tax or
tribute&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us talk no more of money!&rdquo; interrupted the sick
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb38" href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>man with
disgust. &ldquo;You were saying that the lieutenant and Father
D&aacute;maso last night&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, Father,&rdquo; answered the young priest smiling.
&ldquo;But this morning I saw the lieutenant again and he told me that
he was sorry for what had occurred at the dinner. He said he thought
that he had been affected by too much wine and that the same was true
of Father D&aacute;maso. &lsquo;And your boast to tell the
Governor?&rsquo; I asked jokingly. &lsquo;Father,&rsquo; he answered,
&lsquo;I know when to make my word good so long as it does not stain my
honor. That is just the reason why I wear only two
stars.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>After talking over several minor matters, Father Sibyla took his
leave.</p>

<p>As a matter of fact the lieutenant had not gone to the Governor
General&rsquo;s palace in Melaca&ntilde;an with any report in regard to
the occurrence of the preceding evening. However, the Governor General
had learned of it through another source, and discussing the matter
with one of his aides, he said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;A woman and a priest can give no offense. I intend to live
peaceably while I remain in this country and I do not wish to have any
trouble with men who wear skirts. And, furthermore, I have found out
that the Father Provincial has evaded my orders in this matter. I asked
for the removal of that friar as a punishment. What was done? They
removed him, but they gave him another and much better town.
&lsquo;Tricks of the friars,&rsquo; as they say in Spain.&rdquo;</p>

<p>But when His Excellency found himself alone he ceased to smile.
&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he sighed, &ldquo;if the people were not so stupid
they would put a limit to their reverences. But every people deserves
its fate, and we are no different in this respect from the rest of the
world.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Meanwhile Captain Tiago had concluded his conference with Father
D&aacute;maso, or rather Father D&aacute;maso had concluded it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have already warned you!&rdquo; said the Franciscan on
taking his leave. &ldquo;You could have avoided all of this had you
consulted with me before, and, if you had not lied to me, when I asked
you about it. See to it that you do not <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb39" href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>do any more such foolish things, and
have faith in your godfather.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Captain Tiago took two or three steps towards the <i>sala</i>,
meditating and sighing. All at once, as if some good idea had struck
him, he ran to the oratory and put out the candles and the lamps which
had been lighted for Ibarra&rsquo;s protection.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There is still time enough,&rdquo; he murmured, &ldquo;for he
has a long road to travel.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb40"
href="#pb40">40</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch7" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter VII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">San Diego and Its People.</h2>

<p>Not far from the shores of the Laguna de Bay lies the town of San
Diego, surrounded by fertile fields and rice plantations. It exports
sugar, rice, coffee, and fruits, or sells them at ridiculously low
prices to the Chinese, who make large profits out of the credulity and
vices of the laborers.</p>

<p>When the sky was serene and the atmosphere clear, the boys used to
climb to the very peak of the old moss and vine covered church tower.
And what exclamations they would utter when, from that high pinnacle,
they looked out at the beautiful panorama that surrounded them. There
before them lay a great mass of roofs, some <i>nipa</i>, some thatch,
some zinc and some made out of the native grasses. And out of that
mass, which here and there gave way to an orchard or a garden, every
one of those boys could find his own little home, his own little nest.
To them everything was a landmark; every tamarind tree with its light
foliage, every cocoanut tree with its load of nuts, every bending cane,
every <i>bonga</i> tree, every cross. Beyond the town is the crystal
river, like a serpent asleep on a carpet of green. Here and there, its
tranquil surface is broken by rocks projecting from its sandy bottom.
In places, it is hemmed in between two high banks, and there the
rapidly rushing waters turn and twist the half-bared roots of the
overhanging shade trees. But further on it spreads itself out again and
becomes calm and peaceful.</p>

<p>But what always attracts attention is a peninsula of forest
projecting into this sea of cultivated land. There can be found
hollow-trunked trees, a century old, trees which die only when struck
by lightning and set on fire. They say, also, that even in that case
the fire never spreads to any other tree. This old grove is held in a
certain degree of awe, for around it have been woven many strange <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb41" href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>legends. Of
these the most probable, and consequently the least known and believed
is the following:</p>

<p>When the town was still a miserable group of huts, when weeds grew
in abundance in the so-called streets, and deer and wild boar roamed
about at night, there arrived one day an old Spaniard. His eyes were
deep and thoughtful and he spoke Tagalog fluently. After visiting the
different estates and peddling out some goods he inquired for the
owners of this grove, which by the way, also contained several hot
water springs. A number of persons claiming to be the owners presented
themselves, and the old man purchased from them the grove, paying in
exchange some money, jewelry and clothing. A short time afterward he
disappeared, no one knew where.</p>

<p>His sudden disappearance made the people think for a time that he
had been spirited away, but later on a fetid odor was noticeable near
the grove, and some shepherds, upon investigation, found the body of
the old man in a badly decomposed condition hanging from the limb of a
<i>balit&icirc;</i> tree. When alive the old man had terrorized many by
his deep and resonant voice, his sunken eyes and his silent laugh, but
now that he was dead, and a suicide at that, the mere mention of his
name gave the town women nightmare. Some of them threw the jewelry that
they had bought from him into the river and burned all the clothing,
and, for a long time after the body had been buried at the foot of the
<i>balit&icirc;</i> tree, no one cared to venture near it. All sort of
stories became current about the haunted place.</p>

<p>A shepherd, looking for his flock, said that he had seen lights in
the grove. A party of young men, passing near the place, heard groans
and lamentations. An unfortunate lover, in order to make an impression
on the disdainful object of his affections, promised to spend a night
under the tree and to bring her a branch from its trunk, but on the
next day he was taken ill with a quick fever and died.</p>

<p>Before many months had passed, a youth came to the town one day. He
was apparently a Spanish <i>mestizo</i>, declared himself the son of
the dead stranger, and established himself in that far-off corner of
the world. He began to farm the land and devoted himself especially to
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb42" href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>the
cultivation of indigo. Don Saturnino was a taciturn young man, violent
and sometimes cruel, but very active and industrious. He built a wall
around his father&rsquo;s grave and, from time to time, went all alone
to visit it. A few years later he married a young girl from Manila who
bore him a son, Rafael, the father of Crisostomo.</p>

<p>Don Rafael, from his earliest youth, was fond of farming. Under his
care, the agriculture which had been started and fostered by his father
was rapidly developed. New inhabitants flocked to the vicinity, and
among them were a great many Chinese. The village grew very fast and
was soon supporting a native priest. After it had become a <i>
pueblo</i>, the native priest died and Father D&aacute;maso took his
place.</p>

<p>Still the grave and the adjoining lands were respected. At times,
children, armed with sticks and stones, ventured to wander about,
exploring the surrounding country and gathering <i>guayabas</i>, <i>
papays</i>, <i>lomboy</i> and other native fruits. Then, all of a
sudden, while they were busily engaged collecting the fruits, some one
would catch a glimpse of the old rope hanging from the <i>
balit&icirc;</i> tree, and stones would be heard to fall. Then some one
would cry, &ldquo;The old man!&rdquo; &ldquo;The old man!&rdquo;
Dropping fruit, sticks and stones, and leaping from the trees, the boys
would flee in all directions through the thickets and between the
rocks, not stopping until they emerged from the grove, pale and
panting, some laughing, some crying.</p>

<p>You could not say that Don Rafael, while alive, was the most
influential man in San Diego, although it is true that he was the
richest, owned the most land, and had put almost everybody else under
obligations to him. He was modest and always belittled his own deeds.
He never tried to form a party of his own, and, as we have already
seen, no one came to his aid when his fortune seemed to fail him.</p>

<p>Whenever Captain Tiago arrived in town, his debtors received him
with an orchestra, gave him a banquet, and loaded him down with gifts.
If a deer or a wild boar was caught he always had a quarter of it for
his own table; if any of his debtors found a beautiful horse, within a
half hour it would be in the Captain&rsquo;s stable. All of this is
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb43" href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>true,
but still when the Captain had his back turned they made fun of him and
referred to him as Sacristan Tiago.</p>

<p>The <i>gobernadorcillo</i><a class="noteref" id="xd0e1315src" href=
"#xd0e1315">1</a> was an unhappy fellow who never commanded but always
obeyed; he never attacked any one, but was always attacked; he never
ordered anybody, but everybody ordered him; and besides, he had to take
the responsibility for everything that they had commanded, ordered or
disposed. The position had cost him five thousand <i>pesos</i> and many
humiliations, but, considering the profits he made, the price was very
cheap.</p>

<p>San Diego was like Rome; not the Rome of the time of Romulus, when
he marked out the walls with a plough, nor when, later, he bathed in
his own blood and that of others and dictated laws to the world: no,
San Diego was like the Rome of contemporaneous history, with this
difference&mdash;instead of being a city of marble, monuments and
coliseums, it was a city of <i>saual&icirc;</i><a class="noteref" id=
"xd0e1325src" href="#xd0e1325">2</a> and cock-pits. The parochial
priest of San Diego corresponded to the Pope in the Vatican; the <i>
alferez</i><a class="noteref" id="xd0e1330src" href="#xd0e1330">3</a>
of the Civil Guard to the King of Italy in the Quirinal, but both in
the same proportion as the <i>sauali</i> or native wood and the <i>
nipa</i> cock-pits corresponded to the monuments of marble and
coliseums. And in San Diego, as in Rome, there was continual trouble.
Everybody wanted to be the leading se&ntilde;or, and there was always
some one else in the way. Let us describe two of these ambitious
citizens.</p>

<p>Friar Bernando Salvi was the young and silent Franciscan whom we
mentioned in a preceding chapter. He had even more of the customs and
manners of his brotherhood than had his predecessor, the violent Father
D&aacute;maso. He was slender, sickly, almost always pensive, and very
strict in the fulfillment of his religious duties as well as very
careful of his good name. A month after his arrival in the parish
almost all the inhabitants became brothers of the &ldquo;Venerable
Third Order,&rdquo; to the great grief of its rival, &ldquo;The
Brotherhood of the Most Sacred Rosary.&rdquo; His heart leaped with joy
at seeing on every neck in the town <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb44"
href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>from four to five scapularies, a knotted
cord around every waist, and every funeral procession dressed in habits
of <i>guingon</i>. The sacristan mayor or head warden of the order made
quite a little capital by selling and giving away all those things
considered necessary to save the soul and overcome the devil.</p>

<p>The only enemy of this powerful soul saver, with tendencies in
accord with the times, was, as we have already stated, the <i>
alferez</i>. The women relate a story of how the devil tried one day to
tempt Father Salvi and how the latter caught him, tied him to the bed
post, whipped him with a lash and kept him tied fast for nine days.
Thus he had been able to conquer the devil entirely. As a result, any
one who persisted in being an enemy of the priest was generally
considered a worse man than the devil himself&mdash;an honor which the
<i>alferez</i> alone enjoyed. But he merited this reputation. He had a
wife, an old, powdered and painted Filipino by the name of Do&ntilde;a
Consolaci&oacute;n. The husband and several other people called her by
a different name, but that does not matter. Anyway, the <i>alferez</i>
was accustomed to drown the sorrows of unhappy wedlock by getting as
drunk as a toper. Then, when he was thoroughly intoxicated he would
order his men to drill in the sun, he himself remaining in the shade,
or, perhaps, he would occupy himself in beating his wife.</p>

<p>When her husband was dead drunk, or was snoring away in a siesta,
and Do&ntilde;a Consolaci&oacute;n could not fight with him, then,
wearing a blue flannel shirt, she would seat herself in the window,
with a cigar in her mouth. She had a dislike of children and so from
her window she would scowl and make faces at every girl that passed.
The girls, on the other hand, were afraid of her, and would hurry by at
a quick pace, never daring to raise their eyes or draw a breath. But
say what you may, Do&ntilde;a Consolaci&oacute;n had one great virtue;
she was never known to look into a mirror.</p>

<p>These were the leading people of San Diego.</p>

<p>Toward the west of San Diego, surrounded by rice fields, lies a
village of the dead. A single, narrow path, dusty on dry days, and
navigable by boats when it rains, leads thither from the town. A wooden
gate, and a fence, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb45" href=
"#pb45">45</a>]</span>half stone and half bamboo, seem to separate the
cemetery from the people in the town, but not from the goats and sheep
of the parochial priest of the immediate vicinity. These animals go in
and out to rummage among the tombs or to make that solitary place glad
with their presence.</p>

<p>One day a little old man entered the cemetery, his eyes sparkling
and his head uncovered. Upon seeing him, many laughed, while a number
of the women knit their eyebrows in scorn. The old man seemed to take
no notice of these manifestations, but went directly toward a pile of
skulls, knelt down and began to search among the bones. After he had
sorted over with considerable care the skulls one by one, he drew his
eyebrows together, as though he did not find what he was looking for,
moved his head from side to side, looked in all directions, and finally
got up and went over toward a grave-digger.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Eh, there!&rdquo; he shouted to him.</p>

<p>The grave-digger raised his head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know where that beautiful skull is, the one white as
the meat of a cocoanut, with a complete set of teeth, which I had over
there at the foot of the cross under those leaves?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The grave-digger shrugged his shoulders.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Look you!&rdquo; added the little old man, bringing out of
his pocket a handful of silver. &ldquo;I have more than that, but I
will give it to you if you find the skull for me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The glitter of the coin made the grave-digger reflect. He looked
over in the direction of the bone pile and said: &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it
over there? No? Then I don&rsquo;t know where it is.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know? When my debtors pay me, I will give you
more,&rdquo; continued the old man. &ldquo;It was my wife&rsquo;s
skull, and if you find it for me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it there. Then I don&rsquo;t know where it
is,&rdquo; repeated the grave-digger with emphasis. &ldquo;But I will
give you another.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are like the grave that you are digging,&rdquo; cried the
old man irritably. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know the value of what you
lose. For whom is this grave?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;For a dead person, of course,&rdquo; replied the bad-humored
man. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb46" href=
"#pb46">46</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Like a tomb! Like a tomb!&rdquo; repeated the old man dryly.
&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what you throw out nor what you swallow.
Dig! dig!&rdquo;</p>

<p>At this the old man, who was Tasio, the village philosopher, turned
and started toward the gate.</p>

<p>In the meantime, the grave-digger had finished his job, and two
little mounds of fresh, red clay were piled on either side of the
grave. He took some betel nut out of his broad-brimmed hat, and began
to chew away, looking with an air of stupidity at everything within his
horizon. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb47" href=
"#pb47">47</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1315src" id="xd0e1315">1</a></span> Petty governor, the highest
local official.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1325src" id="xd0e1325">2</a></span> Trellis work made of
reeds.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1330src" id="xd0e1330">3</a></span> Local commander of the Civil
Guard.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch8" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter VIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Ibarra and the Grave-Digger.</h2>

<p>Just as the old man was leaving the cemetery, a carriage stopped at
the entrance. It looked as though it had made a long journey; the
horses were sweating and the vehicle was covered with dust. Ibarra
stepped out and was followed by an old servant. He made a gesture to
the driver and then turned down the path into the cemetery. He was
silent and grave.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My sickness and my work have not permitted me to return,
since the day of the funeral,&rdquo; said the old servant timidly.
&ldquo;Captain Tiago said that he would see to it that a niche was
arranged for, but I planted some flowers on the grave and erected a
cross made by my own hands.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra did not reply.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Right there behind that large cross, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo;
continued the servant, making a gesture toward one of the corners just
as they passed through the gate.</p>

<p>Ibarra was so preoccupied with sad thoughts that he did not notice
the astonishment which some of the people in the cemetery manifested
when they saw him enter. Those who were kneeling broke off their
prayers and followed the young man, their eyes full of curiosity.</p>

<p>Ibarra walked along very carefully, and avoided stepping on the
graves, which could be easily distinguished by the sunken ground. In
other times he had walked over them; but to-day he respected them. His
father lay in one of them. On coming to the other side of the large
cross, he stopped and looked in all directions. His companion was
confused and out of countenance. He searched for marks on the ground
but could not find the cross anywhere.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it here?&rdquo; he murmured between his teeth. &ldquo;No,
it is over there, but the earth has been removed.&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb48" href="#pb48">48</a>]</span></p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him with an expression of anguish.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;I remember that there was a
stone by the side of the grave. The grave was a little short, a farm
hand had to dig it, as the grave-digger was sick at the time, but we
will ask him what he has done with the cross.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They turned toward the grave-digger, who looked at them with
curiosity. He saluted them, taking off his hat.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Can you tell us which of the graves over there is the one
which had a cross?&rdquo; asked the servant.</p>

<p>The grave-digger looked toward the place and seemed to reflect.
&ldquo;A large cross?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, a large cross,&rdquo; answered the old man with joy,
looking significantly at Ibarra, whose face was somewhat animated.</p>

<p>&ldquo;An ornamented cross, and fastened with reeds?&rdquo; repeated
the grave-digger, questioning the servant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it, that&rsquo;s it, yes, yes! Like this, like
this,&rdquo; and the servant traced an outline of a Byzantine
cross.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And were there some flowers sown on the grave?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Adelphas</i>, <i>sampagas</i> and pansies! That&rsquo;s
it,&rdquo; added the servant, delighted, and offering the grave-digger
a cigar. &ldquo;Tell us where the grave is and where the
cross.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The grave-digger scratched his ear and replied, yawning:
&ldquo;Well, the cross&mdash;I have already burned it up.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Burned it? and why have you burned it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because the head priest so ordered.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who is the head priest?&rdquo; asked Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who? The one who does the whipping.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra put his hand to his head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But you can at least tell us where the grave is? You ought to
remember.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The grave-digger smiled. &ldquo;The body is no longer there,&rdquo;
he replied tranquilly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you say?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, no longer,&rdquo; the man added in a joking tone.
&ldquo;Only a week ago I buried a woman in its place.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you crazy?&rdquo; the servant asked. &ldquo;Why, it is
not yet a year since we buried him.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb49" href="#pb49">49</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Then that is the one, for it was many months ago that I took
up the body. The head priest of the parish ordered me to do it, in
order to bury it in the Chinese cemetery. But as it was heavy and it
was raining that night&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>The man could not finish. He stepped back, half frightened at the
expression on Crisostomo&rsquo;s face. Ibarra made a rush at him, and,
grabbing him by the arm, shook him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what did you do?&rdquo; the young man asked, in an
indescribable tone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Honored sir, do not get angry,&rdquo; he replied, pale and
trembling. &ldquo;I did not bury the body among the Chinese. In my
opinion a person might better be a suicide than be buried among the
Chinese. I threw the body into the lake.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra laid both his hands on the man&rsquo;s shoulders and looked
at him for a long time in a terrifying manner. &ldquo;You are only an
unfortunate fellow,&rdquo; he said, at last, and left the place on a
run across bones, graves, and crosses, like a madman.</p>

<p>The grave-digger felt of his arm and murmured: &ldquo;What would
they do with the dead! The head priest whips me with his cane for
having left the body in the cemetery when I was sick. Now this fellow
comes along and nearly breaks my arm for having taken it up. That is
just like the Spaniards! I&rsquo;ll lose my place yet.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra went on in great haste, keeping his eyes fixed in the
distance. The old servant followed him, crying. Already the sun was
hidden; a large, dark cloud hung over the western horizon; and a dry
wind bent the tops of the trees and made the fields of sugar cane
groan. With hat in hand, he went on. Not one tear dropped from his eye,
not one sigh came from his breast. He hurried on as if he were fleeing
from somebody, or something&mdash;perhaps the shade of his father,
perhaps the tempest which was approaching. He hurried through the town
and headed toward the outlying country, toward that old house which he
had not entered for so many years. The house was surrounded by a wall,
near which many cacti grew, and as he approached they seemed to <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb50" href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>signal to him.
The windows seemed to open, the <i>ilang-ilang</i> joyfully waved its
branches, and the doves fluttered about the little tower on the peak of
their garden house.</p>

<p>But the young man did not notice these signs of welcome on his
return to his old home. His eyes were riveted on the form of a priest
who was advancing from the opposite direction. It was the priest of San
Diego, that meditative Franciscan, the enemy of the <i>alferez</i> whom
we have mentioned. The wind was playing with the wide wings of his hat,
and the robe of <i>guingon</i> was flattened out, moulded by the wind
to the outline of his form, marking his slender thighs and bow-legs. In
his right hand he carried a cane. It was the first time that he and
Ibarra had met.</p>

<p>As they approached each other, the young man stopped and looked at
him fixedly. Father Salvi avoided the look and was somewhat distracted.
This vacillation lasted only a moment. Ibarra made a rush toward him,
and stopped the priest from falling only by grasping his shoulder.
Then, in a voice scarcely intelligible, he exclaimed:</p>

<p>&ldquo;What have you done with my father?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Friar Salvi, pale and trembling, as he read the unmistakable
sentiments which were depicted on the young man&rsquo;s face, could not
reply.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What have you done with my father?&rdquo; he asked again, his
voice almost choking him.</p>

<p>The priest, shrinking from the tight grasp of Ibarra&rsquo;s hand,
at last made a great effort and said: &ldquo;You are mistaken. I have
done nothing with your father.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What? No?&rdquo; continued the young man, the weight of his
hand on the priest&rsquo;s shoulder almost making him kneel.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, I assure you. It was my predecessor. It was Father
D&aacute;maso&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the young man, throwing the priest down
and giving him a slap in the face. And leaving Father Salvi, he turned
quickly and went toward the house. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb51"
href="#pb51">51</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch9" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter IX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Adventures of a School Teacher.</h2>

<p>Laguna de Bay, surrounded by mountains, sleeps tranquilly in the
stillness of the elements, as if it had not joined the chorus of the
tempest on the night before. As first rays of dawn appear in the
eastern sky and awaken the phosphorescent myriads in the water, long,
grey shadows appear in the dim distance, almost on the border of the
horizon. They are shadows of fishermen&rsquo;s boats at work drawing in
the nets.</p>

<p>Two men, dressed in deep mourning, from a lofty height contemplate
the scene in silence. One is Ibarra, and the other is a young,
meek-looking man with a melancholy countenance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Here is the place!&rdquo; said the latter. &ldquo;Here is
where your father&rsquo;s body was thrown into the water! The
grave-digger brought Lieutenant Guevara and me here and pointed out the
spot.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra, with emotion, warmly grasped the young man&rsquo;s hand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You need not thank me!&rdquo; replied the latter. &ldquo;I
owed your father for many favors he did me. The only thing I could ever
do for him was to accompany his body to the grave. I had come to the
town without knowing anybody, without any recommendations, without a
reputation, without money, just as I am now. Your father protected me,
procured a house for me, helped secure whatever was needed to advance
education; he used to come to the school and distribute pennies among
the poor and diligent pupils; he provided them with books and papers.
But that, like all good things, did not last long.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra took off his hat and seemed to pray for a short time. Then he
turned to his companion and said: &ldquo;Did <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb52" href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>you tell me that my father used to
help the poor children<span class="corr" id="xd0e1527" title="Source:
.">?</span> How is it now?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh, now they do the best they can.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t they come to school regularly?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, for their shirts are ragged and they are
ashamed.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra kept silent for a few moments.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How many pupils have you now?&rdquo; he asked, with a certain
interest.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There are more than two hundred on the register, but only
twenty-five in the class.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How does that happen?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The school teacher sadly smiled.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is a long and tedious story,&rdquo; said he.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think that I am asking out of vain
curiosity,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, looking seriously at the distant
horizon. &ldquo;I have been meditating a great deal on the matter, and
I believe that it is far better to try to carry out the ideas of my
father than to try to avenge him. His tomb is sacred Nature; and his
enemies were the people and the priest. I can forgive the people for
their ignorance, and as to the priest, I will pardon his character
because I wish to respect the religion which he represents. I wish to
be inspired with the spirit of the one who gave me life, and, that I
may lend my help, I wish to know what are the obstacles here in the way
of education.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The country will bless your memory, Se&ntilde;or, if you can
carry out the beautiful and noble ideas of your dead father,&rdquo;
said the school teacher. &ldquo;You wish to know what the obstacles
are? Very well. We are now in such circumstances that unless something
powerful intervenes, there will never be any education here. First,
because there is no incentive or stimulus to the children, and,
secondly, even when there is an incentive, lack of means and many
prejudices kill it. They say that the son of a German peasant studies
eight years in the town school. Who would want to spend half of that
time in our schools, when the benefits to be derived are so small? Here
the children read, and commit to memory verses and at times entire
books in Spanish, but all without understanding a single word. What
good can <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb53" href=
"#pb53">53</a>]</span>the sons of our farmers get out of the school so
long as this is the case?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And you see the evil; have you not thought out a
remedy?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, poor me!&rdquo; replied the teacher, shaking his head,
&ldquo;a poor teacher cannot alone fight against prejudices, against
existing influences. Above all, I would need to have a school house, so
that I would not, as I do now, have to teach from the priest&rsquo;s
carriage, under the convent. There, when the children want to read
aloud, they naturally disturb the Father, who at times comes down and
very nervous, especially when he has his attacks, finds fault with the
children and insults me. You know very well that under such conditions
no one can do any teaching. The child does not respect the teacher from
that moment when he sees him mistreated by some one else without
maintaining his rights. The teacher, if he is to be listened to, or if
his authority is not to be doubted, needs prestige, a good name, moral
strength, and a certain amount of freedom. If you will allow me, I will
give you an illustration. I wished to introduce some reforms and they
laughed at me. In order to remedy the evil that I spoke of a moment
ago, I tried to teach the children Spanish, because, not only does the
Government order it, but because it will be a great advantage for them
to know the language. I employed the simplest method, used simple
phrases and nouns without making use of hard rules, with the
expectation of teaching them the grammar as soon as they had learned
the language. At the end of several weeks, almost all the smarter ones
in the school understood me and were able to compose phrases in
Castellano.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The teacher stopped and seemed to be in doubt. Then, as if he had
made up his mind, he began again.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I ought not to be ashamed of the history of my grievances. If
any one had been in my place, he would have had the same story to tell.
As I was saying, I began well. Several days later the priest, who was
then Father D&aacute;maso, sent the sacristan mayor to tell me that he
wanted to see me. As I knew his character and was afraid to make him
wait for me, I went up immediately, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb54"
href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>saluted him and said good morning to him in
Spanish. As was customary, when I saluted him, I advanced to kiss the
hand which he held out, but just at that moment he withdrew it and,
without replying to me, began to chuckle scoffingly. I was naturally
disconcerted, and it was all done in the presence of the <span class=
"corr" id="xd0e1564" title="Source: sacristian">sacristan</span> mayor.
At the moment, I did not know what to say. I stood and looked at him
while he went on laughing. I had already become impatient and saw that
I was on the point of <span class="corr" id="xd0e1567" title="Source:
commiting">committing</span> an indiscretion. All of a sudden, he
stopped laughing and added insult to injury. With a cunning air, he
said to me: &lsquo;So it is <i lang="es">buenos dias</i>, eh? <i lang=
"es">buenos dias</i>, ha, ha! How funny! Why, you know how to speak
Spanish, do you?&rsquo; And then he continued his laugh.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra could not keep back his smile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You laugh,&rdquo; replied the teacher, also smiling. &ldquo;I
confess that I did not feel like smiling at that time. I felt the blood
rush to my head, and a thunderbolt seemed to dazzle my brain. I saw the
priest far off, very far from me. I started toward him to reply. The
sacristan mayor interposed and said very seriously, in Tagalog:
&lsquo;You want to stop wearing borrowed clothes. Be content to speak
in your own language and do not spoil Spanish, which is not meant for
you. You have heard about Ciruela? Well, Ciruela was a teacher who did
not know how to read, but he taught school.&rsquo; I wanted to detain
him for a moment, but he went quickly into his room and closed the door
violently. What was I to do? In order to collect my salary I have to
have the approval of the priest on my bill, and have to make a journey
to the capital of the province. What could I do to him&mdash;the moral,
political and civil authority of the town, sustained by his
corporation, feared by the Government, rich, powerful, always
consulting, advising, listening, believing and attending to
everything&mdash;what could I do to him? If he insulted me, I had to
keep my mouth closed. If I talked back, he would throw me out of work,
spoiling my career. And what good would it do&mdash;education? On the
contrary, everybody would take up the priest&rsquo;s side of the
matter; they would criticise <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb55" href=
"#pb55">55</a>]</span>me, they would call me vain, proud, arrogant, a
poor Christian, poorly educated, and when not this, they would call me
an anti-Spaniard and an agitator. The school teacher should have no
authority. He should only be lazy, humble, and resigned to his low
position. May God pardon me if I do not speak conscientiously and
truthfully, but I was born in this country, I have to live, I have a
mother to support and I have to be resigned to my lot.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And have you continued to be discouraged on account of this
trouble? Have you attempted nothing since?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Would to God that it had ended there!&rdquo; he replied.
&ldquo;Would to God that that had been the end of my misfortunes. The
truth is that from that day I began to take a dislike to my profession.
Every day the school brought to my mind my disgrace and made every hour
a bitter one for me. But what could I do? I could not disappoint my
mother. I had to tell her that the three years of sacrifices which she
had made for me in order that I might learn the profession now made me
happy. I had to make her believe that the profession was a most
honorable one, that the work was most pleasant, that the road was
strewn with flowers and that the fulfillment of my duty produced
nothing but friendships. If I had told her the contrary, I myself would
still be as unhappy and would only make another unhappy, which was not
only useless but a sin. So, I kept at my work and tried not to be
discouraged. I tried to fight it down.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The school teacher made a short pause and then began again.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You know that the books in most of the schools are in
Spanish, excepting the Tagalog catechism, which varies according to the
corporation which appoints the priest of the parish. The books
generally used in the school are novenaries, the &lsquo;Doxology&rsquo;
and Father Astete&rsquo;s catechism, which are no more edifying than
the books of heretics. On account of the fact that it was impossible to
teach the children Spanish, as I wanted to do, and owing to the fact
that I could not translate so many books into the native language, I
decided to try to substitute <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb56" href=
"#pb56">56</a>]</span>for them gradually, short verses, extracts from
the best Tagalog books, such as the &lsquo;Treatise on Urbanity&rsquo;
by Hortensio y Feliza, and some of the little pamphlets on agriculture.
Sometimes I myself translated small works, such as the &lsquo;History
of the Philippines,&rsquo; by Father Barranera, and afterward dictated
to the pupils for their note books, adding at times some of my own
observations. As I had no maps to teach them geography, I copied one of
those of the province which I saw in the capital, and with this
reproduction and, by the aid of the tiles on the floor, I was able to
give them some ideas about the country. The new priest sent for me.
Although he did not reprimand me severely, he told me, however, that my
first duty was to teach religion, and that before I began to teach any
such things I must prove by an examination that all the children knew
by heart the &lsquo;Mysteries,&rsquo; the &lsquo;Doxology,&rsquo; and
the &lsquo;Catechism of the Christian Doctrine.&rsquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;So, in the meantime, I am endeavoring to convert the children
into parrots so that they will know by heart all of these things of
which they do not understand a single word. Many of the pupils already
know the &lsquo;Mysteries&rsquo; and the &lsquo;Doxology,&rsquo; but I
fear that I am making Father Astete&rsquo;s efforts useless, inasmuch
as my pupils do not even distinguish between the questions and the
answers, or what either of them signifies. Thus we shall die and thus
shall do those who are yet to be born; yet in Europe they talk about
Progress!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us not be so pessimistic,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, rising
to his feet. &ldquo;The <i>teniente mayor</i> has invited me to attend
a town meeting to be held in the tribunal. Who knows but that some plan
for improvement may there be adopted!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The school teacher arose to go, shaking his head in token of doubt.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb57" href="#pb57">57</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch10" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter X.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Lights and Shadows.</h2>

<p>The people of the town have made their preparation for the festival
in honor of the patron saint, San Diego, and are gossiping about it,
and about the arrival of Maria Clara, accompanied by her aunt Isabel.
They rejoiced over it, because they liked her, and admired her beauty
very much. They also rejoiced in the change it had made in the priest,
Father Salvi. &ldquo;He is often absent-minded during the holy
services,&rdquo; they said. &ldquo;He scarcely speaks with us, and he
plainly grows more thin and taciturn.&rdquo; His cook saw this
constantly and complained of the little honor that he did his dishes.
But what most excited the wonder of the people were the two lights
which one could see shining in the convent during the night, while
Father Salvi was visiting at the house of Maria Clara! The old dames
crossed themselves and kept on gossiping.</p>

<p>Juan Crisostomo Ibarra had telegraphed from the capital of the
province his compliments to Aunt Isabel and her niece, but he had not
explained his absence. Many thought that he had been arrested for
assaulting Father Salvi on the afternoon of &ldquo;All Saint&rsquo;s
Day.&rdquo; But the comments increased still more when, on the
afternoon of the third day, they saw Ibarra get out of a carriage in
front of the little house of his betrothed, and courteously salute the
priest, who was also making his way thither.</p>

<p>If we go to Maria Clara&rsquo;s house, we will find it like a little
nest among orange and <i>ilang-ilang</i> trees, surrounded by flowers
and vines which creep up on bamboo sticks and wires, diffusing their
delicious perfume. The rich fragrance of the <i>ilang-ilang</i> reaches
even to the window which looks out on the lake. Here sit the two young
lovers. Ibarra was saying to Maria Clara:</p>

<p>&ldquo;To-morrow, before the first ray of morning, your desire shall
be fulfilled. To-night, I shall arrange all so that nothing will be
lacking.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb58" href=
"#pb58">58</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Then I will write to my friends, so that they may come along.
Arrange it so that the priest cannot come.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And why?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because he seems to be watching me. His deep and sombre eyes
pain me. When he fixes them upon me, they frighten me. He speaks to me
of extraordinary things, so incomprehensible, so strange. He asked me
once if I had not dreamed about my mother&rsquo;s letters. I believe he
is half crazy. My friend Sinang, and Andeng, my foster sister, say that
he is a little out of his head, for he neither eats nor bathes, and he
lives entirely in the darkness. Don&rsquo;t have him come!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;We cannot but invite him,&rdquo; replied Ibarra. &ldquo;The
customs of the country require it. He is the priest of your house and,
besides, he has conducted himself nobly toward me. When the <i>
Alcalde</i> consulted him on the business of which I have spoken to
you, he had nothing but praises for me and did not pretend to offer the
slightest obstacle. But I see that you are serious. I shall take care
that he does not accompany us in the boat.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Light steps were heard. They were those of the priest, who was
approaching with a forced smile on his lips. They began to talk of
different subjects, about the weather, the town and the festival. Maria
Clara devised an excuse and went out.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And while we are speaking about festivals,&rdquo; said
Ibarra, &ldquo;allow me to invite you to the one which we are going to
celebrate to-morrow. It is going to be a country picnic, which we and
our friends are planning.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And where will it be held?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The girls want to hold it near the brook in the woods, near
the <i>balit&icirc;</i> tree. So we will have to get up early to reach
the place before the sun gets hot.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The priest reflected, and a moment later replied: &ldquo;The
invitation is very tempting, and I accept it in order to prove that I
hold no grudge against you for what has happened in the past. But I
will have to be a little late, as I must fulfill my religious duties
first. How happy to be like you, entirely free and
independent!&rdquo;</p>

<p>A few minutes later, Ibarra took his leave in order to arrange for
the picnic on the following day. It was already quite dark when he left
the house. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb59" href=
"#pb59">59</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch11" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Fishing Party.</h2>

<p>The stars were still shining in the sapphire heavens, and the birds
were sleeping on the branches of the trees, when a jolly little party,
by the light from the pitch torches, wandered through the streets of
the town toward the lake.</p>

<p>Five young maidens, clinging to each other&rsquo;s hands or belts,
tripped along briskly. Behind them came several elderly women and a
number of servants gracefully carrying on their heads baskets filled
with provisions and various dishes for the picnic. On seeing their
joyful faces, with their youthful smiles, their beautiful black hair as
it floated in the breeze, and the wide folds of their pretty dresses,
you would have taken them for goddesses of the night and would have
thought that they were fleeing from day&mdash;if perchance you had not
already known that it was Maria Clara and her four friends: jolly
Sinang; her cousin, the serious Victoria; beautiful Iday; and the
pensive Neneng, pretty, modest and timid.</p>

<p>They were talking with animation; they laughed; pinched each other;
whispered in each other&rsquo;s ears and then burst out in shouts of
merriment.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You girls will wake up everybody in town. Don&rsquo;t you
know that people are still asleep?&rdquo; said Aunt Isabel,
reprimanding them. &ldquo;When we were young, we didn&rsquo;t make such
a noise.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But you didn&rsquo;t get up as early as we do, nor were the
old men such great sleepers in your day,&rdquo; replied little
Sinang.</p>

<p>They were quiet for a moment and were trying to talk in a low voice,
but they quickly forgot themselves and were again filling the streets
with their youthful laughter and melodious voices. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb60" href="#pb60">60</a>]</span></p>

<p>Several young fellows were coming down the street, lighting their
way with large bamboo torches. They were marching along almost
noiselessly to the tune of a guitar.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That guitar sounds as though some beggar were playing
it,&rdquo; said Sinang, laughing. But when the young fellows caught up
with the rest of the party, the girls suddenly became as quiet and as
serious as though they never had learned how to laugh. The young men,
however, chatted away, saluted the ladies, laughed and smiled and asked
half a dozen questions without giving the girls time to answer any one
of them.</p>

<p>The two large <i>bancas</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd0e1676src"
href="#xd0e1676">1</a> which had been secured to transport the picnic
party to the fishing grounds, were fastened together and picturesquely
adorned with wreaths and garlands of flowers and a large number of
vari-colored candles. Paper lanterns hung from the improvised covering
of the <i>bancas</i>. Alternately with these were roses, pinks and
baskets of fruits such as pineapples, <i>kasuys</i>, bananas, <i>
guayabas</i> and <i>lanzones</i>. Ibarra had brought his carpets,
blankets and rugs and arranged comfortable seats for the ladies. The
poles and paddles used to propel the <i>bancas</i> had also been
ornamented. In the better <i>banca</i> were a harp, guitars,
accordeons, and a buffalo horn; while, in the other boat, a little fire
had been lighted in an improvised stove in order that tea, coffee and
<i>salabat</i><a class="noteref" id="xd0e1699src" href=
"#xd0e1699">2</a> might be prepared for the light breakfast.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The women sit here; the men, there,&rdquo; said the mothers
on stepping into the <i>banca</i>. &ldquo;Sit still and don&rsquo;t
move, or we will be capsized.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Cross yourselves before we start,&rdquo; said Aunt Isabel, as
she traced the form of a cross on her breast.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And are we to be here all by ourselves,&rdquo; asked Sinang,
on seeing how the girls had been separated from the young men, by the
assignment of the seats. Then making a grimace she asked again,
&ldquo;Are we going to be all alone? <i>Aray!</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>This <i>aray</i> was caused by a little pinch which her mother had
given her on the arm in the way of a reprimand for her complaint. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb61" href="#pb61">61</a>]</span></p>

<p>The <i>bancas</i> were now putting off slowly from the shore. The
light from the torches and Japanese lanterns was reflected in the
water, for the lake was as smooth as a mirror. In the far eastern
horizon could be seen the first rosy tints of the approaching dawn.</p>

<p>Everything was very quiet. The young women, in consequence of the
separation from the young men, seemed to be absorbed in meditation.</p>

<p>As the water was smooth as glass and the bamboo weirs where the fish
were to be found were not far off, and, it was still early, it was
decided that all should stop paddling and take breakfast. The lights
were put out, for the day had dawned and preparations were made for <i>
desayuno</i>.<a class="noteref" id="xd0e1732src" href=
"#xd0e1732">3</a></p>

<p>The entire party became jolly as they breathed in the light breeze
that had come up. Even the women, so full of presentiments a few
moments ago, were now laughing and joking among themselves.</p>

<p>One young man alone of all the party remained silent. He was the
pilot, an athletic-looking fellow, and interesting on account of his
large, sad eyes and the severe lines of his lips. His long, black hair
fell gracefully over his powerful neck. He wore a shirt of coarse dark
cloth, through which his powerful muscles could be plainly seen as he
manipulated with his strong arms the wide, heavy paddle as if it were
only a pen. This paddle served both to propel and to steer the <i>
bancas</i>.</p>

<p>More than once he was embarrassed when he caught Maria Clara looking
at him. Then he would turn his eyes quickly to some other direction and
look far off toward the mountain, or the shore of the lake. The young
maiden pitied him in his solitude and offered him some biscuits. The
pilot looked at her with surprise, but only for a moment. He took the
biscuits, thanked her very briefly and in a voice scarcely audible.</p>

<p>No one else took any notice of him. The happy laughter and jolly
conversation of the young men did not cause him to relax a single
muscle of his face. Not even Sinang, with all her jollity, had any
effect on him. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb62" href=
"#pb62">62</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; said Aunt Isabel to the boatman&rsquo;s
son, who had made ready his net and was just about to go up on the <i>
baklad</i> to take out the fish from the little enclosure at the end of
the weir. &ldquo;We must have everything ready, so that the fish may
pass directly from the water to the pot.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Andeng, the pretty foster sister of Maria Clara, despite her clear
complexion and laughing face, had the reputation of being a good cook.
She prepared the rice, tomatoes, and <i>camias</i>,<a class="noteref"
id="xd0e1757src" href="#xd0e1757">4</a> while some of the young men
tried to aid or bother her, perhaps in order to win her good will. The
other girls were busy cleaning and making ready the lettuce, cabbage
and peas, and cutting up paayap in pieces about the size of a
cigarette.</p>

<p>Finally Andeng announced that the kettle was ready to receive its
guests&mdash;the fish.</p>

<p>The fisherman&rsquo;s son went up on top of the rack at the end of
the weir. He took a position at the narrow entrance, over which might
have been written: &ldquo;All who enter here leave hope behind,&rdquo;
if indeed the unfortunate fish would know how to read and understand
it, for a fish who enters never gets out except to die. The rack is
almost circular in form and about a meter in diameter, and is so
arranged that a man can stand on top of one end of it and thus take out
the fish with his net.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There, it wouldn&rsquo;t tire me a bit to fish that
way,&rdquo; said Sinang, quite joyful.</p>

<p>All were watching attentively. Already some of them in their vivid
imaginations thought they could see the fish wiggling their tails and
trying to get out of the little net, their scales shining in the bright
sun. However, the young man failed to catch a single fish in his first
attempt.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It ought to be full of fish,&rdquo; said Albino, in a low
voice. &ldquo;It is more than five days since we visited the place
last.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The fisherman drew out his net a second time, but not a fish was
there in it. The water, as it trickled through the meshes of the net in
countless drops which reflected <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb63"
href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>the rays of the sun, seemed to laugh in
silvery tones. An &ldquo;Ah&rdquo; of surprise, disgust, and
disappointment escaped from the lips of all.</p>

<p>The young fellow repeated the same operation, but with a similar
result.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t understand your business!&rdquo; said Albino
to him as he stepped up on the rack and took the net from the hands of
the youngster. &ldquo;Now you will see! Andeng, open up the
kettle!&rdquo;</p>

<p>But Albino did not understand his business, either. The net came up
empty as before. All began to laugh.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t make any noise,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;or the
fish will hear it and will keep from being caught. This net must have a
hole in it somewhere.&rdquo;</p>

<p>But every mesh in the net was perfect.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let me take it!&rdquo; said Leon, Iday&rsquo;s lover, to
Albino.</p>

<p>Leon first made sure that the enclosure was in good condition and
then examined the net carefully and satisfied himself that there was
nothing wrong with it. He then asked: &ldquo;Are you sure that no one
has been out here for five days?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;We are sure! The last time any one was out here was on All
Saints&rsquo; Day.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I am going to bring out something this time,
unless the lake is bewitched.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Leon lowered the net by its bamboo handle into the water, but a look
of surprise was painted on his face. In silence he looked toward the
neighboring mountain and continued moving the handle of the net from
one side to the other. Finally, without taking the net out of the
water, he murmured in a low voice: &ldquo;An alligator.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;An alligator!&rdquo; exclaimed half a dozen voices, and the
word was repeated again while all stood frightened and stupefied.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo; they asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I say that there is an alligator caught in the rack,&rdquo;
said Leon, and sticking the handle of the net into the water again he
continued: &ldquo;Do you hear that sound? That is not sand, it is hard
skin, the back of the alligator. Do you see how he wiggles the bamboo
pickets in the rack? He is struggling hard but he cannot do anything.
Wait. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb64" href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>He
is a large fellow; his body measures a palm or more in
width.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What shall be done?&rdquo; was the question.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Catch him,&rdquo; said one.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Jes&uacute;s!</i> And who will catch him?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Nobody offered to dive down to the bottom of the rack. The water was
very deep.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We ought to tie him to our <i>banca</i> and drag him along in
triumph,&rdquo; said Sinang. &ldquo;The idea of his eating the fish
which we ought to have!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have never seen to this day a live alligator,&rdquo; said
Maria Clara.</p>

<p>The pilot rose to his feet, took a long rope and went up cautiously
to the platform on the top of the rack. Leon gave up his position to
him.</p>

<p>With the exception of Maria Clara, none up till now had paid any
attention to him. Now every one was admiring his fine stature.</p>

<p>To the great surprise of all and in spite of all their cries, the
pilot leaped into the enclosure.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take this knife!&rdquo; shouted Crisostomo, drawing out a
wide-bladed Toledo knife.</p>

<p>But already a thousand little bubbles were rising to the surface of
the water, and all that was going on in the depths below was wrapped in
mystery.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Jes&uacute;s, Maria y Jos&eacute;!</i>&rdquo; exclaimed
the women. &ldquo;We are going to have a misfortune. <i>Jes&uacute;s,
Maria y Jos&eacute;!</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be alarmed, se&ntilde;oras,&rdquo; said the old
boatman. &ldquo;If there is any one in this province who can do it, it
is that fellow who has just gone down.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is his name?&rdquo; they asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We call him &lsquo;The Pilot&rsquo;; he is the best I have
ever seen, only he does not like his profession.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The water was being stirred violently, and it seemed that a fierce
fight was being waged in the depths of the lake. The sides of the
enclosure swayed to and fro, while the water seemed to be swirled by a
dozen currents. All held their breath. Ibarra grasped tightly the
handle of his sharp knife.</p>

<p>The fight seemed to be at an end. The head of the young man rose to
the surface of the water, and the sight <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb65" href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>was greeted by joyful shouts from
all. The eyes of the women were full of tears.</p>

<p>The pilot crawled up on the platform carrying in his hand the end of
the rope, and as soon as he was able pulled on it.</p>

<p>The monster appeared on top of the water. He had the rope tied twice
around his neck, and once behind his forelegs. He was a large fellow,
as Leon had already announced. He was beautifully colored and green
moss was growing on his back. He bellowed like an ox, struck his tail
against the sides of the enclosure, snapped at them, and opened his
black, frightful-looking mouth, showing his long teeth.</p>

<p>The pilot, unassisted, raised him up out of the water. No one
offered to help him. Just as soon as the animal was out of the water
and placed on the platform, the pilot put his foot on his back. Then,
closing the animal&rsquo;s massive jaws, he tried to tie his big snout
tight with the rope. The reptile made a last effort, doubled up his
body, struck the floor of the platform with his powerful tail and,
breaking loose, made a leap into the water of the lake, on the other
side of the weir, at the same time dragging with him his captor. It
seemed that the pilot would be a dead man. A cry of horror went up from
all.</p>

<p>Like a flash of lightning, another body leaped into the water. So
quickly was it done that they had scarcely time to see that it was
Ibarra. Maria Clara did not faint, simply because the Filipinos do not
know how to faint.</p>

<p>They all saw the water become colored, and tinged with blood. The
young fisherman leaped to the bottom with his bolo in his hand; his
father followed him. But, scarcely had they disappeared, when they saw
Crisostomo and the pilot reappear, clinging to the body of the reptile.
The monster&rsquo;s white belly was slashed, while in his throat the
knife still stuck like a nail.</p>

<p>It is impossible to describe the joy that came over the party at the
sight; all arms were extended to help them out of the water. The old
women were half crazed with joy, and laughed and prayed. Andeng forgot
that her kettle had been boiling three different times; now it was
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb66" href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>leaking
and had put out the fire. The only one who could not speak was Maria
Clara.</p>

<p>Ibarra was unhurt. The pilot had a slight scratch on his arm.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I owe you my life!&rdquo; said he to Ibarra as the latter
wrapped himself up in the shawls and blankets. The voice of the pilot
had a ring of sincerity.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are too bold,&rdquo; replied Ibarra. &ldquo;Another time
you must not tempt God.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you had never come back!&rdquo; exclaimed Maria, pale and
trembling.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I had never come back and you had followed after
me,&rdquo; replied the young man, &ldquo;I would have been with all my
family in the bottom of the lake.&rdquo; Ibarra was thinking that in
those depths lay the remains of his father.</p>

<p>The mothers of the girls did not want to go to the other <i>
baklad</i> or weir. They preferred to go back home happy, for the day
had commenced with a bad omen and they feared that they would suffer
many misfortunes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is all because we have not heard mass,&rdquo; sighed one
of them.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But what misfortune have we had, se&ntilde;oras?&rdquo; asked
Ibarra. &ldquo;The alligator was the unfortunate one.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That goes to show,&rdquo; concluded Albino, &ldquo;that, in
all his fishing life, this reptile has never heard mass. I never saw
him, I am sure, among the other reptiles who frequent the
church.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>bancas</i> were turned toward the other fish rack, and it was
necessary for Andeng to get the water boiling again.</p>

<p>The day was advancing; a breeze was blowing; little waves were
stirred up on the water, and rippled around the alligator. The music
began again. Iday was playing the harp, while the young men were
playing the accordeons and guitars with more or less skill. But the one
who played best was Albino.</p>

<p>The other weir was visited with an entire lack of confidence. Many
of the party expected to find there the mate to the alligator, but
Nature fooled them and every time that the net was lowered it was
brought up full of fish. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb67" href=
"#pb67">67</a>]</span></p>

<p>They then headed for the shore of the lake, where is situated the
forest of trees centuries old, owned by Ibarra. There in the shade and
near the crystal brook the party were to take their breakfast among the
flowers or under improvised tents. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb68"
href="#pb68">68</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1676src" id="xd0e1676">1</a></span> A narrow canoe.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1699src" id="xd0e1699">2</a></span> A drink made of honey and
ginger.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1732src" id="xd0e1732">3</a></span> A light, early breakfast.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e1757src" id="xd0e1757">4</a></span> A native fruit.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch12" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">In the Woods.</h2>

<p>Very early that morning Father Salv&iacute; had said mass, cleaning,
according to his custom, a dozen dirty souls in a few minutes. The
reading of a few letters, which had arrived well sealed with wax,
seemed to cause the worthy curate to lose his appetite, for he allowed
his chocolate to get cold.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Father is ill,&rdquo; said the cook as he prepared
another cup. &ldquo;It is several days since he has eaten anything; of
six dishes which I put on the table for him, he has not touched
two.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It must be that he does not sleep well,&rdquo; replied the
servant. &ldquo;He has nightmare since he changed his bedroom. Every
day his eyes are sinking deeper, he grows gradually thinner, and is
very yellow.&rdquo;</p>

<p>As a matter of fact, it was a pitiful sight to behold Father
Salv&iacute;. He did not care to touch his second cup of chocolate, nor
to taste the Cebu cakes. He walked pensively to and fro in the spacious
<i>sala</i>, crumpling between his bony fingers some letters which he
would read from time to time. Finally, he called for his carriage, got
ready and ordered the coachman to take him to the woods where the
picnic was to be held. Arriving at the place, Father Salv&iacute;
dismissed the carriage and all alone, entered the forest.</p>

<p>A shady but difficult path runs through the thicket and leads to the
brook which is formed by the hot springs so plentiful at the base of
Mount Makiling.</p>

<p>For some time, Father Salv&iacute; was wandering among the thick
underbrush, here trying to evade the thorns which entangled his habit
of <i>guingon</i> as if to detain him; there trying to step over the
roots of the trees which stuck up through the ground and made the
inexperienced traveler <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb69" href=
"#pb69">69</a>]</span>stumble again and again. Suddenly he stopped.
Mirthful laughter and the sound of young voices reached his ears. The
voices and the laughter seemed to come from the direction of the brook
and each time seemed to be coming nearer.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am going to see if I can find a heron&rsquo;s nest,&rdquo;
said a voice, beautiful and sweet, and at once recognized by the
curate. &ldquo;You know they say that if a person possesses one of
those nests he can make himself invisible to everybody. How I would
like to see <i>him</i> and not have him see me! I could follow him
everywhere.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; hid behind the thick trunk of an old tree and
listened.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is to say, you want to do with him what the curate does
with you: watch him everywhere?&rdquo; replied the merry voice.
&ldquo;Be careful, for jealousy makes one grow thin and the eyes sink
in.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, no. It is not jealousy, it is pure curiosity,&rdquo;
replied the silvery voice, while the other repeated, &ldquo;yes, yes,
jealousy; that&rsquo;s what it is.&rdquo; And then she broke out in a
merry chuckle.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I were jealous of <i>him</i> I would not use the
heron&rsquo;s nest to make myself invisible to him, but would make him
invisible to everybody else.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But then you yourself would not be able to see him and you
would not want that to happen. The best thing to do, if we find a
heron&rsquo;s nest is to give it to the priest. Then he could watch us
as much as he pleased, and we would not be troubled with the sight of
him. What do you think of the idea?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t believe in the story about the
heron&rsquo;s nests, anyway,&rdquo; replied one. &ldquo;But if I were
really jealous I would know how to keep watch of a person and make
myself invisible....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And how? How would you do it? Perhaps you would do as Sister
Listener does in the convent?&rdquo;</p>

<p>This reference to days passed in the convent provoked a jolly laugh
all around.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; saw from his hiding-place Maria Clara, Victoria,
and Sinang, wading in the stream. All three were looking into the
water, which was like a mirror, in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb70"
href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>search of the heron&rsquo;s nest. They were
getting wet up to their knees, the wide folds of their bathing skirts
allowing one to guess how graceful were the curves of their limbs. They
were wearing their hair loose and their arms were bare. Striped,
bright-colored bodices covered their breasts. The three lasses, at the
same time that they were hunting for that which did not exist,
collected flowers and plants which were growing on the banks of the
stream.</p>

<p>The religious Acteon, pale and immovable, stood gazing upon Maria
Clara, that chaste Diana. The eyes which shone in those dark orbits
never tired of admiring those white and beautiful arms, that pretty,
round neck, those tiny and rosy feet as they played in the water. As he
contemplated all this, strange feelings were awakened in his breast,
new dreams took possession of his burning mind.</p>

<p>The three pretty forms disappeared in a thick growth of bamboo
behind a bend in the stream, but their cruel allusions could still be
heard by the curate. Intoxicated with the strange ideas in his head,
staggering, and covered with perspiration, Father Salv&iacute; left his
hiding-place and looked about him in all directions with staring eyes.
He stood immovable, in doubt. He took a few steps as if to follow the
young women, but he turned about, and walked along the bank of the
stream in order to find the rest of the picnic party.</p>

<p>Some distance ahead, in the middle of the stream, he could see a
bathing place well enclosed by bamboo. He could hear, merry laughter
and feminine accents coming from that direction. Still further down the
stream he could see a bamboo bridge and some men in bathing. In the
meantime, a multitude of servants were bustling about the improvised
fireplaces, some engaged in plucking chickens, others in washing rice
and roasting pig. And there on the opposite bank, in a clearing which
had been made, were a number of men and women under a tent. The tent
had been made by hanging canvas from the limbs of some of the old trees
and by erecting a few poles. There in the group was the <i>alferez</i>,
the <i>teniente mayor</i>, the coadjutor, the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>,
the school teacher, a number, of past captains and lieutenants,
including even <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb71" href=
"#pb71">71</a>]</span>Captain Basilio, who was Sinang&rsquo;s father,
and the former rival of the deceased Don Rafael. Ibarra had said to
him: &ldquo;The mere fact that we are parties to a law-suit does not
mean that we have to be enemies.&rdquo; So it was that the celebrated
orator of the conservative party had accepted the invitation to the
picnic with enthusiasm, and had even brought along three turkeys and
put his servants at the disposition of the young man.</p>

<p>The parish priest was received with respect and deference by all,
even by the <i>alferez</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But where did Your Reverence come from?&rdquo; some one asked
on seeing his face full of scratches, and his habit covered with leaves
and pieces of dried branches. &ldquo;Has Your Reverence fallen
down?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, I lost my way,&rdquo; replied Father Salv&iacute;,
looking down and examining his clothes.</p>

<p>Bottles of lemonade were opened, green cocoanuts were cut in two so
that those who were coming out of the bath might have the refreshing
milk to drink and the delicate meat to eat. The young women in addition
received rosaries of <i>sampagas</i> interwoven with roses and <i>
ilang-ilang</i>, which gave a beautiful fragrance to their loose hair.
Some were sitting or lying in hammocks which had been hung from the
branches of the trees; others were entertaining themselves in a game
that was going on around a large, flat stone. Playing cards, checkers,
dice and many other games were in progress.</p>

<p>They showed the alligator to the curate, but he seemed absorbed and
paid no attention until they mentioned the fact that the wide wound in
the animal&rsquo;s neck had been made by Ibarra. Then, too, the pilot,
the principal figure in the incident, had disappeared and could not be
found anywhere.</p>

<p>Finally Maria Clara came out of the bath, accompanied by her
friends, fresh as a rose when first it blooms, and when the dew on its
divine petals glistens like diamonds. Her first smile was for Ibarra;
and her first frown for Father Salv&iacute;. The latter noticed this,
but he did not even sigh.</p>

<p>It was now time to eat. The curate, the coadjutor, the <i>
alferez</i>, the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, and some of the captains,
together <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb72" href=
"#pb72">72</a>]</span>with the <i>tenente mayor</i> sat down at the
table over which Ibarra presided. The mothers of the girls did not
allow any one to eat at the table with their charges.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know anything yet, Se&ntilde;or Alferez, about the
criminal who assaulted Father D&aacute;maso?&rdquo; asked Father
Salv&iacute;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;About what criminal, Father?&rdquo; asked the <i>alferez</i>,
looking at the parish priest through his empty wine glass.</p>

<p>&ldquo;About whom could it be? About the one who, day before
yesterday, struck Father D&aacute;maso, of course.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Struck Father D&aacute;maso?&rdquo; asked a number of
voices.</p>

<p>The coadjutor was seen to smile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes; and Father D&aacute;maso is now in bed. It is believed
that the culprit was that same Elias who once threw you into a
mud-hole, Se&ntilde;or Alferez.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> colored up a little, either from shame or too
much wine.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I thought that you were interested in the affair,&rdquo;
continued Father Salv&iacute;, with a little jeering in his manner.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> bit his lips and mumbled out a silly excuse.</p>

<p>The meal ended and, while tea and coffee were being served, the
young and old distributed themselves about in various groups. Some
picked up playing cards and others dice, but the young women, anxious
to know the future, preferred to try their luck with the wheel of
fortune.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come, Se&ntilde;or Ibarra,&rdquo; shouted Captain Basilio,
who was a little bit jolly. &ldquo;We have a law-suit that has been
pending for fifteen years, and there isn&rsquo;t a judge in the Supreme
Court in Manila who can decide it. Let us see if we can settle it on
the chess board. What do you say?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The game of chess began with much solemnity.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If the game is a draw,&rdquo; said Ibarra, &ldquo;it is
understood that the suit is off.&rdquo;</p>

<p>About the middle of the game, Ibarra received a telegram which made
his eyes glisten and his face grow pale. He put it in his pocket-book,
not, however, without directing a glance at the group of young women
who continued with much laughter to play the wheel of fortune.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Check to the king!&rdquo; said the young man. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb73" href="#pb73">73</a>]</span></p>

<p>Captain Basilio had no other resort than to hide him behind the
queen.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Check to the queen!&rdquo; said Ibarra, threatening it with
his rook, which was defended by a pawn.</p>

<p>Not being able to cover the queen, nor to retire it on account of
the fact that the king was behind it, Captain Basilio asked permission
to study the situation a little.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Certainly, with much pleasure,&rdquo; replied Ibarra.
&ldquo;I will take advantage of the opportunity, for I have something
to say to some of the members of that group over there.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And rising to his feet, he gave his opponent half an hour to study
it out.</p>

<p>Iday held in her hands the strip of cardboard on which was written
forty-eight questions, while Albino held the book which contained the
answers.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a lie! It&rsquo;s not so! It lies!&rdquo; cried
Sinang, half in tears.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you?&rdquo; asked Maria Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Just imagine it: I asked the question &lsquo;When will I have
some sense?&rsquo; I threw the dice and he, this all-night-watching
priest (Albino, the ex-seminary student) reads from the book:
&lsquo;When the frogs grow hairs.&rsquo; What do you think of
that?&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Sinang made a face at the former religious student, who was
still laughing heartily.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who told you to ask such a question?&rdquo; said her cousin
Victoria. &ldquo;Any one who asks such a question deserves just such an
answer.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You ask a question!&rdquo; said they all to Ibarra. &ldquo;We
have agreed that the one who receives the best answer shall receive a
gift from the others. We have all asked our questions
already.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And who has received the best answer?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Maria Clara, Maria Clara!&rdquo; replied Sinang. &ldquo;We
made her ask the question whether you loved her or not: &lsquo;Is your
lover faithful and constant,&rsquo; and the book
replied&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>But Maria Clara colored up, and, putting her hands over
Sinang&rsquo;s mouth, did not allow her to finish what she had to say.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb74" href="#pb74">74</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, let me try it,&rdquo; said Crisostomo, smiling.</p>

<p>He asked the question: &ldquo;Will I succeed in my present
undertaking?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are going to get a bad answer,&rdquo; exclaimed
Sinang.</p>

<p>Ibarra threw the dice, and noting the number, they looked for the
page in the little book with the corresponding answer.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Dreams are only dreams,&rdquo; read Albino.</p>

<p>Ibarra took out his pocket-book and opened it trembling.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This time your book has lied,&rdquo; he said, full of joy.
&ldquo;Read this!&rdquo;</p>

<hr class="tb">
<p>&ldquo;Plan for school house approved; other matter decided in your
favor.&rdquo;</p>

<hr class="tb">
<p>&ldquo;What does that mean?&rdquo; they all asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you not tell me that the one who received the best answer
was to get a present?&rdquo; the young man asked, his voice trembling
with emotion while he carefully divided the paper into two parts.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, then! This is my gift,&rdquo; he said handing half of
the telegram to Maria Clara. &ldquo;I am going to have a school house
for boys and girls erected in the town. This school house will be my
gift.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And this other piece: what does that mean?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I will give that to the one who has obtained the worst
answer.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then that is for me!&rdquo; exclaimed Sinang.</p>

<p>Ibarra gave her the piece of paper and quickly went off.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what does this mean?&rdquo;</p>

<p>But the happy young man was already far away from the little group
and he did not reply. He had gone to finish the game of chess.</p>

<p>After making the present to his betrothed, Ibarra was so happy that
he began to play without stopping to think or even examining carefully
the position of the chess. As a result, although Captain Basilio had
defended himself <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb75" href=
"#pb75">75</a>]</span>only by the greatest effort, the young man made
so many mistakes that the game resulted in a draw.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We end the suit, we end the suit!&rdquo; said Captain
Basilio, happy over his success.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, we declare it off,&rdquo; repeated the young man,
&ldquo;whatever decision the judges may have been able to
reach.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Each grasped the hand of the other and shook it with effusion.</p>

<p>In the meantime, while those present were celebrating the ending of
the law-suit, of which both had long been tired, four Civil Guards and
a sergeant suddenly arrived on the scene. They were all armed and had
their bayonets fixed, a fact which naturally disturbed the merriment
and brought fright into the circle of women.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let everybody be quiet!&rdquo; cried the sergeant.
&ldquo;Whoever moves will be shot!&rdquo;</p>

<p>In spite of this gruff boast, Ibarra rose to his feet and approached
the sergeant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you wish?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That you give up at once the criminal named Elias who acted
as pilot for your party this morning,&rdquo; he replied, in a
threatening tone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;A criminal? The pilot? You must be mistaken!&rdquo; replied
Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, sir; that Elias is now accused of another crime, of
having laid his hands on a priest&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! And is the pilot the one?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is the same one, so we are told. You are allowing people
of bad reputation to attend your festivals, Se&ntilde;or
Ibarra.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him from head to foot and replied with supreme
contempt: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t have to account to you for my actions.
At our festivals everybody is well received, and you yourself, if you
had come, would have been given a seat at the table, the same as the
<i>alferez</i> who was here among us two hours ago.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Saying this, Ibarra turned his back to him. The sergeant bit his
mustache and ordered his men to search everywhere among the trees for
the pilot, whose description he had on a piece of paper. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb76" href="#pb76">76</a>]</span></p>

<p>Don Filipo said to him: &ldquo;Take note that this description
corresponds to that of nine-tenths of the natives. Take care that you
do not make a mistake!&rdquo;</p>

<p>At last the soldiers returned, saying that they had not been able to
discover either a <i>banca</i>, or a man that aroused their suspicion.
The sergeant murmured a few indistinct words and then marched off.</p>

<p>Soon the people became jolly again, but questions, wonder and
comments were without end.</p>

<p>So the afternoon passed and the hour for departure arrived. Just as
the sun was dropping below the horizon they left the woods. The trees
seemed sad and all the surroundings seemed to bid them farewell and
say: &ldquo;Good-bye, happy youth; good-bye, dream of a day.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And a little later, by the light of glowing torches of bamboo and
with the music of guitars, we leave them on the road toward the town.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb77" href="#pb77">77</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch13" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">In the House of Tasio.</h2>

<p>On the morning of the following day, Juan Crisostomo Ibarra, after
visiting his estates, went to the house of Tasio, the philosopher, his
father&rsquo;s friend.</p>

<p>Quiet reigned in the old man&rsquo;s garden. The swallows were
flying about the gables of the house, but they were making scarcely a
sound. The windows were covered with vines which clung to the old,
moss-covered wall and made the house appear all the more solitary and
quiet. Ibarra tied his horse to a post and, walking almost on tip-toes,
crossed the clean and well-cultivated garden. He went up the stairs
and, as the door was open, walked in. An old man leaned over a book in
which he seemed to be writing. On the walls of the room were
collections of insects and leaves, maps, and some shelves of books and
manuscripts.</p>

<p>Tasio was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice the arrival
of the youth. The latter, not wishing to disturb the philosopher, tried
to retire from the place, but the old man, looking up, said:
&ldquo;What? Are you here?&rdquo; and showed no little surprise in his
look.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, &ldquo;I see that you are
very busy.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;As a matter of fact I was writing a little, but it is not
urgent, and I want to rest myself. Can I be useful to you in any
way?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra drew some papers from his pocket-book and replied: &ldquo;My
father was wont to consult you in many things, and I remember that he
never had to do other than congratulate himself when he followed your
advice. I have on my hands a small undertaking and I want to be assured
of success.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra then related to him briefly his plan for the erection of a
school house in honor of his betrothed. He <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb78" href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>showed the stupefied philosopher
the plans which had been returned from Manila.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I wish that you would advise me as to what persons I ought
first to have on my side in order to make the undertaking most
successful. You are well acquainted with the inhabitants of the town. I
have just arrived here and am almost a stranger in my
country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man examined the plans which were laid out before him. His
eyes were full of tears.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That which you are going to carry out was a dream of mine,
the dream of a poor fool,&rdquo; he exclaimed, greatly moved.
&ldquo;And now, my first advice to you is that you never come to
consult me in regard to the matter.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man looked at him in surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because sensible people,&rdquo; he continued, in an ironical
tone, &ldquo;will take you for a fool, like myself. People always
consider every one a fool who does not think just as they do and, for
this reason, they call me crazy. But I am obliged to them for that, for
woe be to me when the time arrives that they say I have sense! That
day, should it ever come, would deprive me of the little liberty which
I have purchased by sacrificing my reputation for being
sane.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And the old man shook his head, as if to drive away a thought and
continued: &ldquo;My second advice to you is that you consult the
curate, the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, and all the people of good
standing. They will all give you bad, foolish and useless advice, but
to consult does not mean to obey. Try to appear to be following their
advice as far as possible and make them think you are working according
to their wishes.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra sat thinking for a moment and then replied: &ldquo;The advice
is good but difficult to follow. Could I not carry out my work without
a shadow reflecting upon it? Could I not carry out the good work in
spite of all? Does truth need to be clothed in the garments of
falsehood?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it. Nobody likes the bare truth.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I hope to be able to realize all my hopes without
encountering great resistance,&rdquo; said Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, if the priests lend you their hand; no, if they draw it
away. All your efforts will be battered to pieces <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb79" href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>against the walls of
the curate&rsquo;s house. The <i>alcalde</i> will deny to you to-morrow
what he has granted you to-day. Not a mother will let her son attend
the school, and then all your efforts will have just an opposite effect
to that intended. You will discourage all others who might wish to
attempt beneficent undertakings.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, &ldquo;I cannot believe
in this power of which you speak. And even supposing it to be true,
admitting that it is as you say, would I not still have on my side the
sensible people and the Government?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Government! The Government!&rdquo; exclaimed the
philosopher, raising his eyes and looking at the ceiling.
&ldquo;However much the Government may desire to uplift the country for
its own benefit and that of the mother country; however generous may be
the Catholic Kings in spirit, I must remind you in confidence that
there is another power which does not allow the Government to see,
hear, or judge except what the curates or provincial priests wish. The
Government is afraid of the advancement of the people, and the people
are afraid of the forces of the Government. So long as the Government
does not understand the people of the country, the country will never
get out from this guardianship. The people will live like weak, young
children who tremble at the sound of the voice of their tutor, whose
mercy they beg. The Government has no dreams of a great future, a
healthy development of the country. The people do not complain, because
they have no voice. They do not move, because they are too carefully
watched. You say that they do not suffer, because you have not seen
what would make your heart bleed. But some day you will see it! alas!
some day you will hear it. When the light of day is thrown on their
monstrous forms, you will see a frightful reaction. That great force,
held back for centuries, that poison, distilled drop by drop, those
sighs, so long repressed&mdash;all will come to light and will some day
burst forth.... Who will then pay the accounts which the people will
present and which History preserves for us on its bloody
pages?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;God, the Government, and the Church will never allow <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb80" href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>that day to
come!&rdquo; replied Crisostomo, impressed in spite of himself.
&ldquo;The Filipinos are religious and they love Spain. The Filipinos
will always know how much this nation has done for them. There are
abuses; yes! There are defects; I do not deny it. But Spain is working
to introduce reforms which will correct them; she is devising plans;
she is not selfish. Can it be that my love for my native land is
incompatible with love for Spain? Is it necessary to lower one&rsquo;s
self to be a good Christian, to prostitute one&rsquo;s own conscience
to bring about good? I love my fatherland, the Philippines, because I
owe to her my life and my happiness&mdash;because every man should love
his native land. I love Spain, the fatherland of my ancestors, because,
in spite of all that may be said, the Philippines owe to Spain, and
always will owe to her, their happiness and their future. I am a
Catholic. I hold dear the belief of my fathers, and I do not see why I
have to bow my head when I am able to raise it; nor why I have to
entrust it to my enemies, when I can trample on them.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because the field in which you are sowing your seed is in the
hands of your enemies, and you are weak in comparison to them.... It is
necessary that you first kiss the hand&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>But the young man did not allow him to go farther and exclaimed
violently: &ldquo;To kiss their hands! You forget that, between them,
they killed my father; they threw his body out of its sepulchre: but I,
I who am his son, I do not forget it, and, if I do not avenge myself,
it is because I consider the prestige of the Church.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old philosopher bowed his head. &ldquo;Se&ntilde;or
Ibarra,&rdquo; he replied slowly, &ldquo;if you keep those
memories&mdash;memories which I cannot advise you to forget&mdash;if
you keep those memories, give up your plans and your undertaking and
try to work good for your countrymen in another way. The undertaking
needs another man than you for its execution, because to carry it out
will not only require money and care, but, in our country, self-denial,
tenacity and faith are also needed. The land is not ready for it; it
has been sown only with darnel.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra understood the weight of these words, but he <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb81" href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>was not going to be
discouraged. Thoughts of Maria Clara filled his mind; he must fulfill
his promise to her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Does not your experience suggest something other than this
hard method?&rdquo; he asked in a low voice.</p>

<p>The old man took him by the arm and led him to the window. A cool
breeze was blowing from the north. Before his eyes lay the garden,
stretching out to the large forest which served as a park.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why do we not have to do the same as that weak young bush
loaded with roses and buds?&rdquo; said the philosopher pointing to a
beautiful rose bush. &ldquo;The wind blows, shakes it and it bends
itself down as if trying to hide its precious load. If the bush kept
itself erect, it would be broken off, the wind would scatter its
flowers and the buds would be blighted. The wind passes over, and the
bush straightens itself up again, proud of its treasure. Thus it would
be with you, a plant transplanted from Europe to this stony ground, if
you did not look about for some support and belittle yourself. Alone
and lofty, you are in bad condition.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And would this sacrifice bring the fruits that I hope
for?&rdquo; asked Ibarra. &ldquo;Would the priest have faith in me and
would he forget the offense? Would his kind not be able to feign
friendship, to make a false show of protecting me, and then, from
behind in the darkness, fight me, harass me and wound my heels, thus
making me waver more quickly than they could by attacking me face to
face? Given these premises, what do you think could be
expected?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man remained silent for some time, not being able to reply.
At last he said: &ldquo;If such a thing took place, if the undertaking
failed, I would console you with the thought that you had done all that
was in your power. And even so, something would be gained. Lay the
first stone, sow the first seed and after the tempest has passed over,
some little grain perhaps would germinate.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I believe you,&rdquo; exclaimed Ibarra, stretching out his
hand. &ldquo;Not in vain did I look for good advice. This very day I
shall go and make friends with the curate.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Taking leave of the old man, he mounted on his horse and rode away.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb82" href="#pb82">82</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Attention!&rdquo; murmured the pessimistic philosopher to
himself, as he followed the young man with his eyes. &ldquo;Let us
observe carefully how Destiny will unfold the tragedy which began in
the cemetery.&rdquo;</p>

<p>But this time the philosopher was truly mistaken. The tragedy had
begun long before. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb83" href=
"#pb83">83</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch14" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XIV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Eve of the Fiesta.</h2>

<p>It is the tenth of November, the eve of the <i>fiesta</i> to be
celebrated in the town of San Diego. Departing from its habitual
monotony, the town is displaying extraordinary activity in the church,
houses, streets, cock-pit, and the fields. Windows are draped with
flags and many-colored decorations. Music and the sound of exploding
fireworks fill the air. Everywhere there is rejoicing.</p>

<p>In the streets at fixed intervals, beautiful arches of bamboo are
raised, the wood carved and worked in a thousand different ways. The
arches are surrounded with ornaments, the very sight of which brings
joy to the heart of the small boy. In the church yard, a large and
costly awning has been erected. It is propped up by bamboo poles and so
arranged that the procession may pass under it. Under its shade the
children play, run, jump, fall and otherwise manage to tear and soil
their new shirts, which have been intended for the day of the
festival.</p>

<p>In the public square a platform has been built of bamboo, nipa and
boards, to serve as the stage. It is here that the comedy company from
Tondo will tell wonderful tales, and will compete with the gods in the
performance of miracles. Here Marianito, Chananay, Balbino, Ratia,
Carvajal, Yeyeng, Liceria and the others will sing and dance. The
Filipino loves the theatre, and always attends dramatic productions
with a great deal of pleasure. The <i>gobernadorcillo</i> was very fond
of the theatre, and, with the advice of the curate, he had selected for
the <i>fiesta</i> the fantastic comedy: &ldquo;Prince Villardo, or the
Nails Pulled Out of the Infamous Cave,&rdquo; a play full of magic and
fireworks.</p>

<p>From time to time the bells ring out their merry sounds.
Firecrackers and the booming of little cannon rend the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb84" href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>air. The Filipino
pyrotechnist, who has learned his art without a teacher of any renown,
displays his skill, setting up pieces representing towers, castles, and
the like. Already the small boys are running at break-neck speed toward
the outskirts of the town to meet the bands of music. Five
organizations have been hired, besides three orchestras.</p>

<p>A band enters the town playing lively marches, and is followed by a
lot of ragged and half naked pickaninnies: this one, perhaps, has on
his brother&rsquo;s shirt; that one, his father&rsquo;s trousers. As
soon as the music stops, these little tots know by memory the piece
that has been played; they whistle and hum it with great delight,
showing at this early age their musical talent.</p>

<p>In the meantime wagons and carriages arrive, bringing relatives,
friends, and strangers. Gamblers are also on hand with their best
fighting cocks and bags of money, ready to risk their fortunes on the
green cloth or in the cock-pit.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>alferez</i> gets fifty dollars a night,&rdquo;
murmured a little, chubby man when he heard of the recent arrivals, for
there were already many rumors that these people bribed the officer so
that they might not be interfered with by the law. &ldquo;Captain
Tiago,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;is going to come and will be banker in
the monte game. Captain Joaquin brings eighteen thousand. There is
going to be a <i>liam-po</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd0e2286src" href=
"#xd0e2286">1</a> and the Chino Carlos is going to back it with ten
thousand <i>pesos</i> capital. Big bettors will come from Tanauan,
Lipa, and Batangas, as well as from Santa Cruz. It&rsquo;s going to be
great! It&rsquo;s going to be great! This year Captain Tiago will not
skin us as he has in the past, for he has not paid for more than three
masses this year, and besides, I have a <i>mutya</i><a class="noteref"
id="xd0e2294src" href="#xd0e2294">2</a> of cacao. And how are all the
family?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Very well, very well, thank you!&rdquo; replied the visitors
from the country.</p>

<p>But the place where the greatest animation reigns, where there is
almost a tumult, is over there on the level piece of ground, a short
distance from Ibarra&rsquo;s house. Pulleys creak, and the place
resounds with the sound of the hammer, <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb85" href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>the chiseling of stones, hewing of
beams and the shouting of voices. A gang of workmen is making an
excavation which will be wide and deep; others are busy piling up
quarry stone, unloading carts, sifting sand, putting a capstan in place
and so on.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Put that here! That, there! Come, be lively about it!&rdquo;
shouts a little, old man with an animated and intelligent physiognomy
as he goes about, a yard stick and plumb line in hand. He is the
director of the work, &Ntilde;or Juan, architect, mason, carpenter,
whitewasher, locksmith, painter, stone cutter, and, on occasion,
sculptor.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We must finish it immediately! To-morrow nothing can be done,
and day after to-morrow the ceremony of laying the corner stone is to
take place! Come, be lively!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Make the hole just large enough for this cylinder!&rdquo;
said he to one of the stone cutters who was chiseling off a large
quadrangular stone. &ldquo;Inside of this our names will be
kept.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then he would repeat to every countryman who came along what he had
already said a thousand times: &ldquo;Do you know what we are going to
build? Well, it is a school house, a model of its kind, something like
those in Germany, but still better. The architect, Se&ntilde;or R.,
draughted the plans and I, I am in charge of the work. Yes, sir, you
see this is going to be a regular palace with two wings, one for the
boys and one for the girls. Here in the middle is to be a large garden
with three fountains. There, on the sides, groves, where the children
can sow and cultivate plants during the hours of recreation, thus
improving the time. Just see how deep the foundations are to be: three
meters and seventy-five centimeters. The building is going to have a
cellar where the indolent pupils will be confined. This will be very
close to the playing ground and the gymnasium, so that those who are
punished may hear the diligent pupils enjoying themselves. Do you see
this large space? Well, this will be a place for them to run and jump.
The girls will have a separate garden with benches, swings, a special
place for jumping the rope and rolling hoops, fountains and a
bird-house. This is going to be magnificent!&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb86" href="#pb86">86</a>]</span></p>

<p>He kept going from one end to the other, inspecting everything and
passing his opinion on all.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I find that you have got too much lumber here for a
crane,&rdquo; said he to a yellowish-looking fellow, who was directing
some other laborers. &ldquo;I would have enough, with three large
beams, to form the tripod and with three others to serve as
supporters.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;O, pshaw!&rdquo; replied the other, smiling in a peculiar
way. &ldquo;The more apparatus we give ourselves, the greater effect we
will produce. The massiveness of it will make a bigger show and give it
more importance. They will say: &lsquo;What a lot of work has been
done!&rsquo; You look at that crane that I am constructing. In a little
while, I am going to ornament it with <i>banderolas</i>, garlands of
flowers and leaves, and ... you will say afterward that you were right
in hiring me, and Se&ntilde;or Ibarra cannot wish for more than
that!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The man laughed. &Ntilde;or Juan also smiled and shook his head.</p>

<p>As a matter of fact, the plan for the school had been approved by
everybody and all were talking about it. The curate had asked to be
allowed to be one of the patrons of the enterprise and he himself was
to bless the laying of the corner stone, a ceremony which would take
place on the last day of the San Diego festival, as it was considered
one of the great solemnities.</p>

<p>The dismal presentiments of the old Tasio seemed to have been
dissipated forever. One day Ibarra told the old man so, but the old
pessimist only replied: &ldquo;Things may go well at first, but be on
your guard against masked enemies.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb87" href="#pb87">87</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e2286src" id="xd0e2286">1</a></span> A Chinese gambling game.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e2294src" id="xd0e2294">2</a></span> A little white, pearl-like
substance sometimes found in the cacao tree, which is supposed to be a
lucky omen.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch15" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">As Night Comes On.</h2>

<p>Great preparations had also been made in the house of Captain Tiago.
We are already acquainted with the man. His love for pomp and his pride
in being a resident of Manila made it necessary that he should outdo
the residents of the province in the splendor of his celebration. There
was another thing, too, which made it necessary that he should try to
eclipse all others&mdash;the fact that his daughter Maria Clara and his
future son-in-law were also there. His prospective connection with
Ibarra caused the Captain to be often spoken of among the people.</p>

<p>Yes, as a matter of fact, one of the most serious newspapers in
Manila had printed an article on its first page, headed &ldquo;Imitate
Him!&rdquo; in which they offered Ibarra much advice and highly
eulogized him. The article spoke of him as &ldquo;the illustrious and
rich young capitalist.&rdquo; Two lines below, he was termed &ldquo;the
distinguished philanthropist,&rdquo; and, in the following paragraph,
referred to as the &ldquo;disciple of Minerva who went to his Mother
Country to salute the real birthplace of arts and sciences.&rdquo;
Captain Tiago was burning with generous emulation and was wondering
whether he ought not to erect a convent at his own expense.</p>

<p>Days before the week of festivities, numerous boxes of provisions
and drinks, colossal mirrors, pictures, paintings and his
daughter&rsquo;s piano had arrived at the house. Maria Clara and Aunt
Isabel were already living there. Captain Tiago came on the day before
the beginning of the festival. As he kissed his daughter&rsquo;s hand,
he made her a present of a beautiful religious relic. It was solid
gold, and set with diamonds and emeralds, and contained a little sliver
from Saint Peter&rsquo;s boat, in which Our Saviour sat while fishing.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb88" href="#pb88">88</a>]</span></p>

<p>The Captain&rsquo;s interview with his future son-in-law could not
have been more cordial. Naturally, the school house was the subject of
conversation. Captain Tiago wanted him to call the school &ldquo;The
San Francisco School.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Believe me!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;San Francisco is a good
patron saint. If you call it &lsquo;The Primary School,&rsquo; you gain
nothing. Who is Primary, anyway?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Some friends of Maria Clara arrived and invited her to go for a
walk.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But return quickly,&rdquo; said the Captain to his daughter,
who asked for his permission. &ldquo;You know that Father D&aacute;maso
is going to dine with us to-night. He has just arrived.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And turning to Ibarra who was deep in thought, he added: &ldquo;You
will dine with us, too? You will be all alone at home.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;With the greatest pleasure, I assure you, if I did not have
to be at home to-night to receive visitors,&rdquo; replied the young
man, mumbling his words and evading Maria Clara&rsquo;s glance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bring your friends along with you,&rdquo; replied Captain
Tiago cheerfully. &ldquo;In my house there is always enough to eat.
And, besides I would like to have you and Father D&aacute;maso
understand each other.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be time enough for that,&rdquo; replied
Ibarra, putting on a forced smile and making ready to accompany the
young ladies.</p>

<p>They went downstairs. Maria Clara was walking between Victoria and
Iday, while Aunt Isabel followed behind.</p>

<p>As they passed down the street, people stood aside respectfully and
gave them the inside of the way. Maria Clara was surprisingly beautiful
now. Her paleness had disappeared, and although her eyes were
thoughtful, her mouth, on the contrary, seemed all smiles. With that
amiability known only to a happy maiden, she saluted friends she had
known from childhood who to-day were admirers of her youthful beauty.
In less than fifteen days she had regained that frank confidence, that
childish chatter, which seemed for awhile to have been left <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb89" href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>behind in the
narrow walls of the convent. It seemed as though the butterfly upon
leaving its shell knew all the flowers at once. It was enough that she
be given a moment of flight and an opportunity to warm herself in the
golden rays of the sun, in order to throw off the rigidity of the
chrysalis. New life shone out in every part of her young being.
Everything she met with was good and beautiful. Her love was manifested
with virginal grace, and innocent in thought, she saw nothing to cause
her to put on false blushes. However, she was wont to cover her face
with her fan when they joked with her, but her eyes would smile and a
gentle tremor would pass over her whole being.</p>

<p>In front of Captain Basilio&rsquo;s house were some young men who
saluted our acquaintances and invited them into the house. The merry
voice of Sinang was heard, as she descended the stairs on a run and at
once put an end to all excuses.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come up a moment so that I can go out with you,&rdquo; said
she. &ldquo;It bores me to be among so many strangers who talk about
nothing but fighting-cocks and playing cards.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They went upstairs. The house was full of people. Some advanced to
greet Ibarra, whose name was known to all. They contemplated with
ecstacy Maria Clara&rsquo;s beauty, and some of the matrons murmured as
they chewed their betel-nut: &ldquo;She looks like the
Virgin!&rdquo;</p>

<p>After they had partaken of chocolate they resumed their walk. In the
corner of the plaza a beggar was singing the romance of the fishes, to
the accompaniment of a guitar. He was a common sight, a man miserably
dressed and wearing a wide-brimmed hat made out of palm leaves. His
clothing consisted of a frock coat covered with patches, and a pair of
wide trousers such as the Chinese wear, but torn in many places. From
beneath the brim of his hat two fiery orbs flashed out a ray of light.
He was tall and from his manner seemed to be young. He put a basket
down on the ground and, afterwards walking away from it a little
distance, he uttered strange, unintelligible sounds. He remained
standing, completely isolated, as if he and the people in the street
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb90" href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>were
trying to avoid each other. Women approached his basket, and dropped
into it fish, fruit and rice. When there was no one else to approach
the basket, other sadder but less mournful sounds could be heard;
perhaps he was thanking them. He picked up his basket and walked away
to do the same in another place.</p>

<p>Maria Clara felt that this was a pitiful case. Full of interest, she
asked about the strange being.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is a leper,&rdquo; replied Iday. &ldquo;He contracted the
disease some four years ago; some say by taking care of his mother,
others by having been confined in a damp prison. He lives there in the
field near the Chinese cemetery. He does not communicate with any one:
everybody flees from him on account of the fear of contagion. You
should see his fantastic little house! The wind, the rain and the
sunshine go in and out of it as a needle goes through cloth. They have
prohibited him from touching anything belonging to anybody. One day a
little child fell into the canal. The canal was deep, but this man
happened to be passing near and helped to get the little child out. The
child&rsquo;s father learned of it, made a complaint to the <i>
gobernadorcillo</i> and the latter ordered that he be given six stripes
in the middle of the street, the whip to be afterwards burned. That was
atrocious! The leper ran away howling; they pursued him and the <i>
gobernadorcillo</i> cried out: &lsquo;Catch him! One might better be
drowned than have that disease!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; murmured Maria Clara. And then, without
noticing what she was doing, she went up to the basket of the
unfortunate wretch and dropped into it the relic which her father had
just presented to her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What have you done?&rdquo; her friends asked her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have nothing else to give him,&rdquo; she replied,
concealing the tears in her eyes by a smile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what is he going to do with the relic?&rdquo; said
Victoria to her. &ldquo;One day they gave him money but he pushed it
away from him with his cane. Why would he care for it, if no one would
accept anything coming from him? If he could only eat the
relic!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara looked longingly at the women who were selling
provisions and shrugged her shoulders. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb91" href="#pb91">91</a>]</span></p>

<p>But the leper approached the basket, picked up the piece of jewelry
which shone in his hands, knelt down, kissed it, and, after taking off
his hat, buried his face in the dust on which the young girl had
walked.</p>

<p>Maria Clara hid her face behind her fan and raised her handkerchief
to her eyes. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb92" href=
"#pb92">92</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch16" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XVI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Hoisting Crane.</h2>

<p>While two of the actors were singing the <i lang="la">Incarnatus
est</i> in the church at the celebration of mass on the last day of the
<i>fiesta</i>, and all were kneeling and the priests were bowing their
heads, a man whispered in Ibarra&rsquo;s ear: &ldquo;During the
ceremony of the blessing of the corner stone, do not go near the
priest, do not go in the ditch, do not approach the corner stone. Your
life will depend on it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked and saw that it was Elias, the pilot, but, as soon as
he had spoken, he lost himself in the crowd.</p>

<p>The yellow-skinned man kept his word. It was not a simple lifting
crane which he had built over the ditch for the purpose of lowering the
enormous block of granite. It was not the mere tripod which &Ntilde;or
Juan had wanted for holding a tackle-block. It was something more. It
was at the same time a machine and an ornament, grand and imposing.</p>

<p>The confusing and complicated scaffolding had been raised to a
height of more than eight meters. Four heavy timbers buried in the
ground and supporting each other with colossal, diagonal braces, served
as the base. The braces were joined to each other by immense nails,
about half driven into the wood, perhaps because the apparatus was only
of a provisional nature, and it could then be more easily taken down.
Enormous cables were hanging from all sides, giving the entire
apparatus an aspect of solidity and grandeur. The top was gay with
flags and banners of various colors, floating pennants, and massive
garlands of flowers and leaves, all artistically interwoven.</p>

<p>On high, in the shade of the projecting timbers, banners and
wreaths, a large three-wheeled tackle-block was suspended by ropes and
iron hooks. Over the shining <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb93" href=
"#pb93">93</a>]</span>rims of these pulleys great cables passed,
holding suspended in the air a massive stone. The center of this stone
had been chiseled out so that when lowered upon the hollowed stone,
which had already been placed in the ditch, a small enclosure would be
formed between the two. This space was to contain an account of the
ceremonies, newspapers, manuscripts and coins, to be transmitted,
perhaps, to other generations, in the far distant future. From this
tackle-block at the top of the structure, the cable passed down to
another smaller pulley which was fastened at the base of the apparatus.
Through this pulley, the cable passed to the cylinder of a windlass
which was held to the ground by massive beams. This windlass which can
be operated by only two hands, multiplies man&rsquo;s strength by means
of a series of cog-wheels. Although there is a gain in force, there is
of course a loss in velocity.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo; said the yellow-skinned man, as he gave the
crank a turn. &ldquo;Look, &Ntilde;or Juan, with my strength alone, I
can raise and lower that massive block of stone. This is so nicely
arranged that I can control the ascent or descent of the stone by
inches. Thus one man below can arrange the two stones in place, while I
manipulate the apparatus from here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&Ntilde;or Juan could but admire the man as he smiled in such a
peculiar manner. The curious people standing about made comments and
praised the yellow-skinned man for his work.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who taught you the mechanism?&rdquo; asked &Ntilde;or
Juan.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My father, my father who is now dead,&rdquo; he replied, with
that same peculiar smile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And who taught your father?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisostomo.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I did not know that Don Saturnino&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh, he knew a good many things. Not only did he know how to
whip well and how to expose his workmen to the rays of the sun, but he
knew also how to awaken the sleeping and how to make those awake sleep.
In time, you will see what my father has taught me, you will
see!&rdquo;</p>

<p>And the yellow fellow smiled in a strange manner.</p>

<p>At two eating stands, there was now being prepared a sumptuous and
abundant breakfast. However, on the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb94"
href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>table designated for the little ones of the
school, there was no wine, but instead a larger amount of fruit. In a
covered passage which joined the two stands, there were seats for the
musicians and a table covered with sweetmeats, candies and flasks of
water, ornamented with leaves and flowers, for the thirsty public.</p>

<p>The crowd, resplendent in gay-colored clothes, was already fleeing
from the hot rays of the sun and gathering under the shade of the trees
or of the covering. The small boys climbed the trees near the place, in
order to get a better view of the ceremony, and looked with envy upon
the school children, who, clean and well dressed, were occupying a
place designated for them. The fathers of the school children were
enthusiastic. They, poor countrymen that they were, would have the
pleasure of seeing their children eat on a white table cloth, just like
the curate and the <i>Alcalde</i>. Merely to think of it was enough to
drive away their hunger.</p>

<p>Soon strains of music were heard in the distance. A promiscuous
crowd of persons of all ages and dress was preceding the band. The
yellow-looking man was uneasy and was examining the whole apparatus. A
curious countryman was also following his glances and was observing
every movement he made. This countryman was Elias, who had also come to
attend the ceremony. His hat and his style of dress almost concealed
his identity. He had secured the best possible place for himself, right
up close to the crane, on the edge of the excavation.</p>

<p>With the band of music came the <i>Alcalde</i>, the officials of the
town, the friars, with the exception of Father D&aacute;maso, and the
Spanish employees of the Government. Ibarra was conversing with the <i>
Alcalde</i>, for they had become quite friendly from the time the young
man paid him some high compliments on his insignia, decorations and
cordon. Pride in belonging to an aristocratic family was a weakness of
His Excellency. Captain Tiago, the <i>alferez</i> and several wealthy
persons, with their shining silk hats, walked along, surrounded by a
group of youngsters. Father Salv&iacute; followed, the same as ever,
silent and pensive.</p>

<p>The young man could feel his heart beat as they approached <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb95" href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>the designated
place. Instinctively, he glanced at the strange-looking scaffolding
which had been raised there. He saw, too, the yellow-looking man who
saluted him with respect, and, for a moment, Ibarra fixed his eyes on
him. To his surprise, Ibarra also discovered Elias on the edge of the
excavation. He gave the young pilot a significant look, letting him
understand that he remembered what he had said in the church.</p>

<p>The curate put on his sacerdotal vestments and began the ceremony.
The one-eyed sacristan mayor held the book and a choir boy was charged
with the water-sprinkler and the vessel of blessed water. The others
who stood around about, their heads uncovered, maintained a deep
silence. In spite of the fact that Father Salv&iacute; read in a low
tone, it could be noticed that his voice trembled.</p>

<p>In the meantime the articles, such as manuscripts, newspapers,
medals and coins, which were to be placed in the corner stone had been
enclosed in a little glass box, and hermetically sealed in a leaden
cylinder.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra, do you wish to put the box in its place?
The curate awaits it,&rdquo; said the <i>Alcalde</i> to Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I would do so with much pleasure,&rdquo; replied he,
&ldquo;but I would be usurping the honorable duty of the Se&ntilde;or
Notary. The Notary ought to attest the act.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Notary took it seriously, descended the carpeted stairs to the
bottom of the excavation and, with fitting solemnity, deposited the box
in the hollow which had been made in the stone. The curate then took up
the sprinkler and sprinkled the stones with holy water.</p>

<p>The time had now come for each one to put his trowelful of mortar on
the surface of the stone, which lay in the ditch, so that the other
stone might fit upon it and be made to adhere to it.</p>

<p>Ibarra presented the <i>Alcalde</i> with a trowel, upon whose wide
silver blade was engraved the date. But His Excellency first delivered
an address in Spanish.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Citizens of San Diego,&rdquo; he said in a solemn tone.
&ldquo;I have the honor to preside at a ceremony the importance of
which you already understand. A school is being founded. The school is
the base of society. The school is the book in which is written the
future of the people. Show me <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb96" href=
"#pb96">96</a>]</span>the schools of a people and I will tell you what
those people are.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Citizens of San Diego! Thank God that he has given you
virtuous priests; and the Mother Country that she untiringly diffuses
her civilization over these fertile islands, protected by her glorious
flag. Thank God that she has had pity for you, bringing you these
humble priests that they may enlighten you and teach you the divine
word. Thank the Government for the great sacrifices it has made, makes
now and will make in the future for you and your sons.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And now that the first stone of this great edifice has been
blessed, I, <i>Alcalde Mayor</i> of this province, in the name of His
Majesty, the King, whom God guard, King of the Spains, in the name of
the illustrious Spanish Government, and under its spotless and ever
victorious banner, I consecrate this act and begin the building of this
school.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Citizens of San Diego! Long live the King! Long live Spain!
Long live the Church! Long live the priests! Long live the Catholic
religion!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Viva! Viva!</i>&rdquo; replied the others. &ldquo;Long
live the <i>Alcalde</i>!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>Alcalde</i> majestically descended to the accompaniment of
the music which had begun to play. He placed some trowels of mortar on
the stone and with equal majesty ascended the stairs.</p>

<p>The Government employees applauded.</p>

<p>Ibarra offered another silver trowel to the curate, who, after
fixing his eyes on him for a moment, descended slowly to the bottom of
the excavation. When about half way down the stairs, he raised his eyes
to look at the stone which hung suspended in the air by the powerful
cables, but he only looked at it for a second and then descended. He
did the same as the <i>Alcalde</i> had done, but this time more
applause was heard, for the Government employees were assisted by the
other friars and Captain Tiago.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; seemed to be searching for some one to whom to
hand the trowel. He looked with hesitation toward Maria Clara, but,
changing his mind, he offered <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb97" href=
"#pb97">97</a>]</span>it to the Notary. The latter, for the sake of
gallantry, approached Maria Clara, who declined it with a smile. The
friars, the Government employees and the <i>alferez</i>, one after
another went down and repeated the ceremony. Captain Tiago was not
forgotten.</p>

<p>Ibarra had been omitted. He was about to order the yellow man to
lower the other stone, when the curate remembered him. In a pleasant
tone and, with an affectation of familiarity, he said to him.
&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you going to put on your trowelful, Se&ntilde;or
Ibarra?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I would be like the fellow who made the stew and then ate
it,&rdquo; replied the young man in the same tone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;O, go on!&rdquo; said the <i>Alcalde</i>, giving him a gentle
push. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t, I will order them not to lower the
stone and then we will have to wait here till Judgment Day.&rdquo;</p>

<p>So terrible a threat forced Ibarra to obey. He exchanged the small
silver trowel for a larger iron one, which made some of the people
smile. He advanced quietly and descended the stairs. Elias looked at
him with an indescribable expression. If you had seen him, you would
have thought that all his life was concentrated in his eyes. The yellow
man looked down into the abyss opening at his feet.</p>

<p>Ibarra, after glancing at the stone which hung over his head, and
then at Elias and the yellow man, said to &Ntilde;or Juan in a
trembling voice: &ldquo;Give me the bucket of mortar and find another
trowel for me above.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man stood alone. Elias was no longer looking at him; his
eyes instead were riveted on the yellow man&rsquo;s hand, while the
latter leaned over the ditch and followed with anxiety the movements of
Ibarra.</p>

<p>The noise of the trowel removing a mass of sand and lime was heard,
accompanied by the low murmur of the employees who were congratulating
the <i>Alcalde</i> on his address.</p>

<p>Suddenly there was a frightful creaking. The pulley which was tied
to the base of the crane jumped and then the windlass struck the
apparatus like a battering-ram. The timbers swayed, ropes flew into the
air and, in a second, all came down with a terrible crash. A cloud of
dust was raised, and a thousand cries filled the air. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb98" href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>Nearly all fled; a
few hurried to the ditch. Only Maria Clara and Father Salv&iacute;
remained in their places without moving, both pale and silent.</p>

<p>When the cloud of dust had partially cleared away, Ibarra could be
seen standing among a mass of beams, bamboos, and cables, between the
windlass and the massive stone, which in its descent had shaken and
crushed everything. The young man was still holding the trowel in his
hand, his eyes staring with fright at the dead body of a man which was
lying at his feet, half buried under the timbers.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you hurt?&mdash;Are you still alive? For God&rsquo;s sake
speak!&rdquo; said some of the employees, full of terror.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Miracle! a miracle!&rdquo; cried some.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come and remove the body of this unfortunate man,&rdquo; said
Ibarra, as if awakening from a dream.</p>

<p>On hearing his voice, Maria Clara felt her strength giving way and
she fell, half fainting, into the arms of her friends.</p>

<p>Great confusion reigned. Everybody was talking, gesticulating, and
running from one side to the other, up and down the stairs, all
stupefied and full of consternation.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who is the dead man? Is he still alive?&rdquo; asked the <i>
alferez</i>.</p>

<p>The body was identified as the yellow workman who had been standing
beside the windlass.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let proceedings be brought against the superintendent of the
work,&rdquo; was the first thing that the <i>Alcalde</i> said.</p>

<p>They examined the body, felt of the heart, but it was no longer
beating. The blow had fallen on the head and blood was oozing from the
nose, ears and mouth. Some strange marks were seen on the man&rsquo;s
neck. There were four deep dents on one side and a single but deeper
one on the other. It looked as though an iron hand had grasped it like
a pair of pinchers.</p>

<p>The priests warmly congratulated the young man and shook his
hand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;When I think that only a few moments ago I was standing
there,&rdquo; said one of the employees. &ldquo;Say! If I had been the
last! <i>Jes&uacute;s!</i>&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb99"
href="#pb99">99</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;It makes my hair stand on end,&rdquo; said another, who was
bald.</p>

<p>Ibarra had departed, to ascertain the condition of Maria Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let this not prevent the festival from continuing,&rdquo;
said the <i>Alcalde</i>. &ldquo;God be praised! The dead man is neither
a priest nor a Spaniard! Your escape must be celebrated! Just
think&mdash;if the stone had fallen on you!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;There is such a thing as a presentiment!&rdquo; said the
Notary. &ldquo;I said so. Se&ntilde;or Ibarra was reluctant to descend.
I saw it!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let the festival go on! Give us some music! Weeping will not
bring the dead man to life. Captain, serve warrants right here! Let the
clerk of the tribunal come. Arrest the superintendent of the
work!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Put him in the stocks!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Put him in the stocks! Eh? Some music, music! Put the <i>
maestrillo</i> in the stocks.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Alcalde,&rdquo; replied Ibarra gravely,
&ldquo;if weeping cannot bring the dead man back to life, neither can
anything be gained by putting a man in prison when we do not know that
he is culpable. I will give bail for him and ask that he be given
liberty for some days at least.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, well! But such a misfortune must not be
repeated!&rdquo;</p>

<p>All kinds of comments were circulating among the people. The theory
that it was a miracle was already accepted. Father Salv&iacute;,
however, seemed to rejoice very little over the miracle, which the
people attributed to a saint of his order and of his parish.</p>

<p>There were some who claimed to have seen, as the crane was falling,
a figure dressed in black like the Franciscans, go down in the ditch.
It was without doubt San Diego himself. It was supposed, too, that
Ibarra had heard mass and that the yellow man had not. It was all as
clear as the light of the sun.</p>

<p>Ibarra went home to change his clothes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Hm! Bad beginning,&rdquo; said Old Tasio as he left the
place.</p>

<p>Ibarra had just finished dressing when a servant announced that a
countryman was asking for him. Supposing <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb100" href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>that it was one of his laborers,
the young man ordered that they show him into his study, which also
served as a library and a chemical laboratory. But, to his great
surprise, he met the muscular figure of the mysterious Elias.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You recently saved my life,&rdquo; said he in <span class=
"corr" id="xd0e2621" title="Source: Tagalo">Tagalog</span>, at once
comprehending Ibarra&rsquo;s movement. &ldquo;I have paid you only half
of the debt, and you are not indebted to me; rather the contrary. I
have come to ask a favor of you....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Speak out!&rdquo; replied the young man, in the same language
and somewhat surprised at the gravity of the peasant.</p>

<p>For some seconds, Elias looked fixedly into Ibarra&rsquo;s eyes and
then replied: &ldquo;If human justice should ever wish to clear up this
mystery, I beg of you not to speak to any one about the warning that I
gave you in the church.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be troubled about that,&rdquo; replied the young
man with a certain note of displeasure in his voice. &ldquo;I know that
they are hunting you, but I am no informer.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is not for my sake, it is not for me!&rdquo; exclaimed
Elias, not without some pride. &ldquo;It is for your sake. I have
nothing to fear from men.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra&rsquo;s surprise increased. The tone in which the countryman
was speaking was new to him and did not seem to be in accord either
with his state or his fortune.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked Ibarra, interrogating the
mysterious man with his look.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not speak in enigmas; I try to express myself clearly.
For your greater security, it is necessary that your enemies think you
unsuspecting and off your guard.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra stepped back.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My enemies? Have I enemies?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All of us have, sir, all from the lowest insect to man, from
the poorest to the richest and most powerful. Enmity is the law of
life. You have enemies in the highest and in the lowest ranks. You are
planning a great undertaking; you have a past; your father, your
grandfather had enemies because they had passion. In life it is not
criminals who provoke the most hatred, but rather honorable
men.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know my enemies?&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb101" href="#pb101">101</a>]</span></p>

<p>Elias did not reply at once, but meditated.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I knew one, the one who has died,&rdquo; he replied.
&ldquo;Last night I discovered that something was being plotted against
you, through some words that were exchanged between him and an unknown
man who lost himself in the crowd. &lsquo;The fish will not eat this
one as they did his father; you will see to-morrow,&rsquo; said he.
These words attracted my attention, not only on account of their
meaning but because they were spoken by this man, who only a few days
ago had presented himself to the superintendent of the work with the
express desire that he be given charge of the work of placing the
corner stone. He did not ask for a large wage, but made a great show of
his knowledge. I had no sufficient reasons to attribute evil designs to
him, but something told me that my suspicions were right. For this
reason, in order to warn you, I chose a moment and an occasion when you
could not ask me any questions. You already know the rest.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias was then silent for some moments; yet Ibarra did not reply nor
utter a word. He was meditating.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am sorry that the man is dead,&rdquo; he replied at last.
&ldquo;We might have been able to learn something more about it from
him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If he had lived he would have escaped from the trembling hand
of blind, human justice. God has now judged him! God has killed him!
Let God be the only judge!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Crisostomo looked a moment at the man who was speaking to him in
this manner. He noticed that his muscular arms were covered with
bruises and black and blue spots.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you also believe in the miracle version of the
affair?&rdquo; he said, smiling&mdash;&ldquo;this miracle of which the
people speak?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I believed in miracles, I would not believe in God. I
would believe in a deified man. In fact, I would believe that man had
created God after his image and likeness,&rdquo; he replied solemnly.
&ldquo;But I believe in Him. More than once I have felt His hand. When
all was falling headlong, threatening destruction for everything which
was in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb102" href=
"#pb102">102</a>]</span>place, I Held the criminal. I put myself by his
side. He was struck and I am safe and sound.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You? So that you...?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes! I held him when he wanted to escape, once he had begun
his fatal work. I saw his crime. I say: &lsquo;Let God be the only
judge among men. Let Him be the only one who has the right to take away
life. Let man never think of substituting himself for him!<span class=
"corr" id="xd0e2669" title="Not in source">&rsquo;</span>&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And, still you this time....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; interrupted Elias, foreseeing the objection that
he was going to raise. &ldquo;It is not the same thing. When a man as
judge condemns another to death or destroys his future forever, he does
it with impunity and makes use of the force of other men to carry out
his sentence. Yet, after all, the sentence may be wrong and unjust. But
I, in exposing the criminal to the same danger which he had prepared
for others, ran the same risks. I did not kill him. I allowed the hand
of God to kill him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you not believe in chance?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To believe in chance is like believing in miracles. Both
theories suppose that God does not know the future. What is a casualty?
A happening which absolutely nobody knows beforehand. What is a
miracle? A contradiction, a contortion of the laws of nature. Lack of
foresight and contradiction in the All Knowing, who directs the
machinery of the world, are two great imperfections.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; Ibarra asked again, with a certain dread.
&ldquo;Have you studied?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have had to believe in God a great deal because I have lost
my faith in men,&rdquo; replied the pilot, evading the question.</p>

<p>Ibarra thought that he understood this man; young and proscribed, he
disregarded human justice; denied the right of man to judge his equals,
he protested against power and superiority of certain classes of men
over others.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But you must admit the necessity of human justice, however
imperfect it may be,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;God, although he has
ministers on the earth, cannot, that is to say, cannot clearly give his
judgment upon the millions of contentions which are stirred up by our
passions. It <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb103" href=
"#pb103">103</a>]</span>is necessary, it is just, that a man should
sometimes judge his fellows.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;For good, yes; for bad, no. To correct and improve, yes; but
not to destroy, for if he fails in his judgment, there is no power that
can remedy the evil that has been done. But,&rdquo; he added, changing
his tone, &ldquo;this discussion is beyond and above me, and I am
keeping you from those who are now awaiting you. But do not forget what
I have just said: You have enemies. Take care of yourself for the good
of your country!&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb104" href=
"#pb104">104</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch17" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XVII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Banquet.</h2>

<p>There, under the shade of the decorated pavilion, the great men of
the province were banqueting. The <i>Alcalde</i> occupied one end of
the table; Ibarra, the other. On the young man&rsquo;s right sat Maria
Clara, and on his left, the Notary. Captain Tiago, the <i>alferez</i>,
the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, the friars, the employees, and the few
se&ntilde;oritas who were present were seated, not according to rank
but according to their own fancy.</p>

<p>The banquet was very animated, but, before it was half over, a
messenger with a telegram came in search of Captain Tiago. The Captain
asked permission to read the message, and naturally all begged of him
to do so.</p>

<p>The worthy Captain at first knit his eyebrows; and then raised them.
His face became pale, and then brightened up. Doubling up the sheet of
paper hurriedly, he arose.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said he, confused, &ldquo;His Excellency,
the Governor General, is coming this afternoon to honor my
house.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And then he started on a run, taking with him the telegram and the
napkin, but not his hat. All sorts of questions and exclamations were
shouted after him. The announcement of the coming of the <i>
tulisanes</i> could not have had a greater effect. &ldquo;But listen!
When does he come? Tell us about it! His Excellency!&rdquo; But Captain
Tiago was already far away.</p>

<p>&ldquo;His Excellency is coming and will be a guest at Captain
Tiago&rsquo;s house!&rdquo; exclaimed some one, without considering
that the Captain&rsquo;s daughter and future son-in-law were
present.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The choice could not have been a better one,&rdquo; replied
another.</p>

<p>The friars looked at each other. Their expressions <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb105" href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>seemed to say:
&ldquo;The Governor General is committing another of his errors,
offending us in this way. He ought to be the guest of the
convent.&rdquo; But despite the fact that they thought this, they all
kept silent and no one of them expressed his opinion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Even yesterday he was speaking to me about it,&rdquo; said
the <i>Alcalde</i>, &ldquo;but, at that time, His Excellency was not
decided.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know, Your Excellency, Se&ntilde;or Alcalde, how long
the Governor General intends to remain here?&rdquo; asked the <i>
alferez</i>, a little uneasy.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, not positively. His Excellency likes
surprises.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Here come some other telegrams!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The messages were for the <i>Alcalde</i>, the <i>alferez</i>, and
the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, and announced the same thing to each of
them. The friars noticed that none came addressed to the curate.</p>

<p>&ldquo;His Excellency will arrive at four o&rsquo;clock this
afternoon, gentlemen,&rdquo; said the <i>Alcalde</i> solemnly.
&ldquo;We can finish at our leisure.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Leonidas, in the pass of Thermopyl&aelig;, could not have said with
better grace &ldquo;To-night we will dine with Pluto.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I notice the absence of our great preacher,&rdquo; said one
of the government employees timidly. The speaker had an inoffensive
look and before this had not opened his mouth, except to eat, during
the entire morning.</p>

<p>All who knew the life of Crisostomo&rsquo;s father twitched their
eyes significantly and seemed to say by their movements: &ldquo;Go on!
It&rsquo;s a bad beginning that you have made!&rdquo; But others, more
benevolently disposed, replied: &ldquo;He must be somewhat
fatigued.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What? Somewhat fatigued!&rdquo; exclaimed the <i>alferez</i>.
&ldquo;Why, he must be exhausted. What did you think of the sermon this
morning?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Superb, gigantic!&rdquo; said the Notary.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To be able to speak like Father D&aacute;maso, a man needs
lungs,&rdquo; observed Father Manuel Martin.</p>

<p>The Augustine did not concede more than lung power.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And such easiness of expression,&rdquo; added Father
Salv&iacute;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know that Se&ntilde;or Ibarra has the best cook in the
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb106" href=
"#pb106">106</a>]</span>province,&rdquo; remarked the <i>Alcalde</i>,
cutting off the conversation.</p>

<p>&ldquo;So they say,&rdquo; replied one of the Government employees,
&ldquo;but his fair neighbor does not wish to do honor to his table,
for she scarcely takes a mouthful.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara blushed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I thank you, Senor.... You occupy yourself too much about me
... but ...&rdquo; she said timidly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But your presence honors him sufficiently,&rdquo; concluded
the gallant <i>Alcalde</i>. Then turning to Father Salv&iacute;:
&ldquo;Father Curate, I notice that you have been silent and pensive
all day long.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is my nature,&rdquo; muttered the Franciscan. &ldquo;I
would rather listen than talk.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Reverence seeks always to gain and never to lose,&rdquo;
replied the <i>alferez</i>, in a joking manner.</p>

<p>But Father Salv&iacute; did not take it as a joke. His eyes flashed
a moment and he replied: &ldquo;You know very well, Se&ntilde;or
Alferez, that, during these days, I am not the one who gains
most!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> overlooked the fling with a false laugh and
pretended not to hear it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, gentlemen, I do not understand how you can be talking
about gains and losses,&rdquo; intervened the <i>Alcalde</i>.
&ldquo;What will these amiable and discreet young women, who honor us
with their presence, think of us? To my mind, the young women are like
&AElig;olian harps in the night. It is only necessary to lend an
attentive ear to hear them, for their unspeakable harmonies elevate the
soul to the celestial spheres of the infinite and of the
ideal....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Excellency is a poet,&rdquo; said the Notary gayly; and
both drained their wine glasses.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I cannot help it,&rdquo; said the <i>Alcalde</i>, wiping his
lips. &ldquo;The occasion, if it does not always make the thief, makes
the poet. In my youth I composed verses, and they certainly were not
bad ones.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;So Your Excellency has been unfaithful to the Muses,
deserting them for Themis.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Psh!&rdquo; What would you do? It has always been my dream to
run through the whole social scale. Yesterday I was gathering flowers,
and singing songs; to-day I hold <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb107"
href="#pb107">107</a>]</span>the wand of Justice and serve Humanity.
To-morrow....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To-morrow Your Excellency will throw the wand into the fire
to warm yourself with it in the winter of life, and will then take a
portfolio in the Ministry,&rdquo; added Father Sibyla.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Psh! Yes ... no.... To be a Minister is not precisely my
ideal. The unexpected always happens, though. A little villa in the
north of Spain to pass the summer in, a mansion in Madrid, and some
possessions in Andalusia for the winter.... We will live remembering
our dear Philippines.... Of me Voltaire will not say: &lsquo;<i lang=
"fr">Nous n&rsquo;avons jamais &eacute;t&eacute; chez ces peuples que
pour nous y enrichir et pour les calomnier.</i>&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Government employees thought that His Excellency intended a joke
and they began to laugh to make a show of appreciating it. The friars
imitated them since they did not know that Voltaire was the
Volta-i-r&eacute; whom they had so often cursed and condemned to Hades.
Father Sibyla, however, recognized the name and assumed a serious air,
supposing that the <i>Alcalde</i> had uttered some heresy.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso was waddling down the road. He was half
smiling, but in such a malignant manner, that on seeing him, Ibarra,
who was in the act of speaking, lost the thread of his remarks. All
were surprised to see Father D&aacute;maso, but, excepting Ibarra, they
greeted him with marks of pleasure. They had already reached the last
course of the dinner, and the champagne was foaming in the glasses.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso showed a little nervousness in his smile when
he saw Maria Clara seated on the right of Crisostomo. But, taking a
chair by the side of the <i>Alcalde</i>, he asked in the midst of a
significant silence: &ldquo;Were you not talking about something,
se&ntilde;ores? Continue!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;We were drinking a toast,&rdquo; replied the <i>Alcalde</i>.
&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra was mentioning those who had aided him in
his philanthropic enterprise and was speaking of the architect when
Your Reverence....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t understand architecture,&rdquo;
interrupted Father D&aacute;maso, &ldquo;but architects and the dunces
who go to them make me laugh! You have an example right here. I drew
the plan for a church and it has been constructed <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb108" href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>perfectly: so an
English jeweler who was one day a guest at the convent told me. To
draught a plan, one need have but a small degree of
intelligence.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;However,&rdquo; replied the <i>Alcalde</i>, seeing that
Ibarra was silent, &ldquo;when we are dealing with certain edifices,
for example a school, we need a skilled man (<i>perito</i>).&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He who needs a <i>perito</i> is a <i>perrito</i> (little
dog)!&rdquo; exclaimed Father D&aacute;maso, with a scoff. &ldquo;One
would have to be more of a brute than the natives, who erect their own
houses, if he did not know how to build four walls and put a covering
over them. That&rsquo;s all that a school house is.&rdquo;</p>

<p>All looked toward Ibarra. But the young man, even if he did look
pale, kept on conversing with Maria Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But Your Reverence should consider....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Just look you,&rdquo; continued the Franciscan without
allowing the <i>Alcalde</i> to speak. &ldquo;See how one of our lay
brothers, the most stupid one we have, has built a good hospital,
handsome and cheap. It is well built and he did not pay more than eight
<i>cuartos</i> a day to those whom he employed even those who came from
other towns. That fellow knows how to treat them. He does not do like
many fools and <i>mesticillos</i><a class="noteref" id="xd0e2885src"
href="#xd0e2885">1</a> who spoil them by paying them three or four <i>
reales</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Does Your Reverence say that he only paid eight <i>
cuartos</i>? Impossible!&rdquo; said the <i>Alcalde</i>, trying to
change the course of the conversation.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, Se&ntilde;or; and those who brag of being good Spaniards
ought to imitate him. You can see very well now, since the Suez Canal
was opened, corruption has come here. Before, when we had to double the
Cape, there were not so many worthless people coming out here, nor did
Filipinos go abroad to be corrupted and spoiled.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, Father D&aacute;maso!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You know very well what the native is. As quickly as he
learns anything, he goes and becomes a doctor. All these ignoramuses
who go to Europe....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But listen, Your Reverence ...&rdquo; interrupted the <i>
Alcalde</i>, becoming uneasy at such harsh words.</p>

<p>&ldquo;They are all going to end as they merit,&rdquo; he continued.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb109" href=
"#pb109">109</a>]</span>&ldquo;The hand of God is upon them and one
must be blind not to see it. Even in this life, the fathers of such
vipers receive their punishment.... They die in prison, eh?&rdquo;</p>

<p>But he did not finish his remarks. Ibarra, his face flushing, had
been following him with his eyes. On hearing the allusion to his
father, he rose and, with a single bound, brought down his strong hand
on the head of the priest. Stunned with the blow, the friar fell on his
back.</p>

<p>Full of astonishment and terror, no one dared to intervene.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Keep back!&rdquo; cried the young man, with a menacing voice,
and brandishing a sharp knife in his hand. In the meantime, he held the
friar down with his foot on his neck. The latter was recovering
consciousness. &ldquo;Let no one approach who does not want to
die!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra was beside himself. His body trembled, and his threatening
eyes almost burst from their sockets. Friar D&aacute;maso struggled and
raised himself, but the young man, seizing him by the collar, shook him
till he fell on his knees and collapsed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra! Se&ntilde;or Ibarra!&rdquo; cried
some.</p>

<p>But nobody, not even the <i>alferez</i>, dared to approach the
glistening blade, considering the strength of the young man and the
state of his mind. All were paralyzed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;All of you people here have said nothing! Now the matter
concerns me! I have avoided him. God now brings him to me. Let God
judge!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man was breathing hard. With iron hand he held the
Franciscan down, and the latter struggled in vain to break loose.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My heart beats tranquilly. My hand is sure.&rdquo;</p>

<p>He looked about him and continued: &ldquo;Is there among you any one
who does not love his father; any one who hates his memory, any one who
was born in disgrace and humiliation? See! Do you observe this silence?
Priest of a peaceful God, with your mouth full of sanctity and
religion, and a miserable heart, you could not have known what a father
is. You should have thought of your own! <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb110" href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>Do you see? Among this crowd which
you scorn, there is none such as you! You are judged!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The people around him made a stir, believing that he was going to
strike.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Back!&rdquo; he again cried in a threatening voice.
&ldquo;What? Do you fear that I would soil my hand with his impure
blood? Have I not told you that my heart beats tranquilly? Back from
us, all! Listen, priests, judges, you who think yourselves different
from other men, and who claim other rights for yourselves! Listen! My
father was an honorable man. Ask these people who venerate his memory.
My father was a good citizen. He sacrificed himself for me and for the
good of his country! His house was open. His table was ready for the
stranger or the exile who came to it in his misery. He was a good
Christian; he always did what was right. He never oppressed the
helpless, nor brought sorrow to the miserable and wretched. To this
man, he opened the door of his house. He had him sit at his table and
he called him his friend. What has he done in return? He has
calumniated him, persecuted him, has armed ignorance against him,
violating the sanctity of his office, has thrown him out of his tomb,
dishonored his memory, and persecuted him even in death&rsquo;s repose.
And not content with that, he now persecutes his son. I have fled from
him, I have avoided his presence. You heard him this morning profane
the pulpit; you saw him point me out to the popular fanaticism; I said
nothing. Now he comes here in search of a quarrel. To your surprise, I
suffered in silence; but he again insults the sacred memory of my
father, that memory which every son holds dear.... You who are here,
you priests, you judges, have you seen your father watching over you
night and day and working for you? Have you seen him deprive himself of
you for your good? Have you seen your father die in prison, heart
broken, sighing for some one to caress him, searching for some being to
console him, alone in sickness, while you were in a foreign land? Have
you heard his name dishonored afterward? Have you found his tomb vacant
when you wished to pray upon it? No? You are silent. Then by that
silence you condemn him!&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb111"
href="#pb111">111</a>]</span></p>

<p>He raised his arm; but a young maiden, quick as a flash, put herself
between them and with her delicate hands stopped the arm of the
avenger. It was Maria Clara.</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at her with an expression that seemed to reflect
madness. Gradually, he loosened the vise-like fingers of his hand,
allowed the body of the Franciscan to fall, and dropped his knife upon
the ground. Covering his face, he fled through the crowd. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb112" href="#pb112">112</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e2885src" id="xd0e2885">1</a></span> Little <i>mestizos</i> or
half breeds. Used in contempt.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch18" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XVIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The First Cloud.</h2>

<p>The house of Captain Tiago was no less disturbed than the
imagination of the people. Maria Clara, refusing to listen to the
consolation of her aunt and foster sister, did nothing but weep. Her
father had forbidden her to speak to Ibarra until the priests should
absolve him from the excommunication which they had pronounced upon
him.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago, though very busy preparing his house for the
reception of the Governor General, had been summoned to the
convent.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry, my girl,&rdquo; said Aunt Isabel as she
dusted off the mirrors. &ldquo;They will certainly annul the
excommunication; they will write the Pope.... We will make a large
donation.... Father D&aacute;maso had nothing more than a fainting
spell.... He is not dead.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry,&rdquo; said Andeng to her, in a low voice.
&ldquo;I will certainly arrange it so that you can speak to him. What
are the confessionals made for, if we are not expected to sin?
Everything is pardoned when one has told it to the curate.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Finally, Captain Tiago arrived. They scanned his face for an answer
to their many questions, but his expression announced too plainly his
dismay. The poor man was sweating, and passing his hand over his
forehead. He seemed unable to utter a word.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How is it, Santiago?&rdquo; asked Aunt Isabel, anxiously.</p>

<p>He answered her with a sigh and dried away a tear.</p>

<p>&ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, speak! What has happened?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What I had already feared!&rdquo; he broke out finally half
crying. &ldquo;All is lost! Father D&aacute;maso orders that the
engagement be broken. If it is not broken off, I am condemned in this
life and in the next. They all tell me the same thing, even Father
Sibyla! I ought to shut the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb113" href=
"#pb113">113</a>]</span>doors of my house and ... I owe him more than
fifty thousand <i>pesos</i>. I told the Fathers so, but they would take
no notice of it. &lsquo;Which do you prefer to lose,&rsquo; they said
to me, &lsquo;fifty thousand <i>pesos</i>, or your life and your
soul?&rsquo; Alas! <i>Ay! San Antonio!</i> If I had known it, if I had
known it!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara was sobbing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not cry, my daughter,&rdquo; he added, turning to her.
&ldquo;You are not like your mother. She never cried ... she never
cried except when she was whimsical just before your birth.... Father
D&aacute;maso tells me that a relative of his has just arrived from
Spain ... and that he wants him to be your fianc&eacute;.&rdquo;...</p>

<p>Maria Clara stopped up her ears.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, Santiago, are you out of your head?&rdquo; cried Aunt
Isabel. &ldquo;Speak to her now of another fianc&eacute;! Do you think
that your daughter can change lovers as easily as she changes her
dress?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I was thinking the same thing, Isabel. Don Crisostomo is
rich.... The Spaniards only marry for love of money.... But what would
you have me do? They have threatened me with excommunication. They say
that I am in great peril: not only my soul, but also my body ... my
body, do you hear? My body!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But you only give sorrow to your daughter. Are you not a
friend of the Archbishop? Why don&rsquo;t you write him?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Archbishop is also a friar. The Archbishop does only what
the friars say. But, Maria, do not cry. The Governor General will come.
He will want to see you and your eyes are all inflamed.... Alas! I was
thinking what a happy afternoon I was going to pass.... Without this
misfortune, I would be the happiest of men and all would envy me....
Calm yourself, my girl. I am more unfortunate than you and I do not
cry. You can have another and better fianc&eacute;, but I lose fifty
thousand <i>pesos</i>. Ah! Virgin of Antipolo! If I could only have
some luck to-night!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Noises, detonations, the rumbling of carriages, the galloping of
horses, and a band playing the <i>Marcha Real</i> announced the arrival
of His Excellency, the Governor <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb114"
href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>General of the Philippine Islands. Maria
Clara ran to hide in her bedroom.... Poor girl! Gross hands were
playing with her heart, ignorant of the delicacy of its fibers.</p>

<p>In the meantime, the house filled with people. Loud steps, commands,
and the clanking of sabers and swords resounded on all sides. The
afflicted maiden was half kneeling before an engraving of the Virgin, a
picture representing her in that attitude of painful solitude, known
only to Delaroche, as if she had been surprised on returning from the
sepulchre of her Son. But Maria Clara was not thinking of the grief of
that Mother; she was thinking of her own. With her head resting on her
breast and her hands on the floor, she looked like a lily bent by the
storm. A future, cherished for years in her dreams; a future whose
illusions, born in her infancy and nursed through her youth, gave form
to the cells of her being&mdash;that future was now to be blotted from
the mind and heart by a single word!</p>

<p>Maria Clara was as good and as pious a Christian as her aunt. The
thought of an excommunication terrified her. The threat to destroy the
peace of her father demanded that she sacrifice her love. She felt the
entire strength of that affection which until now she had not known. It
was like a river which glides along smoothly; its banks carpeted with
fragrant flowers, its bed formed by fine sand, the wind scarcely
rippling its surface, so quiet and peaceful that you would say that its
waters were dead; until suddenly its channel is pent up, ragged rocks
obstruct its course, and the entangled trunks of trees form a dike.
Then the river roars; it rises up; its waves boil; it is lashed into
foam, beats against the rocks and rushes into the abyss.</p>

<p>She wanted to pray, but who can pray without hope? One prays when
there is hope. When there is none, we surrender ourselves to God and
wail. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried her heart, &ldquo;why shouldst thou
separate me thus from him I love? Why deny me the love of others? Thou
dost not deny me the sun, nor the air, nor dost thou hide the heavens
from my sight. Why dost thou deny me love, when it is possible to live
without sun, without air, and without the heavens, but without love,
never?&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb115" href=
"#pb115">115</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Mother, mother,&rdquo; she was moaning.</p>

<p>Aunt Isabel came to take her from her grief. Some of her girl
friends had arrived and the Governor General also desired to talk with
her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Aunt, tell them that I am ill!&rdquo; begged the frightened
maiden. &ldquo;They wish to make me play the piano and sing.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your father has promised it. You are not going to go back on
your father?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara arose, looked at her aunt, clasped her beautiful arms
about her and murmured: &ldquo;Oh, if I had ...&rdquo;</p>

<p>But, without finishing the sentence, she dried her tears and began
to make her toilet. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb116" href=
"#pb116">116</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch19" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XIX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">His Excellency.</h2>

<p>&ldquo;I want to speak with that young man,&rdquo; said His
Excellency to an adjutant. &ldquo;He has awakened my
interest.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;They have already gone to look for him, General! But there is
a young man here from Manila who insists on being introduced. We have
told him that Your Excellency has no time and that you have not come to
give audiences, but to see the town and the procession. But he has
replied that Your Excellency always has time to dispense
justice.&rdquo;</p>

<p>His Excellency turned to the <i>Alcalde</i> as if in doubt.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I am not mistaken,&rdquo; said the latter, making a slight
bow, &ldquo;it is a young man who this morning had a difficulty with
Father D&aacute;maso about the sermon.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Still another? Has this friar undertaken to disturb the
province, or does he think that he is in command here? Tell the young
man to come in!&rdquo;</p>

<p>His Excellency was walking nervously from one end of the <i>sala</i>
to the other.</p>

<p>In the lower part of the house, in the ante-room, were several
Spaniards, mingled with army officers and officials of the town of San
Diego and some of the neighboring villages. They were grouped in little
circles and were conversing about one thing and another. All of the
friars were there except Father D&aacute;maso, and they wanted to go in
and pay their respects to His Excellency.</p>

<p>&ldquo;His Excellency, the Governor General, begs Your Reverences to
wait a moment,&rdquo; said the adjutant. &ldquo;Walk in, young
man!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man from Manila entered the <i>sala</i>, pale and
trembling.</p>

<p>Everybody was surprised. His Excellency must be irritated to dare to
make the friars wait. Father Sibyla <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb117" href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>said: &ldquo;I have nothing to say
to him.... I am losing time here!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the same with me,&rdquo; said an Augustine.
&ldquo;Shall we go?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Would it not be better for us to find out what he
thinks?&rdquo; asked Father Salv&iacute;. &ldquo;We would avoid a
scandal ... and ... we would be able to call to his mind his duty to
... the Church.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Reverences can walk in, if you wish,&rdquo; announced
the adjutant, as he escorted out the young man, whose face was now,
however, glowing with satisfaction.</p>

<p>Friar Sibyla entered first. Behind him came Father Salv&iacute;,
Father Manuel Martin and the other priests. They all humbly saluted the
Governor General, with the exception of Father Sibyla, who preserved
even in his bow, an air of superiority. Father Salv&iacute;, on the
contrary, almost touched the floor with his head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Which of Your Reverences is Father D&aacute;maso?&rdquo;
asked His Excellency unexpectedly, without having them sit down, or
even asking about their health, and without addressing them with any of
those courteous phrases which are customary with such high
personages.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father D&aacute;maso is not among us, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo;
replied Father Sibyla, rather dryly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Excellency&rsquo;s servant lies ill in bed,&rdquo; added
Father Salv&iacute; meekly. &ldquo;After having the pleasure of
saluting you and of inquiring about the health of Your Excellency, as
befits all the good servants of the King and all persons of good
education, we also come in the name of the respectful servant of Your
Excellency who has the misfortune....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; interrupted the Governor General, as he turned a
chair around on one leg and smiled nervously. &ldquo;If all the
servants of My Excellency were like His Reverence Father D&aacute;maso,
I would prefer to serve My Excellency myself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Reverences did not know how to respond to this interruption.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take a seat, Your Reverences!&rdquo; he added after a short
pause, softening his tone a little.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago came in dressed in a frock coat and walking <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb118" href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>on
tip-toes. He was leading Maria Clara by the hand. The young maiden was
trembling when she entered, but notwithstanding she made a graceful and
ceremonious bow.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is this your daughter?&rdquo; asked the Governor General,
somewhat surprised.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And Your Excellency&rsquo;s, my General,&rdquo; replied
Captain Tiago seriously.<a class="noteref" id="xd0e3094src" href=
"#xd0e3094">1</a></p>

<p>The <i>Alcalde</i> and the adjutants opened wide their eyes, but His
Excellency did not lose his gravity. He extended his hand to the young
maiden and said to her affably: &ldquo;Happy are the fathers who have
daughters like you, se&ntilde;orita. They have spoken to me about you
with respect and consideration.... I have desired to see you and to
thank you for your pretty deed of to-day. I am informed of all, and
when I write to His Majesty&rsquo;s Government I will not forget your
generous conduct. In the meantime, se&ntilde;orita, allow me in the
name of His Majesty the King whom I represent here and who loves to see
peace and tranquillity among his subjects, and in my own name, that of
a father who also has daughters of your age, allow me to extend to you
most sincere thanks and propose your name for some mark of
recognition.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or ...&rdquo; replied Maria Clara, trembling.</p>

<p>His Excellency guessed what she wanted to say, and replied:
&ldquo;It is well enough, se&ntilde;orita, that you are satisfied in
your own conscience with the mere esteem of your own people. The
testimony of one&rsquo;s people is the highest reward and we ought not
to ask more. But, however, I will not let pass this excellent
opportunity to show you that, if justice knows how to punish, she also
knows how to reward and is not always blind.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Don Juan Crisostomo awaits Your
Excellency&rsquo;s orders,&rdquo; announced the adjutant in a loud
voice.</p>

<p>Maria Clara trembled.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the Governor General. &ldquo;Permit me,
se&ntilde;orita, to express the desire to see you again before I leave
town. I still have some very important things to say to you.
Se&ntilde;or <i>Alcalde</i>, Your Lordship will accompany <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb119" href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>me for a walk
after the conference which I will hold alone with Se&ntilde;or
Ibarra.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Excellency will permit us,&rdquo; said Father
Salv&iacute; meekly, &ldquo;to inform you that Se&ntilde;or Ibarra is
excommunicated ...&rdquo;</p>

<p>His Excellency interrupted him saying: &ldquo;I am glad that I have
nothing more to deplore than the condition of Father D&aacute;maso, for
whom I sincerely wish a complete recovery, because at his age a voyage
to Spain for his health would not be pleasant. But this depends on him
... and in the meantime, may God preserve the health of Your
Reverences.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They retired one after the other.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We will see who will make the journey first,&rdquo; said a
Franciscan.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am going off now right away!&rdquo; said Father Sibyla,
with indignation.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And we are going back to our provinces, too,&rdquo; said the
Augustins.</p>

<p>They could not endure that through the fault of a Franciscan His
Excellency had received them coldly.</p>

<p>In the entrance hall they met Ibarra, their host only a few hours
ago. They exchanged no salutations, but their looks were eloquent.</p>

<p>The <i>Alcalde</i>, on the contrary, when the friars had
disappeared, greeted the young man and extended his hand to him in a
familiar way. But the arrival of the adjutant, who was looking for
Ibarra, did not give them an opportunity to converse.</p>

<p>Ibarra was dressed in deep mourning. He presented himself in a calm
manner, and bowed profoundly, despite the fact that the sight of the
friars had not seemed a good omen for him.</p>

<p>The Governor General advanced a few steps. &ldquo;It gives me great
satisfaction to shake your hand. Grant me your entire
confidence.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or ... such kindness...!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your surprise offends me. It indicates that you did not
expect a good reception from me. That is doubting my justice!&rdquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb120" href="#pb120">120</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;A friendly reception, se&ntilde;or, for an insignificant
subject like myself, is not justice, it is a favor.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, well!&rdquo; said His Excellency, sitting down and
pointing out a seat for Ibarra. &ldquo;Let us speak frankly. I am very
much pleased with your action and I have already proposed to His
Majesty&rsquo;s Government that they grant you an insignia for your
philanthropic intention of erecting a school.... If you had asked me, I
would have attended the ceremony with a great deal of pleasure and
perhaps the unpleasantness would have been avoided.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My idea of erecting a school seems to me so
insignificant,&rdquo; replied the young man, &ldquo;that I did not
think it an occasion worthy of taking the attention of Your Excellency
from your many duties and cares. Then, too, it was my duty to first
address the highest authority of the province.&rdquo;</p>

<p>His Excellency made a bow of satisfaction and adopting a still more
intimate manner, continued:</p>

<p>&ldquo;In regard to the unpleasantness which you have had with
Father D&aacute;maso, have no fear nor regret. I will not touch a hair
of your head while I govern these Islands. And in regard to the
excommunication, I will speak to the Archbishop, for it is necessary
for us to adapt ourselves to circumstances. Here, we cannot laugh about
these things in public as we do in Spain or in cultured Europe.
Nevertheless, be more prudent in the future. You have put yourself in
opposition to the religious corporations, which, on account of your
position and wealth, need to be respected. But I will protect you,
because I like good sons, I like to see a person respect the honor of
his father. I, too, love my father, and as sure as there is a God, I
know what I would have done had I been in your place....&rdquo;</p>

<p>And quickly turning the conversation, he asked: &ldquo;You have told
me that you come from Europe; were you in Madrid?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, se&ntilde;or; for some months.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have perhaps heard of my family?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Excellency had just left when I had the honor to be
presented to it.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb121" href=
"#pb121">121</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;And why, then, did you come here without bringing some letter
of introduction?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; replied Ibarra bowing, &ldquo;because I
do not come directly from Spain, and because, having heard of Your
Excellency&rsquo;s character, I thought that a letter of introduction
would not only be useless, but even offensive. All Filipinos are
recommended to you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A smile appeared on the lips of the old officer and he replied
slowly, as if weighing and measuring his words:</p>

<p>&ldquo;It flatters me to learn that you think so ... and ... so it
ought to be. However, young man, you ought to know what loads we bear
upon our shoulders here in the Philippines. Here, we, old army
officers, have to do and be everything: King, Secretary of State, of
War, of Agriculture, of Internal Affairs and of Justice. The worst part
of it is the fact that in regard to everything we have to consult our
distant Mother Country, which approves or rejects our propositions,
according to circumstances, sometimes blindly. And you know how we
Spaniards say: &lsquo;Grasp much, get little.&rsquo; Then, too, we come
here ignorant of the country and we leave it as soon as we begin to
know it. With you I can be frank, for it would be useless to appear
otherwise. In Spain, where each branch of the Government has its own
Minister, born and brought up in the country, where they have the press
and public opinion, the opposition is open and before the eyes of the
Government, and shows up its faults; yet, even there, all is imperfect
and defective. And when you consider the conditions here, it is a
wonder that all is not upset, with all those advantages lacking, and
with the opposition working in the dark. Good intentions and wishes are
not wanting in us governing officials, but we find ourselves obliged to
make use of eyes and arms which frequently we do not know, and which,
perhaps, instead of serving the country, serve only their own
interests. That is not our fault; it is the fault of circumstances. You
arouse my interest and I do not want our present system of government
to prejudice you in any way. I cannot watch everything, nor can I
attend to all. Can I be useful to you in any way? Have you anything to
request?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra meditated. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb122" href=
"#pb122">122</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;my greatest desire is
the happiness of my country, a happiness due to the efforts of our
Mother Country and to the efforts of my fellow countrymen, united with
the eternal bonds of a common interest and common object. What I ask
the Government can only give after many years of continuous work and
proper reforms.&rdquo;</p>

<p>His Excellency looked at him for several seconds with a look which
Ibarra met naturally, without timidity and without boldness.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are the first <i>man</i> with whom I have spoken in this
country,&rdquo; he exclaimed grasping his hand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your Excellency has only seen those who lead a grovelling
existence in the city. You have not seen the calumniated hovels of our
towns. If you had, you would have seen true men, if generous hearts and
simple manners make true men.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Governor General arose and paced the <i>sala</i> from one side
to the other.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra,&rdquo; he exclaimed, stopping a moment.
The young man arose. &ldquo;I will probably leave here within a month.
Your education and your mode of thinking are not for this country. Sell
what you possess, get your trunk ready and come with me to Europe. That
climate will be better for you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I shall cherish all my life the memory of Your
Excellency&rsquo;s kindness,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, moved by what the
Governor General had said. &ldquo;But I ought to live in the country
where my fathers have lived....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Where they have died, you should say, to speak more exactly.
Believe me! I possibly know your country better than you do
yourself.... Ah! Now I remember,&rdquo; he exclaimed changing the tone
of his voice. &ldquo;You are going to marry a lovely girl and I am
keeping you here! Go, go to her side, and that you may have greater
liberty send her father to me,&rdquo; he added, smiling. &ldquo;Do not
forget, however, that I want you to accompany me for a walk.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra bowed and departed.</p>

<p>His Excellency called his adjutant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am happy,&rdquo; said he, giving him a light slap on the
shoulder. &ldquo;To-day I have seen for the first time how one <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb123" href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>can be a
good Spaniard without ceasing to be a good Filipino and to love his
country. To-day, at last, I have shown the <i>Reverences</i> that we
are not all their playthings. This young man has afforded me the
opportunity, and, in a short time, I will have settled all of my
accounts with the friar. It&rsquo;s a pity that this young man, some
day or other ... but call the <i>Alcalde</i> to me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The latter presented himself at once.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Alcalde,&rdquo; he said to him, as he entered
the room, &ldquo;in order to avoid a repetition of scenes such as Your
Honor witnessed this afternoon, scenes which I deplore because they
take away the prestige of the Government and all Spaniards, I want to
commend to you warmly Se&ntilde;or Ibarra, that you may not only aid
him in carrying out his patriotic ends, but also prevent in the future
any person of whatever class or under whatever pretext, from molesting
him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>Alcalde</i> understood the reprimand and bowed to conceal his
confusion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have the <i>alferez</i>, who is in command here, informed to
the same effect. And you will find out if it is true that this officer
has methods of procedure that are not in accordance with the
regulations. I have heard more than one complaint on this
score.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Captain Tiago, all starched and ironed, presented himself.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Santiago,&rdquo; said His Excellency, in a cordial tone
of voice, &ldquo;a little while ago I was congratulating you on having
a daughter like the Se&ntilde;orita de los Santos. Now I want to
congratulate you on your future son-in-law. The most virtuous of
daughters is certainly worthy of the best citizen of the Philippines.
Is the date of the wedding known?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or!&rdquo; stammered the Captain, wiping away the
perspiration which was running down his face.</p>

<p>&ldquo;O, come! I see that there is nothing definite. If you need
godfathers, I will be one of them with the greatest pleasure. I would
do it to take away the bad taste which so many of the weddings which I
have attended here have left in my mouth,&rdquo; he added, turning to
the <i>Alcalde</i>. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb124" href=
"#pb124">124</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, se&ntilde;or!&rdquo; replied Captain Tiago, with a smile
which inspired compassion.</p>

<p>Ibarra had gone in search of Maria Clara, almost on a run. He had so
many things to tell her. He heard some gentle voices in one of the
rooms and knocked at the door.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who knocks?&rdquo; asked Maria Clara.</p>

<p>The voices were silenced and the door ... was not opened.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is I. May I come in?&rdquo; asked the young man, his heart
beating violently.</p>

<p>The silence was not broken. A few seconds afterward gentle steps
approached the door and Sinang&rsquo;s cheerful voice murmured through
the key-hole: &ldquo;Crisostomo, we are going to the theatre to-night.
Write what you have to say to Maria Clara.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then the footsteps were heard retreating, as quickly as they had
come.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What does that mean!&rdquo; murmured Ibarra to himself, as he
went slowly away from the door. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb125"
href="#pb125">125</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e3094src" id="xd0e3094">1</a></span> A reply which accords with
the Spanish idea of politeness but rather ludicrously used in this
instance.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch20" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Procession.</h2>

<p>In the evening, by the light of lanterns hung from windows, to the
ringing of bells and bursting of bombs, the procession started for the
fourth time.</p>

<p>The Governor General left the house on foot, in company with his two
adjutants, Captain Tiago, the <i>Alcalde</i>, the <i>alferez</i>, and
Ibarra. The Civil Guards and the officials of the town preceded them
and cleared the way. His Excellency had been invited to witness the
procession from the house of the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, in front of
which a platform had been erected for the recitation of a <i>loa</i>,
or religious poem, in honor of the Patron Saint. Ibarra had previously
declined with pleasure an invitation to hear this poetical composition,
as he had preferred to witness the procession from the house of Captain
Tiago with Maria Clara and her friends. But, as His Excellency wished
to hear the <i>loa</i>, there was no other remedy for Ibarra but to
console himself with the hope of seeing her at the theatre.</p>

<p>The procession was headed by three sacristans carrying silver
candlesticks. The children of the school, accompanied by their teacher,
followed. Then came the small boys, with colored paper lanterns
fastened to the ends of pieces of bamboo, each more or less adorned
according to the caprices of the boy, for this part of the illumination
was paid for entirely by themselves. However, they fulfilled this duty
with a great deal of pleasure.</p>

<p>In the midst of it all, men serving as police, passed to and fro to
see that the files of the procession were not broken or the people
jammed together in a crowd. For this purpose they used their wands and
inflicted some hard blows, thus managing to add to the brilliancy of
the procession, to the edification of souls and to the glory of
religious pomp. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb126" href=
"#pb126">126</a>]</span></p>

<p>At the same time that the officers inflicted these sanctified
floggings with their wands free of charge, others, to console those who
had been punished, distributed wax and tallow candles, also free of
charge.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Alcalde,&rdquo; said Ibarra, in a low voice,
&ldquo;do they inflict those blows to punish the sinners or merely for
pleasure?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are right, Se&ntilde;or Ibarra,&rdquo; replied the
Governor General, who had overheard his question. &ldquo;This spectacle
... barbarous ... astonishing to those who come from other countries,
ought to be prohibited.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Although it cannot be explained, the first saint who appeared was
San Juan el Baptisto. On seeing him, you would say that the cousin of
Our Saviour did not enjoy any great renown among these people. He had
slender feet and legs and the face of a hermit, and was carried along
on an old wooden litter. In marked contrast to the representation of
San Juan, was that of San Francisco, the founder of the great order.
The latter was drawn in a car, and, as Tasio said: &ldquo;What a car!
How many lights and glass lanterns! Why, I have never seen you
surrounded by so many illuminations, Giovanni Bernardone! And what
music!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Behind the music came a standard representing the same saint, but
with seven wings. It was carried by the brothers of the Third Order,
dressed in <i>guingon</i> and praying in a loud and mournful voice. The
next in the procession was Santa Maria Magdalena, a most beautiful
image with an abundant growth of hair, a handkerchief of embroidered
<i>pi&ntilde;a</i> cloth between her ring-covered fingers, and wearing
a dress of silk adorned with gold-leaf. Lights and incense surrounded
her. The glass tears from her eyes reflected the colors of the colored
fire which was burned here and there, giving a fantastic aspect to the
procession. Consequently, the sinful saint appeared to be weeping now
green, now red and now blue tears. The people did not begin to burn
these colored lights till San Francisco was passing; San Juan el
Baptisto did not enjoy this honor, passing by quickly, ashamed perhaps
to go dressed in skins among so many saints covered with gold and
precious jewels. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb127" href=
"#pb127">127</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;There goes our saint!&rdquo; cried the daughter of the <i>
gobernadorcillo</i> to her visitors. &ldquo;I loaned her my rings, but
I did it to get to Heaven.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Those carrying the illuminations stopped near the platform to hear
the <i>loa</i>. The saints did the same. They and their carriers wanted
to hear the verses. Those who carried San Juan, tired of waiting,
squatted down in the characteristic Filipino manner, and found it
convenient to leave their burden on the ground.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll get into trouble,&rdquo; objected one.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Jes&uacute;s!</i> In the <span class="corr" id="xd0e3319"
title="Source: sacristry">sacristy</span>, they leave him in a corner
among spider-webs....&rdquo;</p>

<p>After Magdalena came the women. They differed from the men in
arrangement. Instead of the children, the old women came first and
finally the unmarried women. Behind these came the car of the Virgin,
and behind that, the curate under his canopy. Father D&aacute;maso gave
the following reason for putting the young women next to the
Virgin&rsquo;s car: &ldquo;The Virgin likes young women, but not old
ones.&rdquo; Of course, this explanation caused many of the older women
to make wry faces, but that did not change the taste of the Virgin.</p>

<p>San Diego followed Magdalena, but he did not seem to rejoice over
the fact, for he was as precise in his behavior as on the morning when
he followed along behind San Francisco. Six brothers of the Third Order
drew the car. San Diego stopped before the platform and awaited for the
people to salute him.</p>

<p>But it was necessary to await the car which contained the image of
the Virgin. Preceding this car were some people dressed in a fantastic
manner which made children cry and babies scream. In the midst of that
dark mass of habits, hoods and girdles, to the sound of that monotonous
and nasal prayer, one could see, like white jessamine, like fresh
pansies among old rags, twelve young lassies dressed in white, crowned
with flowers, with hair curled and eyes bright as the necklaces they
wore. Seizing hold of two wide blue bands which were tied to the car of
the Virgin, they drew it along, reminding one of doves drawing the car
of Spring.</p>

<p>And now when the images were all attentive, when this <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb128" href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>child and that
had been slapped sufficiently to make him listen to the verses, when
everybody had his eyes fixed on the half open curtain, at last, an <i>
aaaah!</i> of admiration escaped from the lips of all.</p>

<p>And the sight merited it. A young child appeared with wings, riding
boots, a cordon over its shoulder, a belt and a plumed hat.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Se&ntilde;or Alcalde!&rdquo; cried some one, but the
young prodigy recited a poem in such a manner that the <i>Alcalde</i>
was not offended at the comparison.</p>

<p>The procession then continued. San Juan followed out his bitter
career.</p>

<p>As the Virgin passed before the house of Captain Tiago, a heavenly
song greeted her like the words of an archangel. It was a sweet,
melodious, supplicating voice, weeping the <i>Ave Maria</i> of Gounod.
The music of the procession was silenced, the praying ceased, and
Father Salv&iacute; himself stopped. The voice trembled and brought
tears to the cheeks of those who heard it. That voice expressed more
than a salutation, a prayer, or a plaint.</p>

<p>From the window, where he was viewing the procession, Ibarra heard
the voice, and melancholy took possession of his heart. He understood
what that soul was suffering and what was expressed in that song. He
was afraid to think of the cause of that grief.</p>

<p>The Governor General found him pensive and sad. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb129" href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch21" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Do&ntilde;a Consolacion.</h2>

<p>Why were the windows in the <i>alferez&rsquo;s</i> house closed?
Where was the masculine face and the flannel shirt of the Medusa or
Muse of the Civil Guard while the procession was passing? Could she
have understood how unpleasant was the sight of the swelling veins of
her forehead, filled, it seemed, not with blood but with vinegar and
bile; of her large cigar, that worthy ornament of her red lips; and of
her envious look; could she have understood all of that, and, giving
way to a generous impulse, have refrained from disturbing the gayety of
the crowd by her sinister apparition?</p>

<p>Alas! Her generous impulses lived only in the golden age.</p>

<p>Her house was sad because other people were merry, as Sinang put it.
There neither lanterns nor flags could be seen. In fact, if the sentry
were not walking up and down in front of the gate, you would have said
that the house was unoccupied.</p>

<p>A feeble light illumined the disarranged <i>sala</i>, and made
transparent the oyster-shell windows filled with spider-webs and
covered with dust. The Se&ntilde;ora, according to her custom, her
hands folded, sat in a wide arm-chair. She was dressed the same as
every day, that is to say, outrageously out of taste. In detail, she
had a handkerchief tied around her head, while short, slender locks of
tangled hair hung down on either side; a blue flannel shirt over
another shirt which should have been white; and a faded-out skirt which
moulded itself to her slender thighs as she sat with her legs crossed
and nervously wiggled her foot. From her mouth, came big puffs of
smoke, which she fastidiously blew up in the space toward which she
looked when her eyes were open. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb130"
href="#pb130">130</a>]</span></p>

<p>That morning the Se&ntilde;ora had not heard mass, not because she
had not cared to hear it, for on the contrary she wanted to show
herself to the multitude and to hear the sermon, but because her
husband had not permitted her to do so. As was usually the case, his
prohibition was accompanied by two or three insults, oaths and threats
of kicking. The <i>alferez</i> understood that his &ldquo;female&rdquo;
dressed herself in a ridiculous manner, and that it was not fitting to
expose her to the eyes of the people from the capital nor even the
country districts.</p>

<p>But she did not understand it that way. She knew that she was
beautiful, attractive, that she had the manners of a queen and that she
dressed much better and more gorgeously than Maria Clara herself,
though to be sure the latter wore a <i>tapis</i> over her skirt while
she wore only the skirt. The <i>alferez</i> had to say to her:
&ldquo;Oh, shut your mouth or I&rsquo;ll kick you till you
do!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion did not care to be kicked, but she planned
revenge.</p>

<p>The dark face of the Se&ntilde;ora never had inspired confidence in
anybody, not even when she painted it. That morning she was
exceptionally uneasy, and as she walked from one end of the <i>sala</i>
to the other, in silence and as if meditating something terrible, her
eyes shone like those of a serpent about to be crushed. Her look was
cold, luminous, and penetrating and had something vicious, loathsome
and cruel in it.</p>

<p>The slightest defect in anything, the most insignificant or unusual
noise brought forth an obscene and infamous expression; but no one
responded. To offer an excuse was a crime.</p>

<p>So the day passed. Encountering no obstacle in her way&mdash;her
husband had been invited out&mdash;she became saturated with bile.</p>

<p>Everything around bent itself before her. She met no resistance,
there was nothing upon which she could discharge the vials of her
wrath. Soldiers and servants crawled before her.</p>

<p>That she might not hear the rejoicing going on outside, she ordered
the windows to be closed, and charged the sentry not to permit any one
to enter. She tied a handkerchief <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb131"
href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>around her head to prevent it from
bursting; and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still shining
brightly, she ordered the lamps lighted.</p>

<p>A madwoman who had been detained for disturbing the public peace was
taken to the barracks. The <i>alferez</i> was not there at the time and
the unhappy woman had to pass the night seated on a bench. The
following day the <i>alferez</i> returned. Fearing lest the unhappy
woman should become the butt of the crowd during the <i>fiesta</i>, he
ordered the soldiers who were guarding her to treat her with pity and
give her something to eat. Thus the demented woman passed two days.</p>

<p>Whether the proximity to Captain Tiago&rsquo;s house made it
possible for the sad song of Maria Clara to reach her ears, whether
other strains of music awoke in her memories of old songs, or whether
there was some other cause for it, at any rate, the madwoman began that
night to sing with a sweet and melancholy voice the songs of her youth.
The soldiers heard her and kept silent. Those songs brought back
memories of the old times.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion also heard it in her sorrow, and became
interested in the person who was singing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell her to come upstairs at once!&rdquo; she ordered, after
some seconds of meditation. Something like a smile passed over her dry
lips.</p>

<p>They brought the woman and she presented herself without any
discomposure, and without manifesting either fear or surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Orderly, tell this woman in Tagalog to sing!&rdquo; said the
<i>alfereza</i>. &ldquo;She don&rsquo;t understand me; she does not
know Spanish.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The demented woman understood the orderly and sang the song
&ldquo;Night.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion listened to the beginning with a mocking
smile which disappeared gradually from her lips. She became attentive,
then more serious and pensive. The woman&rsquo;s voice, the sentiment
of the verses and the song itself impressed her. That dry and burning
heart was perhaps softened. She understood the song well:
&ldquo;Sadness, cold, and dampness, wrapped in the mantle of Night
descend from the sky,&rdquo; as the folk song <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb132" href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>puts it. It seemed that they
were also descending upon her heart. &ldquo;The withered flower which
during the day has paraded its dress, desirous of applause and full of
vanity, at nightfall repenting, makes an effort to raise its faded
petals to the sky, and begs for a little shade in which to hide itself,
so as to die without the mockery of the light which saw it in its pomp,
to die without the vanity of its pride being seen, and begging for a
drop of dew, to weep over it. The night bird, leaving its solitary
retreat in the hollow of the old tree, disturbs the melancholy of the
forests....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, no! Do not sing!&rdquo; exclaimed the <i>alfereza</i> in
perfect Tagalog and raising to her feet somewhat agitated.
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t sing! Those verses hurt me!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The demented woman stopped. The orderly muttered &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo;
and exclaimed &ldquo;She knows how to <i>pat&aacute;</i>
Tagalog!&rdquo; and stood looking at the se&ntilde;ora full of
surprise.</p>

<p>The Muse understood that she had been caught, and was ashamed. As
her nature was not that of a woman, her shame took the form of rage and
hatred. She pointed out the door to the impudent orderly and with a
kick closed it behind him. She took several turns about the room,
twisting a whip between her nervous hands, and then, stopping suddenly
in front of the demented woman, said in Spanish:
&ldquo;Dance!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The demented one did not move.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Dance! Dance!&rdquo; she repeated in a threatening voice.</p>

<p>The poor woman looked at the Se&ntilde;ora, her eyes devoid of
expression. The <i>alfereza</i> raised one arm and then the other,
shaking them in a menacing way.</p>

<p>She then leaped up in the air, and jumped around urging the other
woman to imitate her. The band in the procession could be heard playing
a slow, majestic march, but the Se&ntilde;ora, leaping about furiously
was keeping time to different music than that the band was playing,
that music which resounded within her. A curious look appeared in the
madwoman&rsquo;s eyes, and a weak smile moved her pale lips. She liked
the Se&ntilde;ora&rsquo;s dancing.</p>

<p>The <i>alfereza</i> stopped dancing as if ashamed. She raised the
whip, that terrible whip made in Ulango and improved by the <i>
alferez</i> by winding wire around it, that <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb133" href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>same terrible whip which the
<i>ladrones</i> and soldiers knew so well.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Now it is your turn to dance ... dance!&rdquo;</p>

<p>And she began to whip lightly the demented woman&rsquo;s bare
feet.</p>

<p>The pale face contracted with pain, and she was obliged to defend
herself from the blows by her hands.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come! Go ahead!&rdquo; she exclaimed with savage delight, and
she passed from <i>lento</i> to <a id="xd0e3481">
</a><i>allegro-vivace</i> in the use of her whip.</p>

<p>The unhappy woman screamed and quickly raised her feet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have got to dance, you d&mdash;&mdash;d Indian!&rdquo;
exclaimed the Se&ntilde;ora and the whip whizzed and whistled.</p>

<p>The woman let herself sink to the floor and tried to cover her legs
with her hands, at the same time looking with wild eyes at her
tormentor. Two heavy <span class="corr" id="xd0e3491" title="Source:
lashs">lashes</span> on her back made her rise again. Now it was no
longer a scream; it was a howl which escaped from the unfortunate
woman. The thin shirt was torn, the skin broke open and the blood oozed
out.</p>

<p>The sight of blood excites a tiger; so, too, the sight of the blood
of her victim infuriated Do&ntilde;a Consolacion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Dance! dance! Curse you! D&mdash;&mdash;n you! Dance! Cursed
be the mother who bore you!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Dance, or
I&rsquo;ll kill you by whipping you to death!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then the <i>alfereza</i>, taking the woman with one hand and
whipping her with another, began to jump and dance.</p>

<p>The insane woman understood her at last and went on moving her arms
regardless of time or tune. A smile of satisfaction contracted the lips
of the teacher. It was like the smile of a female Mephistopheles who
had succeeded in developing a good pupil; it was full of hatred,
contempt, mockery and cruelty; a coarse laugh could not have expressed
more.</p>

<p>Absorbed in the enjoyment which the spectacle afforded her, she did
not hear her husband coming, until he opened the door with a kick.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> appeared, pale and gloomy. He saw what was going
on there and looked daggers at his wife. She <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb134" href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>did not move from her tracks
and stood smiling in a cynical way.</p>

<p>In the gentlest manner possible, he put his hand on the shoulder of
the dancing woman and made her stop. The demented woman sighed and
slowly sat down on the blood-covered floor.</p>

<p>The silence continued. The <i>alferez</i> was breathing heavily. His
wife was observing him with her questioning eyes. She seized the whip
and in a calm and measured tone asked him: &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the
matter with you? You have not said &lsquo;good evening&rsquo; to
me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i>, without replying, called the orderly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take this woman,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and have Marta give
her another shirt and take care of her. Find her good food, and a good
bed.... Let him look out who treats her badly!&rdquo;</p>

<p>After carefully closing the door, he turned the key in the lock and
approached his se&ntilde;ora.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You want me to smash you?&rdquo; he said, clenching his
fists.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with you?&rdquo; asked she,
retreating a step or two.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with me?&rdquo; he shouted, in a
thundering voice, and, giving vent to an oath, showed her a paper
covered with scribbling. He continued:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you write this letter to the <i>Alcalde</i>,
saying that I am paid for permitting the gambling, d&mdash;&mdash;n
you? I don&rsquo;t know how I can keep from smashing you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go ahead! Try it if you dare!&rdquo; said she, with a mocking
smile. &ldquo;He who smashes me has got to be more of a man than
you!&rdquo;</p>

<p>He heard the insult, but he saw the whip. He seized one of the
plates which were on the table and threw it at her head. The woman,
accustomed to these fights, ducked quickly and the plate was shivered
to pieces against the wall. A glass, a cup, and a knife shared the same
fortune.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Coward!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You dare not come near
me!&rdquo;</p>

<p>And then she spat at him to exasperate him more. The man, blind and
howling with rage, threw himself on her, but she, with wonderful
rapidity, struck him a few blows <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb135"
href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>across the face with the whip, and quickly
escaped. Closing the door of her room with a slam, she locked herself
in. Roaring with rage and pain the <i>alferez</i> followed her, but,
coming up against the door, he could do nothing but belch forth a
string of blasphemies.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Cursed be your ancestors, you swine! Open, d&mdash;&mdash;n
you! Open that door or I&rsquo;ll break your skull!&rdquo; he howled,
pounding and kicking the panels.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion did not reply. A moving of chairs and trunks
could be heard, as though some one was trying to raise a barricade of
household furniture. The house fairly shook with the oaths and kicks of
the husband.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you come in! Don&rsquo;t you come in!&rdquo; she
said, in a bitter voice. &ldquo;If you show yourself, I&rsquo;ll shoot
you!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The husband calmed down, little by little, and contented himself
with pacing from one end of the <i>sala</i> to the other like a wild
animal in its cage.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go and cool your head!&rdquo; continued the woman in mockery.
She seemed to have concluded her preparations for defense.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I swear that when I catch you, no one&mdash;not even
God&mdash;will see you again! I&rsquo;ll smash you so fine.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes! Now you can say what you wish. You would not let me go
to mass. You would not let me fulfill my duty to God!&rdquo; she said
with such sarcasm as she alone knew how to use.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> took his helmet, straightened out his clothes,
and walked away several paces. But, at the end of several minutes, he
returned without making the slightest noise, for he had taken off his
boots. The servants, accustomed to these spectacles, paid no attention
to them, but the novelty of this move with the boots attracted their
notice and they gave each other the wink.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> sat down on a chair next to the door and had the
patience to wait more than half an hour.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you really gone out or are you there, you
he-goat?&rdquo; asked a voice from time to time, changing the epithets
but raising the tone.</p>

<p>Finally, she commenced to take away the furniture from her
barricade. He heard the noise and smiled. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb136" href="#pb136">136</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Orderly! Has the se&ntilde;or gone out?&rdquo; cried
Do&ntilde;a Consolacion.</p>

<p>The orderly at a signal from the <i>alferez</i>, replied:
&ldquo;Yes, se&ntilde;ora, he has gone out!&rdquo;</p>

<p>He could hear her laugh triumphantly. She drew back the bolt. The
husband arose to his feet slowly; the door was opened.</p>

<p>A cry, the noise of a body falling, oaths, howling, swearing, blows,
hoarse voices. Who can describe what took place in the darkness of the
bedroom?</p>

<p>The orderly, going out to the kitchen, made a very expressive
gesture to the cook.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And now you&rsquo;ll catch it!&rdquo; said the latter.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I? No, sir. The town will, not I. She asked me if he had gone
out, not if he had returned.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb137" href="#pb137">137</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch22" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Might and Right.</h2>

<p>It was about ten o&rsquo;clock at night. The last rockets lazily
soared into the dark sky, where paper balloons shone like new stars.
Some of the fireworks had set fire to houses and were threatening them
with destruction; for this reason men could be seen on the ridges of
the roofs carrying buckets of water and long bamboo poles with cloths
tied on the ends. Their dark shadows seemed descended from ethereal
space to be present at the rejoicings of human beings. An enormous
number of wheels had been burned, also castles, bulls, <i>caraboas</i>
and other pieces of fireworks, and finally a great volcano, which
surpassed in beauty and grandeur anything that the inhabitants of San
Diego had ever seen.</p>

<p>Now the people turned in one great crowd toward the plaza to attend
the last theatrical performance. Here and there could be seen the
colored Bengal lights, fantastically illuminating groups of merry
people. The small boys were making use of their torches to search for
unexploded firecrackers in the grass, or, in fact, for anything else
that might be of use to them. But the music was the signal and all
abandoned the lawn for the theatre.</p>

<p>The large platform was splendidly illuminated. Thousands of lights
surrounded the pillars and hung from the roof, while a number, in
pyramid-shaped groups, were arranged on the floor of the stage. An
employee attended to these and whenever he would come forward to
regulate them, the public would whistle at him and shout: &ldquo;There
he is! There he is now!&rdquo;</p>

<p>In front of the stage, the orchestra tuned its instruments, and<a
id="xd0e3620"></a> behind the musicians sat the principal people of the
town. Spaniards and rich visitors were occupying the reserved chairs.
The public, the mass of people without <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb138" href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>titles or rank, filled the rest of
the plaza. Some carried with them benches, not so much for seats as to
remedy their lack of stature. When they stood upon them, rude protests
were made on the part of those without benches or things to stand on.
Then they would get down immediately, but soon mount up on their
pedestals again as if nothing had happened.</p>

<p>Comings and goings, cries, exclamations, laughter, squibs that had
been slow in going off, and firecrackers increased the tumult. Here, a
foot broke through a bench, and some one fell to the floor, while the
crowd laughed and made a show of him who had come so far to see a show.
There, they fought and disputed over positions, and, a little farther
on, the noise of breaking bottles and glasses could be heard: it was
Andeng. She was carrying drinks and refreshments on a tray which she
was balancing with both hands, but she had met her lover and he tried
to take advantage of her helplessness by tickling....</p>

<p>The <i>teniente mayor</i> presided at the production since the <i>
gobernadorcillo</i> was fonder of <i>monte</i>.</p>

<p>Maria Clara and her friends had arrived, and Don Filipo received
them, and accompanied them to their seats. Behind came the curate with
another Franciscan and some Spaniards. With the curate were some other
people who make it their business to escort the friars.</p>

<p>&ldquo;May God reward them in another life,&rdquo; said the old man,
referring to them as he walked away from Maria Clara&rsquo;s party.</p>

<p>The performance began with Chananay and Marianito in <i>
Crispino&eacute; la Comare</i>. Everybody had eyes and ears intent upon
the stage, except one, Father Salv&iacute;. He seemed to have come to
the theatre for no other purpose than to watch Maria Clara, whose
sadness gave to her beauty an air so ideal and interesting that
everybody looked upon her with rapture. But the Franciscan&rsquo;s
eyes, deeply hidden in their hollow orbits, spoke no words of rapture.
In that sombre look one could read something desperately sad. With such
eyes Cain might have contemplated from afar the Paradise whose delights
his mother had pictured to him. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb139"
href="#pb139">139</a>]</span></p>

<p>The act was just ending when Ibarra arrived. His presence occasioned
a buzz of conversation. The attention of everybody was fixed on him and
on the curate.</p>

<p>But the young man did not seem to be aware of it, for he greeted
Maria Clara and her friends with naturalness and sat down at their
side. The only one who spoke was Sinang.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you see the volcano when they touched it off?&rdquo; she
asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, my little friend. I had to accompany the Governor
General.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, that is too bad! The curate came with us and he was
telling us stories about condemned people. What do you think?
Doesn&rsquo;t he do it to make us afraid so that we cannot enjoy
ourselves? How does it appear to you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The curate arose and approached Don Filipo, with whom he seemed to
be having a lively discussion. He was speaking with animation and Don
Filipo replying with moderation and in a low voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am sorry that I cannot please Your Reverence,&rdquo; said
the latter. &ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra is one of the heaviest
tax-payers and has a right to sit here as long as he does not disturb
the public order.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But is not scandalizing good Christians disturbing the public
order? You let a wolf into the flock. You will be held responsible for
this before God and before the authorities of the town.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I always hold myself responsible for acts which emanate from
my own will, Father,&rdquo; replied Don Filipo, slightly inclining his
head. &ldquo;But my little authority does not give me power to meddle
in religious affairs. Those who wish to avoid contact with him do not
have to speak to him. Se&ntilde;or Ibarra does not force himself on any
one.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But he affords danger. He who loves danger perishes in
it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see any danger, Father. The <i>Alcalde</i> and
the Governor General, my superiors, have been talking with him all the
afternoon, and it is not for me to give them a lesson.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t put him out of here, we will leave.&rdquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb140" href="#pb140">140</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;I am very, very sorry, but I cannot put any one out of
here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The curate repented having said what he did, but now there was no
alternative. He made a signal to his companion, who laboriously rose to
his feet and both went out. The persons attached to the friars imitated
the priests, not, however, without first glancing with hatred at
Ibarra.</p>

<p>Murmurs and whispers increased. Then various persons approached and
saluted the young man and said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;We are with you. Take no notice of them.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who are <i>&rsquo;them&rsquo;</i>?&rdquo; he asked with
surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Those who have gone out in order to avoid contact with
you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To avoid contact with me? Contact with me?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, they say that you are excommunicated.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra, surprised, did not know what to say and looked around him.
He saw Maria Clara, who was hiding her face behind her fan.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But is it possible?&rdquo; he exclaimed at last. &ldquo;Are
we still in the darkness of the Middle Ages? So
that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>And turning to the young women and changing his tone, he said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Excuse me; I have forgotten an appointment. I will return to
accompany you home.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; said Sinang. &ldquo;Yeyeng is going to dance in
the &lsquo;La Calandria.&rsquo; She dances divinely.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I cannot, my little friend, but I will certainly
return.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The murmurs increased.</p>

<p>While Yeyeng, dressed in the style of the lower class of Madrid, was
coming on the stage with the remark: &ldquo;<i lang="es">Da Ust&eacute;
su permiso?</i>&rdquo; (Do you give your permission?) and as Carvajal
was replying to her &ldquo;<i lang="es">Pase ust&eacute;
adelante</i>&rdquo; (Pass forward), two soldiers of the Civil Guard
approached Don Filipo, asking him to suspend the performance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what for?&rdquo; asked he, surprised at the request.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because the <i>alferez</i> and his Se&ntilde;ora have been
fighting and they cannot sleep.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You tell the <i>alferez</i> that we have permission from the
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb141" href=
"#pb141">141</a>]</span><i>Alcalde</i>, and that no one in the town has
any authority over him, not even the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, who is my
<i>on-ly su-per-ior</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, you will have to suspend the performance,&rdquo;
repeated the soldiers.</p>

<p>Don Filipo turned his back to them. The guards marched off.</p>

<p>In order not to disturb the general tranquillity, Don Filipo said
not a word about the matter to any one.</p>

<p>After a piece of light opera, which was heartily applauded, the
Prince Villardo presented himself on the stage, and challenged all the
Moros, who had imprisoned his father, to a fight. The hero threatened
to cut off all their heads at a single blow and to send them all to the
moon. Fortunately for the Moros, who were making ready to fight to the
tune of the &ldquo;Riego Hymn,&rdquo;<a class="noteref" id=
"xd0e3746src" href="#xd0e3746">1</a> a tumult intervened. All of a
sudden, the orchestra stopped playing and the musicians made a rush for
the stage, throwing their instruments in all directions. The brave
Villardo was not expecting such a move, and, taking them for allies of
the Moros he also threw down his sword and shield and began to run. The
Moros, seeing this terrible giant fleeing, found it convenient to
imitate him. Cries, sighs, imprecations and blasphemies filled the air.
The people ran, trampled over each other, the lights were put out, and
the glass lamps with their cocoanut oil and little wicks were flying
through the air. &ldquo;<i>Tulisanes! Tulisanes!</i>&rdquo; cried some.
&ldquo;Fire! Fire! <i>Ladrones!</i>&rdquo; cried others. Women and
children wept, chairs and spectators were rolled over on the floor in
the midst of the confusion, rush and tumult.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What has happened?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Two Civil Guards with sticks in hand had gone after the musicians in
order to put an end to the spectacle. The <i>teniente mayor</i>, with
the <i>cuaderilleros</i>,<a class="noteref" id="xd0e3765src" href=
"#xd0e3765">2</a> armed with their old sabers, had managed to arrest
the two Civil Guards in spite of their resistance. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb142" href="#pb142">142</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Take them to the tribunal!&rdquo; shouted Don Filipo.
&ldquo;Be careful not to let them get away!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra had returned and had sought out Maria Clara. The terrified
young maidens, trembling and pale, were clinging closely to him. Aunt
Isabel was reciting the litanies in Latin.</p>

<p>The crowd having recovered a little from the fright and some one
having explained what had caused the rush and tumult, indignation arose
in everyone&rsquo;s breast. Stones rained upon the Civil Guards who
were being conducted to the tribunal by the <i>cuaderilleros</i>. Some
one proposed that they burn the barracks of the Civil Guards and that
they roast Do&ntilde;a Consolacion and the <i>alferez</i> alive.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is all that they are good for,&rdquo; cried a woman,
rolling up her sleeves and stretching out her arms. &ldquo;They can
disturb the people but they persecute none but honorable men. They do
nothing with the <i>tulisanes</i> and the gamblers. Look at them! Let
us burn the <i>cuartel</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Somebody had been wounded in the arm and was asking for confession.
A plaintive voice was heard coming from under an upset bench. It was a
poor musician. The stage was filled with the players and people of the
town and they were all talking at the same time. There was Chananay,
dressed in the costume of Leonor in the &ldquo;Trovador,&rdquo; talking
in corrupted Spanish with Ratia, who was in a school teacher&rsquo;s
costume. There too, was Yeyeng, dressed in a silk wrapper, talking with
the Prince Villardo. There too, Balbino and the Moros, trying to
console the musicians who were more or less sorry sights. Some
Spaniards were walking from one place to another, arguing with every
one they met.</p>

<p>But a nucleus for a mob already formed. Don Filipo knew what was
their intention and tried to stop them.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not break the peace!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;To-morrow
we will demand satisfaction: we will have justice. I will take the
responsibility for our getting justice.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; some replied. &ldquo;They did the same thing in
Calamba. The same thing was promised, but the <i>Alcalde</i> <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb143" href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>did
nothing. We want justice done by our own hands. To the <i>
cuartel</i>!&rdquo;</p>

<p>In vain the <i>teniente mayor</i> argued with them. The group that
had gathered showed no signs of changing its attitude or purpose. Don
Filipo looked about him, in search of help. He saw Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Ibarra, for my sake, as a favor, hold them while
I seek some <i>cuaderilleros</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What can I do?&rdquo; asked the young man, perplexed. But the
<i>teniente mayor</i> was already in the distance.</p>

<p>Ibarra in turn looked about him, for he knew not whom. Fortunately,
he thought he discerned Elias, in the crowd, but not taking an active
part in it. Ibarra ran up to him, seized his arm and said to him in
Spanish:</p>

<p>&ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake! Do something, if you can! I cannot
do anything.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The pilot must have understood, for he lost himself in the mob.</p>

<p>Lively discussions were heard mingled with strong interjections.
Soon the mob began to disperse, each one of the participants becoming
less hostile. And it was time for them to do so, for the <i>
cuaderilleros</i> were coming to the scene with fixed bayonets.</p>

<p>In the meantime, what was the curate doing?</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; had not gone to bed. Standing on foot, immovable
and leaning his face against the shutter, he was looking toward the
plaza and, from time to time, a suppressed sigh escaped his breast. If
the light of his lamp had not been so dim, perhaps one might have seen
that his eyes were filling with tears. Thus he stood for almost an
hour.</p>

<p>The tumult in the plaza roused him from this state. Full of
surprise, he followed with his eyes the people as they rushed to and
fro in confusion. Their voices and cries he could vaguely hear even at
that distance. One of the servants came running in breathlessly and
informed him what was going on.</p>

<p>A thought entered his mind. Amid confusion and tumult libertines
take advantage of the fright and the weakness of woman. All flee to
save themselves; nobody thinks of anyone else; the women faint and
their cries <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb144" href=
"#pb144">144</a>]</span>are not heard; they fall; are trampled over;
fear and fright overcome modesty, and under cover of darkness.... He
fancied he could see Ibarra carrying Maria Clara fainting in his arms,
and then disappearing in the darkness.</p>

<p>With leaps and bounds, he went down the stairs without hat, or cane,
and, almost like a crazy person, turned toward the plaza.</p>

<p>There he found some Spaniards reproving the soldiers. He looked
toward the seats which Maria Clara and her friends had been occupying,
and saw that they were vacant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father curate! Father curate!&rdquo; shouted the Spaniards to
him, but he took no notice and ran on in the direction of the house of
Captain Tiago. There he recovered his breath. He saw through the
transparent shade, a shadow&mdash;that adorable shadow, so graceful and
delicate in its contour&mdash;that of Maria Clara. He could also see
another shadow, that of her aunt carrying cups and glasses.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; he muttered to himself. &ldquo;It seems that she
has only fallen ill.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Aunt Isabel afterward closed the shell windows and the graceful
shadow could no longer be seen.</p>

<p>The curate walked away from there without seeing the crowd. He was
looking at the bust of a beautiful maiden which he had before his eyes,
a maiden sleeping and breathing sweetly. Her eyelids were shaded by
long lashes, which formed graceful curves like those on Rafael&rsquo;s
virgins. Her small mouth was smiling, and her whole countenance seemed
to breathe virginity, purity and innocence. That sweet face of hers on
the background of the white draperies of the bed was a vision like the
head of a cherubim among the clouds. His impassioned imagination went
on and pictured to him.... Who can describe all that a burning brain
can conceive? <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb145" href=
"#pb145">145</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e3746src" id="xd0e3746">1</a></span> A popular Spanish song handed
down from the time of Riego&rsquo;s uprising in Spain.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e3765src" id="xd0e3765">2</a></span> Volunteer police.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch23" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Two Visitors.</h2>

<p>Ibarra found his mind in such a state that it was impossible for him
to sleep. So, in order to divert himself and to drive away the gloomy
idea which distracted his mind, he began work in his solitary
laboratory. Morning came upon him, still at work making mixtures and
compounds to the action of which he submitted pieces of cane and other
substances, and afterward enclosed them in numbered and sealed
flasks.</p>

<p>A servant entered, announcing the arrival of a peasant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let him enter!&rdquo; said he, without even turning to
look.</p>

<p>Elias entered and remained standing in silence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! is it you?&rdquo; Ibarra exclaimed in Tagalog on
recognizing him. &ldquo;Excuse me if I have kept you waiting. I was not
aware of your presence. I was making an important
experiment.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not wish to disturb you!&rdquo; replied the young pilot.
&ldquo;I have come in the first place, to ask you if you want anything
from the province of Batangas, whither I am going now; and, in the
second place, to give you some bad news.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked inquiringly at the pilot.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The daughter of Captain Tiago is ill,&rdquo; added Elias
quietly, &ldquo;but the illness is not serious.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I had already feared it,&rdquo; responded Ibarra. &ldquo;Do
you know what the illness is?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A fever. Now, if you have nothing to
order&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Thanks, my friend. I wish you a good journey, but before you
go, permit me to ask you a question. If it is indiscreet, do not answer
me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias bowed. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb146" href=
"#pb146">146</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;How were you able to quiet the mob last night?&rdquo; asked
Ibarra, fixing his eyes on him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;In a very simple way,&rdquo; replied Elias, with entire
frankness. &ldquo;At the head of it were two brothers whose father died
from the effects of a whipping at the hands of the Civil Guard. One day
I had the fortune to save them from the same hands into which their
father fell, and for this both are under obligations to me. Last night
I went to them, and requested them to dissuade the others from their
purpose.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And those two brothers whose father died by being whipped to
death?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;They will end their lives in the same way,&rdquo; replied
Elias in a low voice. &ldquo;When adversity has marked itself once on a
family, all the members have to perish. When the lightning strikes a
tree, it reduces it all to ashes.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Elias, seeing that Ibarra was silent, took his leave.</p>

<p>The latter on finding himself alone, lost the serenity of
countenance which he had preserved in the presence of the pilot, and
grief manifested itself in his face.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I have made her suffer,&rdquo; he muttered.</p>

<p>He quickly dressed himself and descended the stairs.</p>

<p>A little man, dressed in mourning, with a large scar on his left
cheek, meekly saluted him, stopping him on his way.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you wish?&rdquo; Ibarra asked him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or, my name is Lucas. I am the brother of the man
who was killed yesterday during the ceremony when the stone was being
laid.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! You have my sympathy&mdash;and, well?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or, I wish to know how much you are going to pay my
brother&rsquo;s family.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How much I am going to pay?&rdquo; repeated the young man
without being able to conceal a bored expression. &ldquo;We will talk
that over. Come back this afternoon, for I am busy to-day.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Only tell me how much you are going to pay,&rdquo; insisted
Lucas.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have told you that we would talk about that some other
time. I&rsquo;m too busy to-day,&rdquo; said Ibarra, impatiently. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb147" href="#pb147">147</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;You haven&rsquo;t time now, se&ntilde;or?&rdquo; asked Lucas
with bitterness and putting himself in front of the young man.
&ldquo;You do not have time to occupy yourself about the
dead?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come this afternoon, my good fellow!&rdquo; repeated Ibarra,
restraining himself. &ldquo;To-day I have to go and see a sick
person.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! and you forget the dead for a sick person? Do you think
that because we are poor&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him and cut off what he was saying.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t try my patience!&rdquo; said he, and went on his
way. Lucas stood looking at him, with a smile on his face, full of
hatred.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You do not know that you are a grandson of the man who
exposed my father to the sun!&rdquo; he muttered between his teeth.
&ldquo;You have the very same blood in your veins!&rdquo;</p>

<p>And, changing his tone he added:</p>

<p>&ldquo;But if you pay well, we are friends.&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb148" href="#pb148">148</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch24" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Episode in Espada&ntilde;a&rsquo;s Life.</h2>

<p>The festival was over. The citizens found, just as every year, that
their treasury was poorer, that they had worked, perspired, and stayed
up nights without enjoying themselves, without acquiring new friends,
and in a word, had paid dearly for the noise and their headaches. But
it did not matter. The next year they would do the same thing, and the
same for the coming century, just as had always been the custom to the
present time.</p>

<p>Enough sadness reigned in Captain Tiago&rsquo;s house. All the
windows were closed; the people scarcely made a noise, and no one dared
to speak except in the kitchen. Maria Clara, the soul of the house, lay
sick in her bed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you think, Isabel? Shall I make a donation to the
cross of Tunasan or to the cross of Matahong?&rdquo; asked the
solicitous father in a low voice. &ldquo;The cross of <span class=
"corr" id="xd0e3945" title="Source: Tunason">Tunasan</span> grows, but
that of Matahong sweats. Which do you think is the most
miraculous?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Isabel thought for a moment, moved her head and murmured: &ldquo;To
grow&mdash;to grow is more miraculous than to sweat. We all sweat, but
we do not all grow.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is true, yes, Isabel, but bear in mind that for wood to
sweat when it is made into the leg of a chair is no small miracle.
Well, the best thing to do is to give alms to both crosses, so that
neither will feel resentful, and Maria Clara will recover more quickly.
Are the rooms in good order? You know that a new se&ntilde;or comes
with the doctors, a relative of Father D&aacute;maso by marriage. It is
necessary that nothing be lacking.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The two cousins, Sinang and Victoria, were at the other end of the
dining-room. They had come to keep company with the sick Maria. Andeng
was helping them clean up a tea service in order to serve tea. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb149" href="#pb149">149</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know Doctor Espada&ntilde;a?&rdquo; asked Maria
Clara&rsquo;s foster sister, directing her question to Victoria.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; replied the latter. &ldquo;The only thing that I
know about him is that he charges very dearly, according to Captain
Tiago.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then he ought to be very good,&rdquo; said Andeng. &ldquo;The
one who performed the operation on the stomach of Do&ntilde;a Marta
charged a big price, but he was very wise.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You goose!&rdquo; exclaimed Sinang. &ldquo;Not all who charge
high prices are wise. Look at Doctor Guevara. He did not know how to
aid a woman in childbirth, but after cutting off the child&rsquo;s
head, he collected one hundred <i>pesos</i> from the widower. What he
did know was how to charge.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you know about it?&rdquo; her cousin asked, giving
her a jab with her elbow.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t I know about it? The husband, who is a
wood-sawyer, after losing his wife, had to lose his house also, for the
<i>Alcalde</i> was a friend of the doctor&rsquo;s and made him pay. Why
shouldn&rsquo;t I know? My father loaned him money so that he could
make a trip to Santa Cruz.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A coach stopped before the house and cut off all the
conversation.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago, followed by Aunt Isabel, ran downstairs to receive
the new arrivals. They were the doctor, Don Tiburcio de
Espada&ntilde;a, his wife, Doctora Do&ntilde;a Victorina de los Reyes
<i>de</i> de Espada&ntilde;a; and a young Spaniard. The latter had a
sympathetic face and a pleasing appearance.</p>

<p>The <i>doctora</i> wore a silk gown, embroidered with flowers, and
on her hat, a large parrot half crushed among trimmings of red and blue
ribbons. The dust of the road had mingled with the rice powder on her
cheeks, strongly accentuating her wrinkles. She was leaning on the arm
of her lame husband.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have the pleasure to present to you our cousin, Don Alfonso
Linares de Espada&ntilde;a,&rdquo; said Do&ntilde;a Victorina, pointing
toward the young man. &ldquo;The gentleman is a god-son of a relative
of Father D&aacute;maso, and is private secretary to all the
ministers.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb150" href=
"#pb150">150</a>]</span></p>

<p>The young man bowed gracefully. Captain Tiago almost kissed his
hand.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina was a woman of about forty-five summers,
which, according to her arithmetical calculations, was equivalent to
thirty-two springs. She had been pretty in her youth, but, raging over
her own beauty, she had looked with disdain on many Filipino adorers,
for her aspirations were for the other race. She had not cared to
entrust her little white hand to anybody, but this not on account of
lack of confidence on her part, for she had entrusted rings and jewels
of inestimable value to various foreign adventurers.</p>

<p>Six months before the time of the happenings of which we are
writing, she saw her beautiful dream realized, that dream of her whole
life, on account of which she had disdained all manner of flattery and
even the promises of love, which had been cooed into her ears, or sung
in serenades by Captain Tiago. Late, it is true, she had realized her
dream; but she knew well the proverb&mdash;&ldquo;Better late than
never,&rdquo; and consoled herself by repeating it again and again.
&ldquo;There is no complete happiness on this earth,&rdquo; was her
other favorite proverb, but neither of these ever passed her lips in
the presence of other people.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina, after passing her first, second, third and
fourth youth in fishing in the sea of men for the object of her dreams,
had at last to content herself with what fortune cared to give her. The
poor little woman, if she, instead of having passed thirty-two springs,
had not passed more than thirty-one&mdash;the difference according to
her arithmetic was very great&mdash;would have thrown back the prize
which Destiny offered her, and preferred to wait for another more in
conformity with her tastes. But, as the man proposed and necessity
disposed it so, for she needed a husband very badly, she was compelled
to content herself with a poor man, who had been driven by necessity to
leave the Province of Estremadura in Spain. He, after wandering about
the world for six or seven months, a modern Ulysses, found at last in
the island of Luzon, hospitality, money, and a faded Calypso, his
better half&mdash;but alas! a bitter half. He was known as the unhappy
Tiburcio Espada&ntilde;a, and, although he was <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb151" href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>thirty-five years old and
seemed even older, he was, however, younger than Do&ntilde;a Victorina,
who was only thirty-two.</p>

<p>He had come to the Philippines in the capacity of clerk in the
custom house, but after all the sea-sickness of the voyage and after
fracturing a leg on the way, he had the bad luck to receive his
discharge fifteen days after his arrival. He was left without a single
<i>cuarto</i>.</p>

<p>Distrusting the sea, he did not wish to return to Spain without
having made a fortune. So he decided to devote himself to something.
Spanish pride did not permit him to do any manual labor. The poor man
would have worked with pleasure to have earned an honorable living, but
the prestige of the Spaniard did not permit this, nor did that prestige
provide him with the necessities of life.</p>

<p>At first he lived at the expense of some of his countrymen, but, as
Tiburcio had some self-respect, the bread was sour to him, and instead
of getting fat he grew thin. As he had neither knowledge of any
science, money nor recommendations, his countrymen, in order to get rid
of him, advised him to go to some of the provinces and pass himself off
as a Doctor of Medicine. At first, he did not like the idea, and
opposed the plan, for although he had been a servant in the San Carlos
Hospital, he had not learned anything about the science of healing, his
duty having been to dust off the benches and light the fires, and, even
in this work, he had served only a short time. But as necessity was
pressing him hard, and as his friends pointed out the vanity of his
scruples, he took their advice, went into the provinces and began to
visit the sick, charging as much for his services as his conscience
permitted. Later on he began to charge dearly and to put a high price
on his visits. On this account, he was at once taken to be a great
doctor and would probably have made his fortune, had not the attention
of the Protective Medical Society of Manila, been called to his
exorbitant charges and to his harmful competition.</p>

<p>Private citizens and professors interceded in his behalf.
&ldquo;Man!&rdquo; said the zealous Doctor C. in speaking of him.
&ldquo;Let him make his little money. Let him make <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb152" href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>his little six or
seven thousand <i>pesos</i>. He will be able to return to his native
land then and live in peace. What does it matter to you? Let him
deceive the unwary natives. Then they may become smarter. He is a poor,
unhappy fellow. Do not take the bread from his mouth. Be a good
Spaniard!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Doctor C. was a good Spaniard and he winked at the matter. But when
the facts reached the ears of the people, they began to lose confidence
in him, and little by little Don Tiburcio Espada&ntilde;a lost his
clientage, and found himself almost obliged to beg for bread day by
day. Then it was that he learned from a friend of his, who was also a
friend of Do&ntilde;a Victorina about the position of that woman, and
about her patriotism and good heart. Don Tiburcio saw in her a bit of
blue sky and asked to be presented.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina and Don Tiburcio met. <i lang="la">Tarde
venientibus ossa</i>, he would have exclaimed if he had known Latin.
She was no longer passable, she was past. Her abundant hair had been
reduced to a wad about the size of an onion top, as the servants were
wont to describe it. Her face was full of wrinkles and her teeth had
begun to loosen. Her eyes had also suffered, and considerably, too. She
had to squint frequently when she cared to look off at a certain
distance. Her character was the only thing that had remained
unchanged.</p>

<p>At the end of half an hour&rsquo;s conversation, they came to an
understanding and accepted each other. She would have preferred a
Spaniard less lame, less of a stammerer, less bald, one with more
teeth, one of more rank and social standing, or <i>
categor&iacute;a</i>, as she called it. But this class of Spaniards
never came to ask her hand. She had heard, too, more than once that
&ldquo;opportunity is bald,&rdquo; and she honestly believed that Don
Tiburcio was that very opportunity, for on account of his dark days he
had prematurely lost his hair. What woman is not prudent at
thirty-two?</p>

<p>Don Tiburcio, for his part, felt a vague melancholy when he thought
of his honeymoon. He smiled with resignation especially when he called
the phantom of hunger to his aid. He had never had ambition or
pretensions. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb153" href=
"#pb153">153</a>]</span>His tastes were simple, his thoughts limited;
but his heart, untouched till then, had dreamed of a very different
divinity. In his youth when, tired by his day&rsquo;s labor, after a
frugal meal, he lay down on a poor bed, he dreamed of a smiling,
affectionate image. Afterward, when his sorrows and privations
increased, the years passed and his poetical dreams were not fulfilled,
he thought merely of a good woman, a willing hand, a worker, who might
afford him a small dowry, console him when tired from labor, and
quarrel with him from time to time. Yes, he was thinking of the
quarrels as a happiness! But when, obliged to wander from country to
country, in search no longer of a fortune, but of some commodity to
sustain his life for the remainder of his days; when, deluded by the
accounts of his countrymen who came from beyond the seas, he embarked
for the Philippines&mdash;then the vision of a housekeeper gave way to
an image of an arrogant <i>mestiza</i>, a beautiful native with large
black eyes, draped in silks and transparent garments, loaded with
diamonds and gold, offering him her love and her carriages.</p>

<p>He arrived in the Philippines and believed that he was about to
realize his dream, for the young women who, in silver-plated carriages,
frequented the Luneta and the Malecon, Manila&rsquo;s popular and
fashionable drives, looked at him with a certain curiosity. Later, when
this curiosity on their part had ceased, the <i>mestiza</i> disappeared
from his dreams, and with great labor he formed in his mind a picture
of a widow, but an agreeable widow. So it was that when he saw only
part of his dream taking on real form, he became sad. But he was
somewhat of a philosopher and said to himself: &ldquo;That was a dream,
but in the world one does not live in dreams.&rdquo; Thus he settled
all his doubts; she wasted a lot of rice powder on her cheeks. Pshaw!
When they were once married he would make her stop that easily enough;
she had many wrinkles in her face, but his coat had more bare spots and
patches; she was old, pretentious, and imperious, but hunger was more
imperious, and still more pretentious; and then, too, he had a sweet
disposition, and, who could tell?&mdash;love modifies character; she
spoke Spanish <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb154" href=
"#pb154">154</a>]</span>very badly, but he himself did not speak it
well; at least, the head of the Customs department had so notified him
in his discharge from his position, and besides, what did it matter?
What if she was old and ridiculous? He was lame, toothless and bald.
When some friend jested with him, he would respond: &ldquo;Give me
bread and call me a fool.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Don Tiburcio was what is vulgarly called a man who would not harm a
fly. He was modest and incapable of conceiving an evil thought. He
would have made a good missionary had he lived in olden times. His stay
in the country had not given him that conviction of his own
superiority, of his own worth, and of his high importance, which the
larger part of his countrymen acquire in a few weeks in the
Philippines. His heart had never been able to conceive hatred for
anybody or anything. He had not yet been able to find a revolutionist.
He only looked upon the people as unhappy beings whom it was fitting
for him to deprive of a little of their wealth in order to prevent
himself becoming even more unhappy than they. When they tried to make a
case against him for passing as a doctor without a proper license, he
did not resent it, he did not complain. He saw the justice of the case,
and only replied: &ldquo;But it is necessary to live!&rdquo;</p>

<p>So they were married and went to Santa A&ntilde;a to pass their
honeymoon. But on the night of the wedding Do&ntilde;a Victorina had a
bad attack of indigestion. Don Tiburcio gave thanks to God and showed
solicitude and care. On the second night, however, he conducted himself
like an honorable man, but on the day following, when he looked in the
mirror at his bare gums, he smiled with melancholy: he had grown ten
years older at least.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina, charmed with her husband, had a good set of
front teeth made for him, and had the best tailors in the city dress
and equip him. She ordered carriages and <i>calesas</i>, sent to
Batangas and Albay provinces for the finest spans of horses, and even
obliged him to make two entries in the coming horse races.</p>

<p>In the meantime, while she was transforming her husband, she did not
forget her own person. She laid aside the silk <i>saya</i> or Filipino
skirt and <i>pi&ntilde;a</i> cloth bodice, for <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb155" href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>a dress of European style.
She substituted false curls in front for the simple hair dress of the
Filipinos. Her dresses, which fitted her &ldquo;divinely bad,&rdquo;
disturbed the peace and tranquillity of the entire neighborhood.</p>

<p>The husband never went out of the house afoot&mdash;she did not want
people to see that he was lame. He always took her for drives through
the places most deserted, much to her pain, for she wanted to display
her husband on the drives most frequented by the public. But out of
respect for their honeymoon, she kept silent.</p>

<p>The last quarter of the honeymoon had just begun when he wanted to
stop her from using rice powder on her cheeks, saying to her that it
was false and not natural. Do&ntilde;a Victorina frowned and looked
squarely at his front set of teeth. He at once became silent, and she
learned his weakness.</p>

<p>She soon got the idea that she was to become a mother and made the
following announcement to all her friends: &ldquo;Next month, we, I and
de Espada&ntilde;a are going to the <i>Pe&ntilde;insula</i>.<a class=
"noteref" id="xd0e4068src" href="#xd0e4068">1</a> I don&rsquo;t want to
have my son born here and have them call him a
revolutionist.&rdquo;</p>

<p>She added a <i>de</i> to her husband&rsquo;s name. The <i>de</i> did
not cost anything and gave <i>categor&iacute;a</i> to the name. When
she signed herself, she wrote Victorina de los Reyes de de
Espada&ntilde;a. That <i>de</i> de Espada&ntilde;a was her mania.
Neither the lithographer who printed her cards, nor her husband, could
get the idea out of her head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I do not put more than one <i>de</i> in the name people
will think that I haven&rsquo;t it, fool!&rdquo; said she to her
husband.</p>

<p>She was talking continually about her preparations for the voyage to
Spain. She learned by memory the names of the points where the steamers
called, and it was a pleasure to hear her talk&mdash;&ldquo;I am going
to see the <i>sismus</i> of the Suez Canal. De Espada&ntilde;a thinks
that it is the most beautiful, and De Espada&ntilde;a has seen the
whole world.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I will probably never return to this
land of savages.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;I was not born to live here. Aden
or Port Said would be more suitable for me. I have always <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb156" href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>thought so since
I was a child.&rdquo; Do&ntilde;a Victorina, in her geography, divided
the world into two parts, the Philippines and Spain. In this she
differed from the lower class of people in Madrid for they divide it
into Spain and America, or Spain and China, America and China being
merely different names for the same country.</p>

<p>The husband knew that some of these things were barbarisms, but he
kept silent so that she would not mock him and twit him with his
stammering. She feigned to be whimsical in order to increase her
illusion that she was a mother, and she began to dress herself in
colors, adorn herself with flowers and ribbons, and to walk through the
Escolta in a wrapper. But oh! what an illusion! Three months passed and
the dream vanished. By this time, having no fear that her son would be
a revolutionist, she gave up the voyage. She consulted doctors,
mid-wives and old women, but all in vain. To the great displeasure of
Captain Tiago she made fun of San Pascual Bailon, as she did not care
to run to any saint. On account of this a friend of her <span class=
"corr" id="xd0e4099" title="Source: huband">husband</span> told
her:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Believe me, Se&ntilde;ora, you are the only <i lang="es">
espiritu fuerte</i> (strong-minded person) in this country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>She smiled without understanding what <i lang="es">espiritu
fuerte</i> meant, but, at night, when it was time to be sleeping, she
asked her husband about it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Daughter,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;the
e&mdash;espir&mdash;espiritu most fu-fuerte that I know&mdash;know
about is a&mdash;a&mdash;ammonia. My fr-fr-friend must have be-been
us-using a figure of rhetoric.&rdquo;</p>

<p>From that time on, she was always saying, whenever she could,
&ldquo;I am the only ammonia in this country, speaking rhetorically, as
Se&ntilde;or N. de N. who is from the <i>Pe&ntilde;insula</i> and who
has much <i>categor&iacute;a</i>, puts it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Whatever she said had to be done. She had come to dominate her
husband completely. On his part, he offered no great resistance, and
was converted into a little lap dog for her. If he incommoded her she
would not let him go out for a drive, and when she became really
infuriated, she would snatch out his false teeth and leave <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb157" href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>him a
horrible-looking man for one or more days, according to the
offense.</p>

<p>It occurred to her that her husband ought to be a Doctor of Medicine
and Surgery, and so she expressed herself to him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Daughter! Do you want them to arrest me?&rdquo; he said,
frightened.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be a fool. Let me arrange it!&rdquo; she replied.
&ldquo;You are not going to attend any one, but I want them to call you
a doctor and me a <i>doctora</i>, eh?&rdquo;</p>

<p>And on the following day Rodoreda, a prominent marble dealer in
Manila, received an order for the following engraving on black marble:
<span class="smallcaps">Dr. De Espada&ntilde;a, Specialist in All Kinds
of Diseases.</span></p>

<p>All of the servants had to give them their new titles, and, in
consequence of it all, she increased the number of her curls in front,
the layer of rice powder, the ribbons and laces, and looked with more
disdain than ever on the poor and less fortunate women of her country,
who had less <i>categor&iacute;a</i> than she. Each day she felt
herself more dignified and elevated, and, following along this road, in
less than a year she would think herself of divine origin.</p>

<p>These sublime thoughts, however, did not prevent her from growing
more ridiculous and older each day. Every time that Captain Tiago met
her in the street and remembered that he had once made love to her in
vain, he would go at once to the church and give a <i>peso</i> for a
mass as a thank offering for his good luck in not marrying her. In
spite of this, Captain Tiago highly respected her husband, on account
of his title of &ldquo;specialist in all kinds of diseases,&rdquo; and
he listened with close attention to the few phrases that he managed to
stutter out. In fact, it was on account of this title and the fact that
the doctor did not attend everybody, that the Captain chose him to
attend his daughter.</p>

<p>As to the young man Linares, it is a different story. When she was
making ready for her voyage to Spain, Do&ntilde;a Victorina thought of
having an administrator from the <i>Pe&ntilde;insula</i> to look after
her affairs, for she did not trust Filipinos. Her husband remembered a
nephew in <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb158" href=
"#pb158">158</a>]</span>Madrid who was studying to become a lawyer, and
who was considered the smartest one in his family. They wrote to him,
then, sending him in advance money for the passage, and, when the dream
was dispelled, the young man was already on his way.</p>

<p>These are the three persons who had just arrived.</p>

<p>While they were eating their breakfast, Father Salv&iacute; arrived,
and, as the husband and wife had already met the friar, they presented
him to the young Linares, with all his titles. The young man
blushed.</p>

<p>As was natural they spoke of Maria Clara. The young maiden was
resting and sleeping. They talked over the voyage. Do&ntilde;a
Victorina showed her verbosity by criticising the customs of the
provinces, the <i>nipa</i> houses, the bamboo bridges, without
forgetting to tell the curate about her friendship with the Commander
of the Army, the <i>Alcalde</i> so and so, Judge so and so of the
Supreme Court, and with the governor of the province, all persons of
<i>categor&iacute;a</i>, who had much consideration for her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you had come two days before, Dona Victorina,&rdquo;
replied Captain Tiago during a short pause, &ldquo;you would have met
His Excellency, the Governor General. He sat right there.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What? How&rsquo;s that? Was His Excellency here? And in your
house? A lie!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I tell you he sat right there. If you had come two days
before&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! What a shame that little Clara did not fall sick
before!&rdquo; exclaimed she, in real sorrow. And directing herself to
Linares: &ldquo;Do you hear, cousin? His Excellency was here! You see
De Espada&ntilde;a was right when he told you that we were not going to
the house of a miserable native. For you should know, Don Santiago,
that our cousin was a friend of all the Ministers in Madrid and all the
Dukes, and he dined in the house of Count del Campanario
(belfry).&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Duke de la Torre (tower), Victorina,&rdquo; said her husband,
correcting her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It amounts to the same thing. Do you think you can tell me
that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Would I find Father D&aacute;maso in town to-day?&rdquo;
interrupted <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb159" href=
"#pb159">159</a>]</span>Linares, turning to Father Salv&iacute;.
&ldquo;They have told me that he is near here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is, precisely, and will come here in a little
while,&rdquo; replied the curate.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How glad I am! I have a letter for him,&rdquo; exclaimed the
young man. &ldquo;And if it had not been for this happy chance which
brought me here, I would have come expressly to visit him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The happy chance&mdash;that is, Maria Clara&mdash;had, in the
meantime awakened.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;De Espada&ntilde;a!&rdquo; said Do&ntilde;a Victorina,
finishing her breakfast. &ldquo;Are we going to see little
Clara?&rdquo; And turning to Captain Tiago, &ldquo;For you only, Don
Santiago; for you alone! My husband does not treat anybody except
people of <i>categor&iacute;a</i>, and he even refuses some of them! My
husband is not like those about here&mdash;in Madrid he only visited
people of <i>categor&iacute;a</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They passed into the sick room.</p>

<p>The room was almost dark. The windows were shut for fear of a
draught, and the little light which illuminated the room came from the
two wax candles which were burning in front of an image of the Virgin
of Antipolo.</p>

<p>Her head wrapped up in a handkerchief, saturated in cologne water,
her body wrapped in wide folds of white sheets which outlined her
virginal form, the sick maiden lay on her bed of <i>kamakon</i><a
class="noteref" id="xd0e4210src" href="#xd0e4210">2</a> among <i>
jusi</i> and <i>pi&ntilde;a</i> curtains. Her hair, forming a frame
around her oval face, increased her transparent paleness, which was
animated only by her large eyes full of sadness. At her side were her
two friends and Andeng.</p>

<p>De Espada&ntilde;a felt of her pulse, examined her tongue, asked
some questions, and shaking his head seriously, said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Sh-sh-she is si-sick. But we-we-we can cu-cu-cure
her.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina looked with pride at those around her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;A li-lichen in mil-milk in the-the morning; syrup of marsh
marsh-mal-mallow, tw-o&mdash;two hounds&rsquo;&mdash;hounds&rsquo;
tongue pi-pills,&rdquo; ordered De Espada&ntilde;a. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb160" href="#pb160">160</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Take courage, little Clara,&rdquo; said Do&ntilde;a
Victorina, approaching her. &ldquo;We have come to cure you. I am going
to present our cousin to you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Linares was absorbed, contemplating those eloquent eyes which seemed
to be seeking some one, and he did not hear Do&ntilde;a Victorina call
him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Linares,&rdquo; said the curate, calling him out
of his ecstacy. &ldquo;Here comes Father D&aacute;maso.&rdquo;</p>

<p>In fact, Father D&aacute;maso was coming, pale and somewhat sad. On
leaving his bed, his first visit was to Maria Clara. He was no longer
the Father D&aacute;maso that he had been, so robust and talkative. He
now walked along in silence and with unsteady footsteps. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb161" href="#pb161">161</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e4068src" id="xd0e4068">1</a></span> A wrong pronunciation of the
Spanish Peninsula meaning Spain.</p>

<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e4210src" id="xd0e4210">2</a></span> A costly and rich wood like
ebony.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch25" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Schemes.</h2>

<p>Without paying attention to anybody, Father D&aacute;maso went
straight to the sick room and took hold of Maria&rsquo;s hand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Maria!&rdquo; said he, with indescribable tenderness, as
tears dropped from his eyes. &ldquo;Maria, my child, you are not going
to die!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria opened her eyes and looked at him with surprise.</p>

<p>None who knew the Franciscan suspected that he ever had such tender
thoughts. No one ever supposed that a heart existed under that gross
and rude aspect.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso could say no more and left the maiden, weeping
like a child. He went out through the room at the head of the stairs,
to give free vent to his grief, on Maria Clara&rsquo;s balcony under
her favorite vines.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How he loves his god-daughter!&rdquo; thought they all.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; witnessed the scene, immovable and silent,
lightly biting his lips.</p>

<p>When his grief was somewhat soothed, Father D&aacute;maso was
introduced by Do&ntilde;a Victorina to the young Linares, who
approached the friar with respect.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso gazed at him in silence from head to foot. He
took the letter which the young man handed to him and read it
apparently without understanding it, for he asked him:</p>

<p>&ldquo;And who are you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Alfonso Linares, the god-son of your brother-in-law,&rdquo;
stammered the young man.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso leaned back and examined the young man again.
His face brightened up and he rose to his feet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And so you are the god-son of little Charles!&rdquo; he
exclaimed. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb162" href=
"#pb162">162</a>]</span>&ldquo;Come here and let me embrace you. It was
some days ago that I received your letter. So it is you! I did not know
you&mdash;but that is easily explained, for you were not yet born when
I left the country. I never knew you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Father D&aacute;maso stretched out his robust arms to the young
man who blushed, either from shame or suffocation. Father D&aacute;maso
seemed to have completely forgotten his grief.</p>

<p>After the first moments of effusion had passed, and questions had
been asked about Carlicos, as he called little Charles, Father
D&aacute;maso asked:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well. What does Carlicos want me to do for you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I believe he says something in the letter,&rdquo; stammered
Linares again.</p>

<p>&ldquo;In the letter? Let us see. &rsquo;Tis so! And he wants me to
get you a job and a wife! Hm! Employment&mdash;employment: that is
easy. Do you know how to read and write?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have graduated in law from the Central
University.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Carambas!</i> So you are a pettifogger? Well, you
don&rsquo;t look it&mdash;you look more like a young gentleman. But so
much the better! But to find you a wife&mdash;hm! hm! a
wife.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father, I am not in a hurry about it,&rdquo; said Linares,
confused.</p>

<p>But Father D&aacute;maso began to walk from one end of the room to
the other, muttering: &ldquo;A wife! A wife!&rdquo;</p>

<p>His face by this time was no longer sad, nor was it cheerful. It
expressed the greatest seriousness and he seemed to be meditating.
Father Salv&iacute; surveyed the scene from a distance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I did not believe that it could give me such pain,&rdquo;
murmured Father D&aacute;maso in a mournful voice. &ldquo;But of two
evils the lesser.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And raising his voice and approaching Linares, he said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come here, my boy! We will speak with Santiago.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Linares turned pale and allowed himself to be led along by the
priest, who was deep in thought. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb163"
href="#pb163">163</a>]</span></p>

<p>Then it was Father Salv&iacute;&rsquo;s turn to walk up and down the
room and he did so, meditating, as was his custom.</p>

<p>A voice bidding him good morning stopped his monotonous tread. He
raised his head and his eyes met Lucas, who saluted him humbly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; asked the eyes of the curate.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father, I am the brother of the man who was killed on the day
of the <i>fiesta</i>,&rdquo; replied Lucas, in a tearful tone.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; stepped back.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what of it?&rdquo; he muttered, in an unintelligible
voice.</p>

<p>Lucas made an effort to weep, and dried his eyes with his
handkerchief.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father,&rdquo; said he, crying, &ldquo;I have been to
Crisostomo&rsquo;s house to ask him for indemnity. At first, he
received me with kicks, saying that he would not pay anything, since he
had run the risk of being killed through the fault of my dear,
unfortunate brother. Yesterday, I went to talk with him again, but he
had already left for Manila, leaving me for charity&rsquo;s sake five
hundred <i>pesos</i> for my poor brother&mdash;five hundred <i>
pesos</i>&mdash;ah! Father.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The curate listened to the first part of his story with surprise and
attention, but slowly there appeared on his lips a smile&mdash;a smile
of such contempt and sarcasm at the comedy that was being played, that
if Lucas had seen it he would have fled in all haste.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what do you want now?&rdquo; he asked, turning his back
to him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Alas! Father, for love of God tell me what I ought to do.
Father, you have always given good advice.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who has told you that? You do not live here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But the whole province knows you, Father!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; went up to him with his eyes full of anger and,
motioning to the street, said to the frightened Lucas:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go to your house and give thanks to Don Crisostomo that he
has not sent you to jail. Get away from here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Forgetting his r&ocirc;le, Lucas muttered:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, I thought&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb164" href="#pb164">164</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Out of here!&rdquo; cried Father Salv&iacute;, in a nervous
tone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I want to see Father D&aacute;maso.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father D&aacute;maso is busy. Out of here!&rdquo; ordered the
curate, in an imperative tone, again.</p>

<p>Lucas went down the stairs murmuring: &ldquo;He is another. How
poorly he pays! He who pays better....&rdquo;</p>

<p>The voice of the curate had reached the ears of all in the house,
even Father D&aacute;maso, Captain Tiago and Linares.</p>

<p>&ldquo;An insolent beggar who came to ask alms and doesn&rsquo;t
want to work,&rdquo; said Father Salv&iacute;, taking his hat and cane
and starting toward the convent. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb165"
href="#pb165">165</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch26" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Persecuted.</h2>

<p>By the dim light which the moon diffused through the thick branches
of the trees, a man wandered along the forest trails slowly and
cautiously. From time to time, as if to find out where he was, he
whistled a particular melody, to which another in the distance
responded with the same air. The man listened attentively, and
afterward proceeded in the direction of the distant sound.</p>

<p>Finally, passing through the thousand difficulties which a virgin
forest offers in the night time, he came to a small clearing. High
rocks, crowned with trees, surrounded the place, forming a sort of
ruined amphitheatre. Recently cut trees, with their charred trunks and
enormous rocks, which Nature had covered with her mantle of green
foliage, filled the middle of the open space.</p>

<p>Scarcely had the unknown man arrived, when another figure quickly
appeared from behind one of the large rocks, advanced and drew a
revolver.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he asked in Tagalog and, in an imperious
voice, as he cocked the hammer of his weapon.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is old Pablo among you?&rdquo; asked the first calmly,
without replying to the question or becoming intimidated.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you refer to the Captain? Yes, he is.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell him, then, that Elias is looking for him here,&rdquo;
said the man.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you Elias?&rdquo; asked the other with a certain respect,
and <span class="corr" id="xd0e4380" title="Source: aproaching">
approaching</span> him without lowering his revolver. &ldquo;Then
come.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias followed him.</p>

<p>They penetrated into a kind of cavern, which was hollowed out in the
depths of the earth. The guide, who knew the way, told the pilot when
he ought to get down, stoop or crawl. However, it was not long before
they came to a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb166" href=
"#pb166">166</a>]</span><i>sala</i> or room in the cave, miserably
illuminated by pitch torches, and occupied by twelve or fifteen armed
men. The faces of the men were dirty and their clothes ragged; some
were sitting down, others lying down, conversing among themselves in a
low tone. Leaning his elbows on a stone which served as a table and
contemplating thoughtfully the lamp, which was shedding very little
light for the amount of smoke it made, sat an old man. His countenance
was sad, and his head wrapped in a bloody rag. If we had not known that
the place was a cave of <i>tulisanes</i>, we would have said, on
reading the desperation on the face of the old man, that it was the
Tower of Hunger on the eve when Ugolino devoured his sons.</p>

<p>At the arrival of Elias and the guide, the men were about to arise,
but, at a signal from the guide, they were quieted and contented
themselves with examining the pilot, who was entirely unarmed.</p>

<p>The old man turned his head slowly and his eyes met the sturdy
figure of Elias. The latter, in turn, with his head uncovered, full of
sadness and interest, gazed upon the old man.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it you?&rdquo; asked the old man, his face brightening a
little as he recognized the youth.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How badly off you are!&rdquo; murmured Elias, in an
half-intelligible tone of voice.</p>

<p>The old man bowed in silence, made a sign to the men, who then arose
and left, not, however, without first directing glances at the pilot,
measuring his stature and muscles.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; said the old man to Elias as soon as they found
themselves alone. &ldquo;Six months ago, I gave you refuge in my house.
Then, it was I who sympathized with you; now, fortune has changed and
it is you who pity me. But sit down, and tell me how you came
here.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Some fifteen days ago they told me of your misfortune,&rdquo;
replied the young man slowly, and in a low voice, looking toward the
light. &ldquo;I at once set out on the road and I have been searching
for you from mountain to mountain. I have travelled over the greater
part of two provinces.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Rather than spill innocent blood,&rdquo; said Pablo, &ldquo;I
have <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb167" href=
"#pb167">167</a>]</span>had to flee. My enemies are afraid to show
themselves and shield themselves behind some unhappy fellows who have
never done me the slightest injury.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then, after a short pause, of which Elias took advantage to read the
thoughts in that melancholy countenance, he replied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have come to make a proposition. Having searched in vain
for some member of the family which has caused me my misfortunes, I
have decided to leave the province where I am living and to emigrate to
the north and live there among the heathen and independent tribes. Do
you want to leave this life and go with me? I will be your son, since
you have lost those whom you had, and I, who have no family, will take
you as my father.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man shook his head and said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;At my age, when a person makes a desperate resolution it is
because there is no other course open. A man who, like me has passed
his youth and the best years of his life working for his own future and
for the future of his sons, a man who has been submissive to all the
wishes of his superiors, who has discharged conscientiously all his
duties, suffered everything in order to live in peace and in
tranquillity; when such a man, whose blood has been chilled by Time,
renounces all his past and all his future, on the very edge of his
grave&mdash;when a man does this, it is because he has decided with
mature judgment that peace does not exist, and that there is no Supreme
Good. What use is there in living a few miserable days in a foreign
land? I had two sons, a daughter, a fireside, a fortune. I enjoyed
consideration and esteem. Now I am like a tree that has been stripped
of its branches; a wandering fugitive, hunted like a wild beast in the
forest, and all&mdash;why? Because a man dishonored my daughter,
because her brothers wanted to make that man account for his infamous
deed, and because that man is placed above all others with a title of
Minister of God. But despite it all, I, a father, I, dishonored in my
old age, pardoned the injury, for I was indulgent with the passions of
youth and the weakness of the flesh, and, as the evil was irreparable,
I wanted to save what still remained to me. But the criminal, afraid
that vengeance was near at hand, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb168"
href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>sought the destruction of my sons. What
did he do? You do not know? Do you know how they feigned that there had
been a robbery in the convent and how one of my sons figured among the
accused? The other son they could not include because he was away. Do
you know the tortures to which they were submitted? You know them
because they are like those in other towns. I saw my son hung by the
hair, I heard his cries, I heard him call me, and, coward that I was,
and, accustomed to peace, I was not brave enough to kill or be killed.
Do you know that the robbery was not proved, that it was seen that it
was a calumny, that the curate was transferred to another town and that
my son died from the result of his tortures? The other boy, who was
still left for me, was not a coward like his father. The executioner
was afraid that this son would take revenge for the death of his
brother and so, under pretense of his not having a <i>cedula</i>,<a
class="noteref" id="xd0e4425src" href="#xd0e4425">1</a> which for the
moment had been forgotten, he was imprisoned by the Civil Guard,
maltreated, irritated and provoked by force and injuries until he was
driven to suicide. And I have survived after such a disgrace. But, if I
had not the courage of a father to defend his sons, I have left a heart
to take vengeance and I shall be revenged! The discontented are uniting
under my command, my enemies increase my camp, and on that day when I
consider myself strong enough I will go down into the plain and
extinguish in fire both my vengeance and my own existence. And that day
will come or there is no God!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man rose to his feet deeply agitated. With his eyes
sparkling like fire and, in a hollow voice, he added, tearing his long
hair:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Curses upon me, curses upon me for having restrained the
avenging hand of my sons. I have assassinated them! Had I allowed them
to kill the criminal; had I had less faith in the justice of God and of
men, I would now have my sons; perhaps they would have been fugitives,
but I would have them and they would not have died in torture. I was
not born to be a father! For that reason, I <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb169" href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>haven&rsquo;t them with me now!
Curses upon me for not having learned, with all my years, in what age
we live! But in blood and fire, and in my own death, I will know how to
take vengeance for them!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The unfortunate father, in the paroxysm of his grief, had taken off
the bandage from his head, opening up a wound which he had on the
forehead and from which the blood oozed out.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I respect your grief,&rdquo; replied Elias, &ldquo;and I
understand your desire for vengeance. I, too, am like you, but, for
fear of harming an innocent one, I prefer to forget my
misfortunes.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You can forget them because you are young, and because you
have not lost your son, have not lost your last hope! But, I assure
you, I will not harm an innocent person. Do you see that wound? I
allowed myself to receive that in order not to kill a poor <i>
cuaderillero</i> who was fulfilling his duty.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But see!&rdquo; said Elias, after a moment&rsquo;s silence.
&ldquo;See what frightful destruction you will bring upon our
unfortunate country. If you seek revenge by your own hand your enemies
will retaliate, not against you, not against those who are armed, but
against the people, who are always accused, and then how many more
injustices!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let the people learn to defend themselves. Let each learn to
defend himself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You know that that is impossible. Se&ntilde;or, I have known
you in other times when you were happy, then you gave me wise advice.
Will you permit me...?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man crossed his arms and seemed to meditate upon what he was
going to say.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; continued Elias, measuring his words
well, &ldquo;I have had the fortune to be of service to a young man,
rich, of good heart, noble, and a lover of his country&rsquo;s welfare.
They say that this young man has friends in Madrid. I do not know it,
but I can positively assure you that he is a friend of the Governor
General. What do you say if we make him the bearer of the
people&rsquo;s complaints, if we can interest him in the cause of the
unhappy?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man shook his head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you say that he is a rich man? The rich think of <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb170" href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>nothing but
to increase their riches. Pride and pomp blind them, and, since they
are generally well off, especially if they have powerful friends, none
of them ever troubles himself about the unfortunates. I know it all,
for I was once rich myself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But the man of whom I am speaking does not seem to be like
the others. He is a son who would not allow the memory of his father to
be dishonored. He is a young man who thinks about the
future&mdash;thinks of a good future for his sons, for he may in a
short time have a family of his own.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then he is a man who is going to be happy. Our cause is not a
cause for happy men.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But it is a cause for men of good hearts.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That may be,&rdquo; replied the old man sitting down.
&ldquo;Suppose that he consented to carry our complaints to the
Governor General. Suppose that he finds in the court those who will
argue for us. Do you think we will get justice?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us try it before resorting to bloody measures,&rdquo;
replied Elias. &ldquo;It must seem strange to you that I, another
unfortunate, young, robust&mdash;that I should propose to you old and
weak&mdash;peaceful measures. But it is because I have seen so many
miseries caused by us similar to those caused by tyrants. The unarmed
is the one who suffers.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if we do not accomplish anything?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Something will be accomplished, believe me! Not all who
govern are unjust. And if we do not accomplish anything, if our voice
is not listened to, if the man turns a deaf ear to the grief of his
fellow men, then we will put ourselves under your orders.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man, full of enthusiasm, embraced the young man.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I accept your proposition, Elias. I know that you will keep
your word. You come to me and I will help you take vengeance for your
father. You will help me to take vengeance for my sons&mdash;my sons
who were like you!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;In the meantime, Se&ntilde;or, avoid all violent
measures.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You can expound the complaints of the people. You certainly
know them. When will we know the answer?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Within four days send a man to meet me on the beach at San
Diego and I will tell him what the person <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb171" href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>in whom I have hope says. If he
accepts, we will get justice, and if he does not accept, I will be the
first to fall in the fight which we will begin.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Elias will not die. Elias will be chief, when Captain Pablo
falls, satisfied in his revenge,&rdquo; said the old man. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb172" href="#pb172">172</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e4425src" id="xd0e4425">1</a></span> Certificate of identification
required of all Filipinos under Spanish domination.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch27" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Cock Fight.</h2>

<p>In order to keep the Sabbath holy in the Philippines the people
generally go to the cock fight, just as in Spain they go to the bull
fight. Cock fighting, a passion introduced into the country and
exploited for a century, is one of the vices of the people, more deeply
rooted than the opium vice among the Chinese. The poor go there to risk
what little they have, desirous of making money without working; the
rich go there to amuse themselves, using the money which they have left
over from their feasts and thanksgiving masses. The cock is educated
with great care, with more care, perhaps, than the son who is to
succeed his father in the cock-pit. The Government permits it and
almost recommends it, for it decrees that the fight shall only be held
in the public plazas and on holidays from after high mass till
dark&mdash;eight hours.</p>

<p>The San Diego cock-pit does not differ from others which are found
in all the towns. It consists of three parts: The first, or entrance,
is a large rectangle, some twenty meters in length and fourteen in
breadth. On one side is the door, generally guarded by a woman who
collects the entrance fee. From the contribution which each one makes
the Government receives a part, some hundred thousands of <i>pesos</i>
each year. They say that with this money, which gives license to the
vice, magnificent schools are raised, bridges and roadways constructed,
and rewards offered for the encouragement of agriculture and commerce.
Blessed be the vice which produces such good results! In this first
precinct are the <span class="corr" id="xd0e4500" title="Source:
venders">vendors</span> of betel nut, cigars and tobacco, delicacies
and refreshments. There the small boys, who accompany their fathers or
uncles, are carefully initiated into the secrets of life.</p>

<p>This precinct communicates with another of slightly <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb173" href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>larger
dimensions, a sort of vestibule, where the people gather before the
fight. There, one sees most of the cocks, tied by a cord to a bone
driven into the ground like a nail; there, are the bettors, the lovers
of the sport, the man skilled in fastening the gaffs or spurs to the
cock&rsquo;s legs; there, bargains are made, the situation discussed,
money borrowed, and people curse, swear and laugh boisterously. In one
place, some one is caressing his game cock, passing his hand over his
brilliant plumage; in another, a man examines and counts the number of
scales on the rooster&rsquo;s legs, for that, they say, is a sign of
valor. The battles of the heroes are related. There, too, you will see
many a disappointed owner, with a sour face carrying out by the legs, a
dead rooster, stripped of its plumage&mdash;the animal which was a
favorite for months, petted, cared for day and night, and on which
flattering hopes had been founded: now, nothing more than a dead fowl,
to be sold for a <i>peseta</i>, stewed in ginger and eaten that very
night. <i>Sic transit gloria mundi!</i> The loser returns to his
fire-side, where an anxious wife and ragged children await him, without
his little capital, without his rooster. From all that gilded dream,
from all the care of months, from daybreak to sunset, from all those
labors and fatigue, from all that, results a <i>peseta</i>, the ashes
left from so much smoke.</p>

<p>In this <i>foyer</i>, or vestibule, the most ignorant discuss the
coming contests; the most trifling, examine conscientiously the bird,
weigh it, contemplate it, extend its wings, feel of its muscles. Some
of the people are very well dressed, and are followed and surrounded by
the backers of their game cocks. Others, dirty, with the seal of vice
imprinted on their squalid faces, anxiously follow the movements of the
rich and watch their betting, for the pocketbook can be emptied and the
passion still be unsatisfied. There you see no face that is not
animated, no indolent Filipino; none apathetic, none silent. All is
movement, passion, eagerness.</p>

<p>From this place, one passes into the arena or <i>rueda</i>, as it is
called. The floor, inclosed by bamboos, is generally elevated higher
than the floor of the other two parts of the cock-pit. Running up from
the floor and almost touching <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb174"
href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>the roof, are rows of seats for the
spectators or gamblers&mdash;they come to be the same. During the
combat these seats are filled with men and children who cry, shout,
perspire, quarrel, and blaspheme. Fortunately, scarcely any women visit
the cock-pit. In the <i>rueda</i> are the prominent men, the rich
class, the bettors, the bookmaker, and the referee. The cocks fight on
the ground, which is beaten down perfectly smooth, and there Destiny
distributes to families laughter or tears, feasts or hunger.</p>

<p>As we enter, we can see the <i>gobernadorcillo</i>, Captain Pablo,
Captain Basilio, and Lucas, the man with the scar on his face who was
so disconsolate over the death of his brother.</p>

<p>Captain Basilio approaches one of those present and asks him:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know what cock Captain Tiago is going to
bring?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not know, Se&ntilde;or. This morning two arrived, one of
them the <i>l&aacute;sak</i> (black sprinkled with white) which whipped
the Consul&rsquo;s <i>talisain</i> (red, sprinkled with
black).&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you think that my <i>bulik</i> (black, red and white), can
beat him?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, I surely do. I&rsquo;ll stake my house and shirt on
him!<span class="corr" id="xd0e4555" title="Source:
&rsquo;">&rdquo;</span></p>

<p>At that moment Captain Tiago arrived. He was dressed, like the big
gamblers, in a <i>camisa</i> of Canton linen, woolen pantaloons, and a
panama-straw hat. Behind him came two servants, carrying the <i>
l&aacute;sak</i> and a white cock of colossal proportions.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Sinang tells me that Maria Clara is improving
steadily,&rdquo; said Captain Basilio.</p>

<p>&ldquo;She no longer has any fever, but she is still
weak.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you lose last night?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A little. I heard that you won.... I am going to see if I can
win back my money.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you want to fight your <i>l&aacute;sak</i>?&rdquo; asked
Captain Basilio, looking at the rooster.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That depends on whether there is any money up.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How much will you stake?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t play less than two thousand.&rdquo; <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb175" href="#pb175">175</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you seen my <i>bulik</i>?&rdquo; asked Captain Basilio,
and then called a man to bring a small rooster.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago examined it, and after weighing it in his hand, and
examining its scales, he handed it back.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you put up?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Whatever you say.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Two thousand five hundred?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Make it three?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Three.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let her go!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The circle of curious people and gamblers learn that the two
celebrated cocks are to be fought. Both the roosters have made a
history for themselves; both have a reputation. All want to see and
examine the two celebrities. Opinions are expressed, and prophecies
made.</p>

<p>In the meantime the voices grow louder, the confusion is augmented,
the <i>rueda</i> fills up and a rush is made for the seats. The <i>
soltadores</i> bring two cocks to the ring for a preliminary contest.
One of the roosters is <i>blanco</i> (white), the other <i>rojo</i>
(red). They are already spurred, but the gaffs are not yet unsheathed.
Cries of &ldquo;<i>Al blanco! al blanco!</i>&rdquo; are heard. Some one
else shouts, &ldquo;<i>Al rojo!</i>&rdquo; The <i>blanco</i> is the
favorite.</p>

<p>Civil Guards circulate among the crowd. They are not wearing the
uniform of their body, nor do they wear the costume of the native.
Pantaloons of <i>guingon</i> with a red fringe, a blue-spotted blouse
shirt, and the <i>cuartel</i> cap&mdash;you have here their disguise,
in harmony with their deportment; watching and betting, making
disturbance and talking of maintaining the peace.</p>

<p>While the shouting is going on and men are jingling money in their
hands; while the people are going down in their pockets for the last
<i>cuarto</i>, or, if that is wanting, pledging their word, promising
to sell their <i>carabao</i>, or their next harvest, two young men,
apparently brothers, follow the gamblers with envious eyes. They
approach, timidly murmur words which nobody catches, and each time
become more and more melancholy, and look at each other with disgust
and indignation. Lucas observes them, smiles malignantly, rattles some
silver <i>pesos</i>, passes near to the two brothers, and looks toward
the <i>rueda</i>, shouting: <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb176" href=
"#pb176">176</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;I am betting fifty, fifty against twenty on the
white!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The two brothers <span class="corr" id="xd0e4657" title="Source:
exchange">exchanged</span> looks.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I told you,&rdquo; murmured the older, &ldquo;not to bet all
your money. If you had obeyed me, we would have it now to put on the
red.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The younger one approached Lucas timidly and touched him on the
arm.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it you?&rdquo; exclaimed the latter turning around and
feigning surprise. &ldquo;Does your brother accept my proposition or
did you come to bet?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How can we bet when we have lost all?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then you accept?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He does not want to! If you could lend us something: you have
already said that you knew us....&rdquo;</p>

<p>Lucas scratched his head, pulled down his <i>camisa</i> and
replied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know you. You are Tarsilo and Bruno, both young and
strong. I know that your brave father died from the result of the
hundred lashes which the soldiers gave him. I know that you do not
think of avenging him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You need not meddle in our history,&rdquo; interrupted
Tarsilo, the older. &ldquo;That is a disgrace. If we did not have a
sister, we would have been hanged long ago.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Hanged? They only hang cowards, or some one who has no money
or protection. Certainly the mountains are near.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A hundred against twenty on the <i>blanco</i>,&rdquo; cried
one as he passed the group.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Loan us four <i>pesos</i> ... three ... two,&rdquo; begged
the younger brother. &ldquo;Presently I will return it to you doubled.
The fight is going to begin.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Lucas scratched his head again.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tst! This money is not mine. Don Crisostomo has given it to
me for those who want to serve him. But I see that you are not like
your father. He was really courageous.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And, saying this, he went away from them, although not far.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us accept. What does it matter?&rdquo; said Bruno to his
brother. &ldquo;It amounts to the same thing whether you <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb177" href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>are hanged or
shot down. We poor serve for nothing else.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are right, but think of our sister.&rdquo;</p>

<p>In the meantime, the circle around the ring had been dispersed; the
fight was going to commence. The voices began to die away, and the two
<i>soltadores</i> and the skilled gaff fitter, were alone in the middle
of the <i>rueda</i>. At a signal from the referee, the sheaths were
removed from the razor-like knives on the cocks&rsquo; legs, and the
fine blades glistened in a menacing way.</p>

<p>The two brothers, gloomy and silent, approached the ring and,
resting their faces against the bamboo railing, watched the
preparations. A man approached them and said in their ears:
&ldquo;Hundred to ten on the <i>blanco</i>!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Tarsilo looked at him stupidly. Bruno elbowed his brother, who
responded with a grunt.</p>

<p>The <i>soltadores</i> handle the roosters with masterly skill,
taking great care not to wound them. A deep silence reigns throughout
the pit. You would think that those present, with the exception of the
two <i>soltadores</i>, were horrible wax figures. The two roosters are
brought close together and allowed to pick at each other and thus
become irritated. Then they allow them to look at each other, so that
the poor little birds may know who has plucked out their feathers, and
with whom they should fight. The feathers around the neck stand up;
they look at each other fixedly; flashes of wrath escape from their
little, round eyes. The moment has come. The birds are placed on the
ground in the ring at a certain distance from each other.</p>

<p>The cocks advance slowly. Their little steps are heard upon the hard
floor. Nobody speaks; nobody breathes. Lowering and raising their
heads, as if measuring each other with a look, the two roosters mutter
sounds, perhaps of threat or contempt. They have perceived the shining
blades. Danger animates them, and they turn toward each other decided,
but they stop at a short distance, and, as they look at each other,
they bow their heads and again raise their feathers on end. With their
natural valor, they rush at each other impetuously; they <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb178" href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>strike beak
against beak; breast against breast, blade against blade, and wing
against wing. The blows have been stopped with dexterity and skill, and
only a few feathers have fallen. They again measure each other!
Suddenly the <i>blanco</i> turns and, raising himself in the air,
flashes his death-dealing knife, but the <i>rojo</i> has already
doubled up his legs, ducked his head and the <i>blanco</i> has only cut
the air. Then, on touching the ground, to avoid being wounded from
behind, he turns quickly and faces the other. The red attacks him with
fury, but he defends himself with coolness. Not without reason was he
the favorite of the crowd. All, trembling and anxious, follow the
movements of the battle, now this one and now that one giving an
involuntary shout. The ground is being covered with red and white
feathers, tinged with blood. But the duel does not go to the one who
draws first blood. The Filipino here follows the laws laid down by the
Government, which say that the cock which is killed or flees loses the
fight. The blood now wets the ground; the blows are repeated, but the
victory is still undecided. Finally, making a supreme effort, the <i>
blanco</i> throws himself forward to give a last blow; he drives his
knife into the wing of the <i>rojo</i> and buries it among the bones.
But the <i>blanco</i> has been wounded in the breast, and both, weak
from loss of blood, and panting, fastened together, remain immovable
until the <i>blanco</i> falls, bleeds through his neck, kicks violently
and is in the agony of death. The <i>rojo</i>, pinned by his wing, is
held to the other&rsquo;s side; and little by little he doubles up his
legs and slowly closes his eyes.</p>

<p>Then the referee, in accordance with the regulations prescribed by
the Government, declares the <i>rojo</i> the winner. A wild and
prolonged outcry greets the decision, an outcry which is heard
throughout the town. He, who, from afar, hears the cry, understands
that the <i>dejado</i> has beaten the favorite, for otherwise the
outcry would not have lasted so long. So it happens among nations: when
a small nation succeeds in gaining a victory over a greater one, the
song and story of it last through centuries.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you see?&rdquo; said Bruno, with indignation, to his <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb179" href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>brother,
&ldquo;if you had taken my advice to-day, we would have had one hundred
<i>pesos</i>. On your account we are without a <i>
cuarto</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Tarsilo did not reply, but, with wide-open eyes, looked around him
as if in search of some one.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There he is talking with Pedro,&rdquo; added Bruno. &ldquo;He
is giving him money&mdash;what a lot of money!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Tarsilo remained silent and thoughtful. With the arm of his <i>
camisa</i>, he wiped away the sweat which formed in drops on his
forehead.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Brother,&rdquo; said Bruno, &ldquo;I am decided, even if you
are not. The <i>l&aacute;sak</i> ought to win and we ought not to lose
the opportunity. I want to bet on the next fight. What does it matter?
Thus, we will avenge our father.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; said Tarsilo to him, and looked him in the eyes.
Both were pale. &ldquo;I am with you. You are right. We will avenge our
father.&rdquo;</p>

<p>He stopped, however, and again wiped away the perspiration.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why do you stop?&rdquo; asked Bruno impatiently.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know what fight is the next one? Is it worth the
trouble?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What! Haven&rsquo;t you heard? Captain Tiago&rsquo;s <i>
l&aacute;sak</i> against Captain Basilio&rsquo;s <i>bulik</i>.
According to the run of luck, the <i>l&aacute;sak</i> ought to
win.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! The <i>l&aacute;sak</i>. I would bet ... but let us make
sure first.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Bruno made a gesture of impatience, but followed his brother. The
latter looked the rooster over carefully, thought about it, debated
with himself and asked a few questions. The unfortunate fellow was in
doubt. Bruno was nervous and looked at him angrily.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you see that wide scale which he has there
near the spur? Do you see those feet? What more do you want? Look at
those legs. Stretch out his wings. And that broken scale on top of that
wide one, and that double one?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Tarsilo did not hear him, he kept on examining the cock. The rattle
of silver coins reached his ears.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us see the <i>bulik</i> now,&rdquo; said he, in a choking
voice. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb180" href=
"#pb180">180</a>]</span></p>

<p>Bruno stamped the ground with his feet, grated his teeth, but obeyed
his brother.</p>

<p>They approached the other group. There they were arming the cock,
they were selecting gaffs for him, and the expert, in fitting them to
the rooster&rsquo;s legs, was preparing a piece of red silk. He waxed
it and rubbed it over his knee a number of times.</p>

<p>Tarsilo gazed at the bird with a sombre air. It seemed that he was
not looking at the cock, but at something in the future. He passed his
hand over his forehead.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo; he asked his brother, his voice
scarcely perceptible.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I? Long ago. Without having to see them.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is our poor sister&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bah! Didn&rsquo;t they tell you that the leader is Don
Crisostomo? Have you not seen him walking with the Governor General?
What danger will we run?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if we are killed?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What does it matter? Our father died from being whipped to
death.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are right.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Both brothers sought Lucas in the crowd.</p>

<p>As soon as they caught sight of him, Tarsilo stopped.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No! Let us go away from here! We are going to lose,&rdquo; he
exclaimed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go if you wish. I am going to accept.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bruno!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Unfortunately, a man approached them and said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you betting? I am backing the <i>bulik</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The two brothers did not reply.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you odds.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How much?&rdquo; asked Bruno.</p>

<p>The man counted out four <i>peso</i> pieces. Bruno looked at him,
breathless.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have two hundred. Fifty to forty.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Bruno promptly. &ldquo;Make it ...&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All right! fifty to thirty.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Double it if you wish!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well! The <i>bulik</i> is my winning color and I have just
won. Hundred against sixty!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a go! Wait till I go and get my money.&rdquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb181" href="#pb181">181</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;But I will be the stake-holder,&rdquo; said the other, in
whom the manner of Bruno inspired little confidence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all the same to me!&rdquo; responded the latter,
trusting in the strength of his fists.</p>

<p><a id="xd0e4893"></a>And, turning to his brother, he said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go away, if you wish; I&rsquo;m going to stay.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then Tarsilo reflected. He loved his brother and the game. He could
not leave him alone, and he murmured. &ldquo;Let it be so!&rdquo;</p>

<p>They approached Lucas. The latter saw them coming and smiled.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Eh! there!&rdquo; said Tarsilo.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How much do you give?&rdquo; asked the two brothers.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have already told you. If you want to find some others to
help us surprise the <i>cuartel</i>, I will give you thirty <i>
pesos</i> apiece, and ten <i>pesos</i> for each companion you get. If
all comes out well, each will receive one hundred <i>pesos</i> and you
two, double that amount. Don Crisostomo is rich.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Accepted,&rdquo; exclaimed Bruno. &ldquo;Hand over the
money.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I knew well that you were brave, like your father. Come!
Don&rsquo;t let them hear us or they will kill us,&rdquo; said Lucas,
pointing to the Civil Guards.</p>

<p>And taking them into a corner, he told them, as he counted out the
money to them:</p>

<p>&ldquo;To-morrow Don Crisostomo will arrive and bring arms. Day
after to-morrow, about eight o&rsquo;clock at night, come to the
cemetery. I will tell you about the final arrangements. You have time
to find some other companions.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They took leave of each other. Now the two brothers seemed to have
changed their r&ocirc;les. Tarsilo was calm; Bruno, pale. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb182" href="#pb182">182</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch28" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Two Se&ntilde;oras.</h2>

<p>While Captain Tiago was fighting his <i>l&aacute;sak</i> against the
<i>bulik</i>, Do&ntilde;a Victorina took a walk through the town, with
the intention of seeing the condition of the indolent natives, and of
their houses and fields. She had dressed as elegantly as she could,
putting all her ribbons and flowers on her silk gown, in order to
impress the provincials, and make them see how great a distance was
between them and her sacred person. Giving her arm to her lame husband,
she fluttered through the streets of the town, among the stupefied and
wondering inhabitants. Cousin Linares had remained in the house.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What ugly houses these natives have,&rdquo; began Do&ntilde;a
Victorina, making a grimace. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know how they can
live there: one must be a native to do it. They meet us and don&rsquo;t
uncover their heads! Hit them over the head as the curates and <i>
tenientes</i> of the <i>Guardia Civil</i> do when they don&rsquo;t take
off their hats. Teach them manners.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if they hit me?&rdquo; asked Dr. de Espada&ntilde;a.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you a man?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bu&mdash;bu&mdash;but, I am
la&mdash;la&mdash;lame.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina was becoming bad-humored. The streets were not
paved, and the train of her gown was covered with dust. Besides, they
met many young women, who, on passing her, cast down their eyes and did
not admire her lavish dress as they should have done. Sinang&rsquo;s
coachman, who was driving her and her cousin in an elegant carriage,
had the impudence to call out <i>tabi</i><a class="noteref" id=
"xd0e4963src" href="#xd0e4963">1</a> to them in such a warning voice
that she had to get out of the way, and was only able to exclaim,
&ldquo;Look at that brute of a coachman! I am going to tell his master
that he should educate his servants better!&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb183" href="#pb183">183</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us go back to the house,&rdquo; she ordered her
husband.</p>

<p>He, fearing that there was going to be a storm, turned on his heels
and obeyed the command.</p>

<p>They met the <i>alferez</i> on the way back and greeted him. He
increased the discontent of Do&ntilde;a Victorina, for he not only
failed to compliment her on her dress, but surveyed it almost with a
mocking manner.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You ought not to extend your hand to a simple <i>
alferez</i>,&rdquo; said she to her husband as soon as they were some
distance away. &ldquo;He scarcely touches his helmet, and you take off
your hat. You don&rsquo;t know how to maintain your rank.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is ch&mdash;ch&mdash;chief here!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what does that matter to us? Are we, perchance,
natives?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; replied he, not wishing to quarrel.</p>

<p>They passed by the officer&rsquo;s house. Do&ntilde;a Consolacion
was in the window, as usual, dressed in her flannel outfit and smoking
her cigar. As the house was rather low, they could see each other as
they passed, and Do&ntilde;a Victorina could distinguish her very well.
The Muse of the <i>Guardia Civil</i> examined her with tranquillity
from head to foot, and, afterward, sticking out her lower lip, spit,
turning her face to the other side. That put an end to Do&ntilde;a
Victorina&rsquo;s patience, and, leaving her husband without any
support, she squared herself in front of the <i>alfereza</i>, trembling
with rage, and unable to speak. Do&ntilde;a Consolacion turned her head
slowly, looked her over again, and then spit again, but with still
greater disdain.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you, Do&ntilde;a?&rdquo; said the <i>
alfereza</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Can you tell me, Se&ntilde;ora, why you look at me so? Are
you envious?&rdquo; Do&ntilde;a Victorina finally succeeded in
saying.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I envious of you?&rdquo; said the Medusa with scorn.
&ldquo;O, yes! I envy those curls.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come, wife!&rdquo; said the doctor.
&ldquo;Do&mdash;don&rsquo;t take no&mdash;no&mdash;notice of
her!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let me give this shameless common person a lesson!&rdquo;
replied the woman, giving her husband a push. He nearly fell to the
ground. Turning to Do&ntilde;a Consolacion, she continued:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Look how you treat me! Don&rsquo;t think that I am a
provincial, or a soldiers&rsquo; <i>querida</i>! In my house in Manila
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb184" href=
"#pb184">184</a>]</span><i>alferezas</i> never are allowed to come in.
They wait at the door.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh-oh! Most Excellent Se&ntilde;ora! <i>Alferezas</i>
don&rsquo;t enter, but invalids like that out there. Ha, ha,
ha!&rdquo;</p>

<p>If it hadn&rsquo;t been for all the paint on her face, one could
have seen Do&ntilde;a Victorina blush. She wanted to throw herself upon
her enemy, but the sentry stopped her. In the meantime, the street was
filling up with curious people.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Listen! I lower myself talking with you. People of <i>
categor&iacute;a</i> ... Do you want my clothes to wash? I will pay you
well. Do you think that I don&rsquo;t know that you are a
washerwoman?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion became furious. The reference to her being a
washerwoman wounded her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you think that we do not know what you are? Get out! My
husband has already told me. Se&ntilde;ora, I, at least, have not
belonged to more than one man, but you? One must be pretty hard up to
take the leavings.&rdquo;</p>

<p>This shot struck Do&ntilde;a Victorina square in the breast. She
rolled up her sleeves, clenched her fists, and, gnashing her teeth,
began:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come down here, you nasty old thing, that I may smash your
filthy mouth.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Medusa disappeared quickly from the window, but was soon seen
coming down the stairs on a run, swinging her husband&rsquo;s whip.</p>

<p>Don Tiburcio interposed, pleading with them, but they would have
come to blows if the <i>alferez</i> had not arrived.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, se&ntilde;oras!... Don Tiburcio!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Teach your woman better; buy her better clothes. If you
haven&rsquo;t the money, rob the people. You have your soldiers for
that!&rdquo; shouted Do&ntilde;a Victorina.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;ora,&rdquo; said the <i>alferez</i> furiously.
&ldquo;Thank yourself that I don&rsquo;t forget that you are a woman;
for if you were not, I would kick you to pieces, with all your curls
and ribbons.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&mdash;se&mdash;se&ntilde;or <i>
al&mdash;alferez</i>!&rdquo; said Don Tiburcio.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Go ahead! Kill us! You don&rsquo;t wear big enough trousers,
you quack.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And so the battle waged: words, gestures, cries, insults, and
injuries. They brought out all the nasty things they <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb185" href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>could think of,
all four speaking at the same time, and, saying so many things and
bringing to light so many truths, that we will not relate here all that
was said. The people who had gathered around to satisfy their
curiosity, if they understood all the remarks, must have enjoyed
themselves not a little. They were all waiting to see them come to
blows. Unfortunately for the spectators, the curate came along and
pacified them.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;oras! se&ntilde;oras! What a shame. Se&ntilde;or
<i>alferez</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What are you meddling in these matters for, you hypocrite,
you Carlist?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Tiburcio, take away your wife! Se&ntilde;ora, hold your
tongue!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell that to those robbers of the poor!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Finally, the dictionary of epithets was exhausted. The review of the
disgraces of each couple was ended, and little by little they were
separated, threatening and insulting each other. Father Salv&iacute;
kept going from one side to the other, adding life to the scene.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This very day we will go to Manila and we will present
ourselves to the Governor General,&rdquo; said Do&ntilde;a Victorina,
in fury to her husband. &ldquo;You are not a man. It is a shame that
you spend money for trousers.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;B&mdash;b&mdash;but, wife, and the <i lang="es">Guardia
Civil</i>? I&mdash;I&mdash;am lame.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You must challenge him to a duel with pistol or sword or,
or&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Do&ntilde;a Victorina looked at his false teeth.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Daughter, I never have used&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina did not let him finish. With a sublime
movement she jerked out his false teeth in the middle of the street,
and throwing them to the ground stepped on them. He, half crying, and
she sputtering away, arrived at the house. At that time, Linares was
talking with Maria Clara, Sinang, and Victoria, and, as he knew nothing
about the quarrel, the sudden arrival of his cousins gave him a shock.
Maria Clara was lying on a sofa among pillows and blankets, and was not
a little surprised at the doctor&rsquo;s new <span class="corr" id=
"xd0e5092" title="Source: physiogomy">physiognomy</span>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Cousin,&rdquo; said Do&ntilde;a Victorina, &ldquo;you have
got to challenge the <i>alferez</i> immediately to a duel,
or&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb186" href=
"#pb186">186</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;And why? what for?&rdquo; asked Linares, surprised.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You challenge him right off, or I will tell them all who you
are.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, Do&ntilde;a Victorina!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The three young women looked at one another.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>alferez</i> has insulted us. The old witch came down
with her whip, and that thing there allowed it all. A man!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Pshaw!&rdquo; said Sinang. &ldquo;They have been fighting and
we haven&rsquo;t seen it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>alferez</i> has broken the doctor&rsquo;s
teeth,&rdquo; added Victoria.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This very day we are going to Manila. You stay here to
challenge him to a duel, and, if you don&rsquo;t, I&rsquo;ll tell Don
Santiago that all that you have told him is a lie. I will tell
him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, Do&ntilde;a Victorina! Do&ntilde;a Victorina!&rdquo;
interrupted Linares, pale and going closer to her. &ldquo;You keep
quiet. Don&rsquo;t make me call to mind&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;and he
added in a low voice&mdash;&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be imprudent, especially
just now.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Just at that time, when this was going on, Captain Tiago arrived
home from the cock-pit. He was downhearted. He had lost his <i>
l&aacute;sak</i>.</p>

<p>But Do&ntilde;a Victorina did not give him much time to sigh. In a
few words, and with many insults, she related to him what had passed,
she, of course, trying to put herself in a good light.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Linares is going to challenge him. Do you hear? If he
don&rsquo;t, I won&rsquo;t let him marry your daughter. Don&rsquo;t you
permit it. If he has no courage, he does not merit Clarita.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then you are going to marry this gentleman?&rdquo; asked
Sinang, with her jolly eyes full of tears. &ldquo;I knew that you were
discreet, but I did not think you so fickle.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara, pale as wax, raising herself half up, looked at her
father with frightened eyes, and then at Do&ntilde;a Victorina and
Linares. The latter turned red in the face, Captain Tiago looked down,
and the se&ntilde;ora added:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Clarita, bear it in mind, and never marry a man who does not
wear trousers. You expose yourself to insults like a dog, if you
do.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb187" href=
"#pb187">187</a>]</span></p>

<p>But the young maiden did not reply and said to her friends:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take me to my room, for I cannot go alone.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They helped her to her feet, and, leaning her marble-like head on
pretty Sinang&rsquo;s shoulder, and, with the arms of her friend around
her waist, she went to her bedroom.</p>

<p>That night the doctor and his wife collected their things together,
submitted their account to Captain Tiago&mdash;which amounted to
several thousand <i>pesos</i>&mdash;and very early on the following
day, left for Manila in the Captain&rsquo;s carriage. To timid Linares
they intrusted the r&ocirc;le of the avenger. <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb188" href="#pb188">188</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e4963src" id="xd0e4963">1</a></span> Warning cry of a coachman,
meaning &ldquo;turn.&rdquo;</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch29" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Enigma.</h2>

<p>As Lucas had announced, Ibarra arrived the next day. His first visit
was to the family of Captain Tiago, with the object of seeing Maria
Clara and telling her that His Most Illustrious Greatness had already
reconciled him with the Church. He brought a letter of recommendation
to the curate, written by the hand of the Archbishop himself. Aunt
Isabel was not a little delighted over it, for she liked the young man
and did not look favorably upon the marriage of her niece with Linares.
Captain Tiago was not at home.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; said the aunt in her half-Castellano
language. &ldquo;Maria, Don Crisostomo is again in the grace of God.
The Archbishop has dis-excommunicated him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>But the young man could not advance. His smile froze on his lips,
and words fled from his mind. Linares was standing next to Maria Clara
on the balcony, interweaving nosegays with the flowers and leaves on
the climbing plants. On the floor, were scattered roses and <i>
sampagas</i>. Maria Clara was leaning back on a sofa, pale, pensive,
her look sad, playing with her ivory fan. But the fan was not as white
as her poor fingers.</p>

<p>At the presence of Ibarra, Linares turned pale and Maria
Clara&rsquo;s cheeks were tinged with carmine. She tried to rise, but
her strength failing her, she cast her eyes upon the floor, and let
fall her fan.</p>

<p>An embarrassing silence reigned for several seconds. Finally, Ibarra
was able to advance, and tremblingly murmured:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have just arrived and have hastened to see you.... I find
that you are better than I thought.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara seemed to have turned dumb. She could <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb189" href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>not pronounce a
single word, and continued to keep her eyes on the floor.</p>

<p>Ibarra surveyed Linares with a look which the modest young man bore
with considerable haughtiness.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, I see that my arrival was not expected,&rdquo; he said
slowly. &ldquo;Maria, pardon me for not having announced my coming.
Some other day I will be able to explain to you my conduct.&rdquo;</p>

<p>These words were accompanied with a look at Linares. The maiden
raised her eyes to Ibarra, those beautiful eyes, full of purity and
melancholy, so supplicating and sweet that Ibarra stopped confused.</p>

<p>&ldquo;May I come to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You know that on my part you are always welcome,&rdquo;
replied she, scarcely able to pronounce the words.</p>

<p>Ibarra walked away, apparently tranquil; but a tempest raged in his
mind, and his heart was chilled. What he had just seen and felt was
incomprehensible. What was it? Doubt, apathy or treason?</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh, woman!&rdquo; he murmured.</p>

<p>He arrived, without noticing it, at the place where the school house
was being constructed. The work was well along. &Ntilde;or Juan, with
his yard stick and plumb-line, was going to and fro among the numerous
workmen. On seeing the young man approach, he ran to meet him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Crisostomo,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you have arrived at
last. We were all expecting you. Just see how the walls are rising.
They are already a meter and ten centimeters high. Within two days,
they will be as high as a man. I have not allowed them to use anything
but the best of wood. Do you want to look at the cellar?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The workmen saluted him respectfully.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Here is the system of drainage which I have taken the liberty
to add,&rdquo; said &Ntilde;or Juan. &ldquo;These underground canals
lead to a cesspool about thirty feet off. It will serve to fertilize
the garden. This was not in the plans. Do you object to it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Quite on the contrary, I approve of it and I congratulate you
on your idea. You are a true architect. From whom did you learn the
profession?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;From myself, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; replied the modest old man.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb190" href="#pb190">190</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;O, yes! Before I forget it: let the scrupulous people know
(for some may fear to speak to me) that I am no longer excommunicated.
The Archbishop invited me to dine with him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Pshaw! se&ntilde;or! We don&rsquo;t take any notice of
excommunications. We are all excommunicated. Dather D&aacute;maso is
himself; however, he goes on, as fat as ever.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I feel sure about it. A year ago he gave the coadjutor a blow
with his cane, and the coadjutor is as much a priest as he. Who takes
any notice of excommunications, se&ntilde;or?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra caught sight of Elias among the workmen. He saluted him like
the others, but with a look that gave Ibarra to understand that he
wanted to speak with him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;&Ntilde;or Juan,&rdquo; said Ibarra, &ldquo;will you bring me
a list of the workmen?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&Ntilde;or Juan disappeared and Ibarra approached Elias, who was
alone, raising a large stone and loading it in a cart.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you are able, se&ntilde;or, to grant me some hours of
conversation, come this afternoon to the shore of the lake and embark
in my <i>banca</i>, for I want to talk with you about some serious
matters,&rdquo; said Elias. Ibarra gave a nod of assent and went
away.</p>

<p>&Ntilde;or Juan brought the list, but Ibarra read it in vain. The
name of Elias was not on it. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb191" href=
"#pb191">191</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch30" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Voice of the Persecuted.</h2>

<p>Before the sun went down, Ibarra put his foot into Elias&rsquo;s <i>
banca</i> on the shore of the lake. He seemed displeased about
something, as though he had been opposed or contradicted.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Pardon me, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; said Elias on seeing him.
&ldquo;Pardon me for having ventured to make this appointment with you.
I would like to speak with you freely, and here we have no witnesses.
We can return within an hour.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are mistaken, friend Elias,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, trying
to smile. &ldquo;You will have to take me to that town over there,
where you see that belfry. Fate obliges me to go there.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Fate?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes; on my way here, I met the <i>alferez</i>. He insisted
upon accompanying me. I thought about you, and knew that he would
recognize you, and, in order to get rid of him, I told him that I was
going to that town. Now I will have to remain there all day to-morrow,
for the man whom I am going to see will not look for me till to-morrow
afternoon.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am obliged to you for your thoughtfulness, but you might
have simply told him to accompany you,&rdquo; replied Elias with
naturalness.</p>

<p>&ldquo;How&rsquo;s that? And what about you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He would never have recognized me. The only time that he ever
saw me, I don&rsquo;t believe that he thought to take down a
description of me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am in hard luck!&rdquo; sighed Ibarra, thinking of Maria
Clara. &ldquo;What have you to say to me?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias looked around him. They were far from the shore. The sun had
already sunk below the horizon, and, as the twilight in these latitudes
is very short, the darkness was <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb192"
href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>falling over the earth, and the disk of
the full moon was already shining.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; replied Elias, in a grave voice,
&ldquo;I am the spokesman of many unfortunate people.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Unfortunate people. What do you mean?&rdquo;</p>

<p>In a few words, Elias referred to the conversation which he had had
with the chief of the <i>tulisanes</i>, but omitted saying anything
about the doubts which the chief entertained, or the threats. Ibarra
listened attentively, and, when Elias concluded his story, a long
silence reigned. Ibarra was the first to break the spell.</p>

<p>&ldquo;So that they desire&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Radical reforms in the armed forces, in the religious
matters, and in the administration of justice. That is to say, they ask
for paternal care on the part of the Government.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Reforms? In what sense?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;For example: more respect for human dignity; more security
for the individual; less power in the hands of the forces already
armed; fewer privileges for that body which easily abuses
them.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Elias,&rdquo; replied the young man, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
know who you are, but I believe that you are not an ordinary man. You
think and work differently from the others. You will understand me if I
say to you that, even if it is true that the present state of affairs
is defective, there will be a worse state if there is a change. I could
arrange to get the assistance of my friends in Madrid, by <i>paying
them</i>. I could speak to the Governor General, but all of that would
accomplish nothing. He has not enough power to introduce reforms, nor
would I ever take a step in that direction, for I know very well that,
if it is true that these religious corporations have their defects,
they are now necessities. They are what you might call a necessary
evil.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias raised his head and looked astonished.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you believe, se&ntilde;or, in necessary evils?&rdquo; he
asked, his voice slightly trembling. &ldquo;Do you believe that in
order to do good it is necessary to do evil?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No. I look upon it as a violent remedy which we have to make
use of to cure an illness. To illustrate further, the country is an
organism which is suffering from a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb193"
href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>chronic illness, and, in order to cure it,
the Government finds itself compelled to use medicines, hard and
violent, if you wish, but useful and necessary.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is a bad doctor, se&ntilde;or, who seeks to cure the
symptoms and suppress them without trying to find the origin of the
illness, or knowing it, fears to attack it. The <i>Guardia Civil</i>
has no other end than this: the suppression of crime by terror and
force. This end it neither fulfills nor carries out except in chance
instances. And you have to take into account that society can be severe
with individuals only after she has furnished all means necessary for
their perfect morality. In our country, since there is no society,
since the people and the Government do not form a unity, the latter
ought to be indulgent, not only because indulgence is necessary, but
because the individual, neglected and abandoned by Government, has less
self responsibility than if he had been enlightened. Besides, following
out your comparison, the medicine applied to the evils of the country
is so much of a destroyer that its effect is only felt on the sane
parts of the organism. These it weakens and injures. Would it not be
more reasonable to fortify and strengthen the infirm organism and
minimize a little the violence of the medicine?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To weaken the <i>Guardia Civil</i> would be to put the
security of the towns in danger.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The security of the towns!&rdquo; exclaimed Elias with
bitterness. &ldquo;The towns have had the <i>Guardia Civil</i> for
nearly fifteen years and what is the result? We still have <i>
tulisanes</i>, we still hear of them sacking towns, and they still make
their attacks on people on the roads. Robberies continue and the
robbers are not punished. Crime exists and the real criminal goes free,
but not so with the peaceful inhabitants of the town. Ask any honorable
citizen if he looks upon this institution as a good, as a protection by
the Government, or as an imposition, a despotism whose excesses do more
harm than the violence of the criminals. Communication between people
is paralyzed, for they fear to be maltreated for trifling causes. More
importance is attached to the formality of the law than to the basal
principle of it,&mdash;the first symptom of incapacity in government.
The heads of the organization consider it their <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb194" href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>first duty to make people
salute them, either of their own will or by force, even in the darkness
of night. In this, their inferior officers imitate them and maltreat
and fleece the poor countrymen. There is no such thing as sacredness of
the fireside. There is no security for the individual. What have the
people accomplished by overcoming their wrath and by waiting for
justice at the hands of others? Ah! se&ntilde;or, if you call that
preserving the order&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I agree with you that there are evils,&rdquo; replied Ibarra.
&ldquo;But we have to accept those evils for the good which accompanies
them. This institution may be imperfect, but believe me, by the terror
which it inspires, it prevents the number of criminals from
increasing.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You might better say that by that terror it increases the
number of criminals,&rdquo; said Elias, correcting him. &ldquo;Before
this body was created, almost all the evildoers, with the exception of
a very few, were criminals because of their hunger. They pillaged and
robbed in order to live. That famine once passed over and hunger once
satisfied, the roads were again free from criminals. It was sufficient
to have the poor but valiant <i>cuaderilleros</i> chase them, with
their imperfect arms&mdash;that body of men so often calumniated by
those who have written upon our country, those men who have three legal
rights, to do their duty, to fight and to die. And for all that, a jest
as recompense. Now there are <i>tulisanes</i> who will be <i>
tulisanes</i> all their lives. A crime inhumanly punished, resistance
against the excesses of the power which inflicts such punishment, and
fear that other atrocities may be inflicted&mdash;these make them
forever members of that society who are bound by oath to kill and die<a
class="noteref" id="xd0e5322src" href="#xd0e5322">1</a>. The terrorism
of the <i>Guardia Civil</i> impressed upon them closes forever the
doors to repentance. And as a <i>tulisan</i> fights and defends himself
in the mountains better than a soldier, whom he scorns, the result is
that we are incapable of abating the evil which we have created. Call
to mind what the prudent Governor General de la Torre did. The amnesty
which he granted to these unhappy people has proved that in these
mountains the hearts of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb195" href=
"#pb195">195</a>]</span>men still beat, and only await pardon.
Terrorism is useful only when the people are enslaved, when the
mountains have no caverns, when the governing power can station a
sentry behind every tree, and when the slave has in his body nothing
but a stomach. But when the desperado who fights for his life feels the
strong arm of that power, then his heart beats and his being fills with
passion. Can terrorism put out the fire which&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It confuses me, Elias, to hear you talk so. I would believe
that you were right if I did not have my own convictions. But note this
point&mdash;and do not be offended, for I do not include you&mdash;I
look upon you as an exception&mdash;consider who those are who ask for
this reform. Almost all are criminals or people who are in the way of
becoming such.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Criminals or future criminals; but why are they so? Because
their peace has been disturbed, their happiness taken away from them,
their dearest affections wounded, and, after asking protection from
Justice, they have been convinced that they can secure it only by their
own hands, by their own efforts. But you are mistaken, se&ntilde;or, if
you believe that only criminals ask for it. Go from town to town, from
house to house. Listen to the secret sighings of the family and you
will be convinced that the evils which the <i>Guardia Civil</i> causes
are equal to if not greater than those which it corrects. Would you
conclude then that all the citizens are criminals? Then, why defend
them from the others? Why not destroy them?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;There is some flaw in your reasoning which escapes me now. In
Spain, the Mother Country, this body lends and has lent very useful
services.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not doubt it. Perhaps there it is better organized; the
personnel more select. Perhaps, too, Spain needs such a body, but the
Philippines do not. Our customs, our mode of living, which are always
cited when any one wants to deny us a right, are totally forgotten when
some one wants to impose something on us. And tell me, se&ntilde;or,
why have not other nations adopted this institution, other nations
which resemble Spain more than do the Philippines? Is it due to the
efforts of such an institution that other nations have fewer robberies
of the railways, fewer <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb196" href=
"#pb196">196</a>]</span>riots, fewer assassinations, and less
hand-to-hand fighting in their great capitals?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra bowed his head in meditation. Afterward he raised it and
replied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;That question, my friend, needs serious study. If my
investigations tell me that these complaints are well founded, I will
write to my friends in Madrid, since we have no deputies to represent
us. In the meantime, believe me, the Government needs a body like the
<i>Guardia Civil</i>, which has unlimited power, in order to make the
people respect its authority and the laws imposed.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That would be all right, se&ntilde;or, if the Government were
at war with the country; but, for the good of the Government, we ought
not to make the people believe that they are in opposition to the law.
Furthermore, if that were the case, if we preferred force to prestige,
we ought to look well to whom we give this unlimited force or power,
this authority. Such great power in the hands of men, and ignorant men
at that, men full of passion, without moral education, without tested
honor&mdash;such a thing is a weapon in the hands of a maniac in a
multitude of unarmed people. I grant and I will agree with you that the
Government needs this weapon, but let it choose that weapon well; let
it choose the most worthy men to bear it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias was speaking with enthusiasm and with fervor. His eyes
glistened and his voice vibrated. Then followed a solemn pause. The <i>
banca</i>, no longer propelled by the paddle, floated tranquilly on the
waves. The moon was shining majestically from a sapphire sky. Some
lights were glimmering on the shore.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what more do they ask?&rdquo; said Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Reforms in the priesthood,&rdquo; responded Elias, in a
discouraged and sad tone of voice. &ldquo;The unfortunates ask more
protection against&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Against the religious orders?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Against their oppressors, se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have the Filipinos forgotten what they owe to these orders?
Have they forgotten the immense debt of gratitude they owe to them for
having saved them from error and given them the Faith? What they owe to
them for protection against the civil power? Here is one of the <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb197" href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>evils which
result from not teaching the history of the country in our
schools.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias, surprised, could scarcely give credit to what he heard.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; he replied in a grave voice. &ldquo;You
accuse the people of ingratitude: permit me, one of those who suffer,
to defend the people. Favors, in order to be recognized as such, must
be done by persons with disinterested motives. Let us consider in a
general way the mission of the orders, of Christian charity, that
threadbare subject. Let us lay history aside. Let us not ask what Spain
did with the Jews, who gave all Europe a Book, a religion and a God!
Let us not ask what Spain has done with the Arabic people who gave her
culture, who were tolerant in religion and who reawakened in her a pure
national love, fallen into lethargy and almost <span class="corr" id=
"xd0e5376" title="Source: detroyed">destroyed</span> by the domination
of Romans and Goths. Let us omit all that. Do you say that these orders
have given us the Faith and have saved us from error? Do you call those
outward ceremonies, faith? Do you call that commerce in straps and
scapularies religion? Do you call those miracles and stories which we
hear every day truth? Is that the law of Jesus Christ? To teach such a
faith as this it was not at all necessary that a God should allow
himself to be crucified. Superstition existed long before the friars
came here; it was only necessary to perfect it and to raise the price
of the traffic. Will you tell me that although our religion of to-day
is imperfect, it is better than that which we had before? I will agree
with you in that and grant it; but we have purchased it at too high a
price if we have had to renounce our nationality and independence for
it; when for it, we have given to the priests our best towns, our
fields, and still give them our little savings in order to buy
religious objects. A foreign industry has been introduced among us; we
pay well for it, and are in peace. If you speak of the protection they
have afforded us against the civil governors of the provinces, I would
reply that through them we fall under the power of these governors.
However, I recognize that a true Faith, and a true love for humanity
guided the first missionaries who came to our shores. I recognize the
debt of gratitude which is due those noble hearts. I know that <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb198" href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>in those
days Spain abounded in heroes of all kinds, as well in religion as in
politics, as well in civil life as in military. But because the
forefathers were virtuous, should we consent to the abuses practiced by
their degenerate descendants? Because a great good has been done for
us, are we guilty if we prevent ourselves from being harmed? The
country does not ask for abolition of the priesthood; it only asks for
reforms which new circumstances and new needs require.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I love our country as you love it, Elias. I understand to
some extent what you desire. I have heard with attention what you have
said; yet, despite all of that, my friend, I believe we are looking
upon it with a little prejudice. Here, less than in other things, I see
the necessity of reforms.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Can it be possible, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; said Elias,
discouraged and stretching out his hands. &ldquo;Do you not see the
necessity of reforms, you whose family&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! I forget myself and I forget my own injuries for the sake
of the security of the Philippines, for the sake of the interests of
Spain,&rdquo; interrupted Ibarra eagerly. &ldquo;To preserve the
Philippines it is necessary that the friars continue as they are, and
in union with Spain lies the welfare of our country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra had ceased speaking, but Elias continued to listen. His face
was sad, his eyes had lost their brilliancy.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The missionaries conquered the country, it is true,&rdquo; he
said. &ldquo;Do you think that Spain will be able to keep the
Philippines through the instrumentality of the friars?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, only through the friars. This is the belief held by all
who have written on the Philippines.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaimed Elias, discouraged and throwing his
paddle <span class="corr" id="xd0e5395" title="Source: ino">into</span>
the bottom of the <i>banca</i>. &ldquo;I did not think that you had so
poor a conception of the Government and of the country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra replied: &ldquo;I love our country, not only because it is
the duty of all men to love the country to which they owe their being,
not only because my father taught me so; but also because my mother was
a native, an Indian, and because all my most beautiful memories live in
these <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb199" href=
"#pb199">199</a>]</span>islands. I love it too, because I owe it my
happiness and will continue to do so.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And I, I love it because I owe to it my misfortunes,&rdquo;
said Elias.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, my friend, I know that you are suffering, that you are
unfortunate, and that this makes you see a dark future and influences
your way of thinking. For this reason, I make allowance for your
complaints. If I were able to appreciate the motives, if I had known
part of that past&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My misfortunes have another source. If I had known that they
would have been of usefulness, I would have related them, for aside
from that, I make no secret of them. They are well enough known by
many.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Perhaps knowing them would rectify my opinions. You know I do
not rely much upon theories; facts are better guides.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias remained pensive for some moments.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If that is the case, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; he replied,
&ldquo;I will relate briefly the history of my misfortunes.&rdquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb200" href="#pb200">200</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e5322src" id="xd0e5322">1</a></span> Author here shows difficulty
in establishing American sovereignty over islands by military
forces.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch31" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Elias&rsquo;s Family.</h2>

<p>&ldquo;Some sixty years ago my grandfather lived in Manila and kept
books for a Spanish merchant. My grandfather was then very young, but
was married and had a son. One night, without any one knowing the
cause, the store-house was burned. The fire spread to the store and
from the store to many others. The losses were very heavy. Search was
made for the incendiary, and the merchant accused my grandfather. In
vain he protested and, as he was poor and could not pay celebrated
lawyers, he was condemned to be whipped publicly and to be led through
the streets of Manila. It was not a great while ago that this infamous
punishment was still in use here. It was a thousand times worse than
death itself. My grandfather, abandoned by everybody except his wife,
was tied to a horse and, followed by a cruel multitude, was whipped on
every corner, in the sight of men, his brothers, and in the vicinity of
the numerous temples of the God of Peace. When the unfortunate man,
disgraced forever, had satisfied the punishment by his blood, his
tortures and his cries, they untied him from the horse, for he had
become unconscious. Would to God he had died! As a refined cruelty,
they gave him liberty. His wife, embarrassed with a child at the time,
begged in vain from door to door for work or alms that she might care
for her sick husband and the poor son. But who would have confidence in
the wife of an infamous man guilty of arson? The wife, then, had to
give herself up to prostitution.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra started from his seat.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh! do not be disturbed! Prostitution was not the only
dishonor which she and her husband suffered. Honor and shame no longer
existed for them. The husband cured his wounds, and, with his wife and
son, hid in the mountains of this province. Here the woman brought
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb201" href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>forth
a still-born child, deformed and full of disease. In the mountains,
they lived for several months, miserable, isolated, hated and fleeing
from all. Unable to endure the misery, less valorous than his wife, and
growing desperate at seeing her ill and deprived of all aid and
comfort, my grandfather hanged himself. The body rotted in the sight of
the son, who was now scarcely able to take care of his sick mother. The
bad odor of the rotting corpse disclosed it to Justice. My grandmother
was accused and condemned for not having given notice. The death of her
husband was attributed to her and people believed it. For, what is a
wife of a wretch not capable of doing after having prostituted herself?
If she took oath, they said she perjured herself; if she wept, they
said that it was false; and if she invoked God, they said she
blasphemed. However, they had some consideration for her and waited for
her to give birth to a child before whipping her. You know that the
friars spread the belief that the only way to deal with the natives is
with the whip. Read what Father Gaspar de San Augustin says.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Thus condemned, the woman cursed the day when she would give
birth to the child, and this not only prolonged her punishment, but
violated her maternal sentiments. The woman delivered the child, and
unfortunately the child was born robust. Two months later the sentence
of whipping which had been imposed upon her was carried out, to the
great satisfaction of the people, who thought that in this way they
were fulfilling their duty. No longer able to be at peace in these
mountains she fled with her two sons to a neighboring province and
there they lived like wild beasts: hating and hated. The older boy,
remembering his happy infancy and its contrast with such great misery,
became a <i>tulisan</i> as soon as he had sufficient strength. Before
long the bloody name of <i>B&aacute;lat</i> extended from province to
province; it was the terror of the towns and the people, for he took
his revenge with fire and blood. The younger boy, who had received from
Nature a good heart, resigned himself to his lot at his mother&rsquo;s
side. They lived on what the forests afforded them; they dressed in the
rags that travellers threw away. The mother had lost her good name, she
was now <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb202" href=
"#pb202">202</a>]</span>known only by such titles as the
&lsquo;criminal,&rsquo; the &lsquo;prostitute,&rsquo; and the
&lsquo;horse-whipped woman.&rsquo; The younger brother was known only
as the son of his mother, because he had such a pleasant disposition
that they did not believe him to be the son of the incendiary. Finally
the famous B&aacute;lat fell one day into the hands of Justice. Society
had taught him no good, but he was asked to account for his crimes. One
morning as the younger boy was looking for his mother, who had gone to
gather mushrooms from the forest, and had not yet returned, he found
her lying on the ground by the roadside, under a cotton-tree. Her face
was turned toward the sky, her eyes were torn from their sockets, and
her rigid fingers were buried in the blood-stained earth. It occurred
to the young man to raise his eyes and follow the direction in which
his mother had been looking, and there from a limb of a tree he saw a
basket, and in that basket the bloody head of his brother.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; exclaimed Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is what my father must have exclaimed,&rdquo; continued
Elias, coldly. &ldquo;The men had cut the highwayman into quarters and
buried him in a trunk of a tree. But the limbs were saved, and were
hung up in different towns. If you go some time from Calamba to Santo
Tom&aacute;s you will still find the rotting leg of my uncle hanging
from a <i>lomboy</i> tree. Nature has cursed the tree and it neither
grows nor gives fruit. They did the same thing with the other members
of his body, but the head, the head, as the best part of the man and
that part which can be most easily recognized, they hung before the
mother&rsquo;s cabin.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra bowed his head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The young man fled like one that is accursed,&rdquo;
continued Elias. &ldquo;He fled from town to town, through mountains
and valleys, and when at last he thought he was not recognized by any
one, he began to work in the store of a rich man in the province of
Tayabas. His activity, his agreeable disposition, won for him the
esteem of those who did not know his past life. By working and saving
he managed to make a little capital, and, as the misery had passed
away, and, as he was young, he thought that he would be happy. His good
appearance, his youth, and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb203" href=
"#pb203">203</a>]</span>his quite <span class="corr" id="xd0e5454"
title="Source: unincumbered">unencumbered</span> position won for him
the love of a girl in the town, but he did not dare to ask for her
hand, for fear that she might learn of his past. But love became too
strong and both erred. The man, in order to save the honor of the
woman, risked all; he asked her to marry him, the papers were looked up
and all was disclosed. The girl&rsquo;s father was rich and began to
prosecute the man. The latter, however, did not try to defend himself,
admitted it all and was sent to jail. The young woman gave birth to a
boy and a girl. They were brought up in seclusion and made to believe
that their father was dead. This was not difficult, for while the
children were still young they saw their mother die, and they thought
little about investigating their genealogy. As our grandfather was very
rich, our youth was happy. My sister and I were educated together, we
loved each other as only twins can when they know no other love. While
very young, I went to study in the Jesuit College, and my sister, in
order that we might not be entirely separated, went to the Concordia
boarding school. Our short education having been ended, for we only
wished to be farmers, we returned to the town to take possession of the
inheritance which was left us by our grandfather. We lived happily for
some time; the future smiled on us; we had many servants; our fields
bore good crops; and my sister was on the eve of being married to a
young man who loved her and to whom she was well suited. On account of
some pecuniary questions, and, because my character was then haughty, I
lost the good will of a distant relative, and he threw in my face one
day my dark birth and my infamous ancestry. I thought it a calumny and
demanded satisfaction. The tomb in which so much grief was sleeping was
opened again and the truth came out. I was confounded. To make the
misfortune greater, we had had for some years an old servant who had
always suffered all my caprices without ever leaving us. He contented
himself by weeping and crying while the other servants jested with him.
I do not know how my relative found it out; the fact is that he
summoned this old man before the court and made him tell the truth. The
old servant was my father, who had stuck fast to his dear children and
whom I had maltreated <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb204" href=
"#pb204">204</a>]</span>many times. Our happiness disappeared: I
renounced our fortune; my sister lost her lover; and with our father we
abandoned the town to go to some other point. The thought of having
contributed to our disgrace and misfortune, cut short the life of the
old man, from whose lips was learned all the sorrowful past. My sister
and I were left alone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;She wept a great deal, but, amid such grief as they piled
upon us, she could not forget her love. Without complaining, without
saying a word, she saw her old lover marry another girl, and I saw her
a little later gradually become ill, without being able to console her.
One day she disappeared. In vain I searched for her everywhere; in vain
I asked for her for six months. Afterward I learned that during the
time while I was searching for her, one day when the water had risen in
the lake, there had been found on the beach at Calamba the body of a
girl, either drowned or assassinated. She had, they say, a knife
piercing her breast. The authorities of Calamba published the fact in
the neighboring towns. Nobody presented himself to claim the body; no
young woman had disappeared. From the description which they gave me
afterward, from the dress, the rings, the beauty of her face and her
very abundant hair, I recognized her as my poor sister. From that time,
I have been wandering from province to province. My fame and history
are in the mouths of many people; they attribute all sorts of deeds to
me; at times they calumniate me; but I take no notice of men and
continue on my way. I have here briefly related my history, and that of
a judgment at the hands of mankind.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias became silent and continued rowing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I believe that you are not wrong,&rdquo; murmured Ibarra, in
a low voice, &ldquo;when you say that justice ought to procure the
welfare of the people by lifting up the criminals and by raising the
standard of their morality. Only ... that is impossible&mdash;a Utopia.
And then, where is the money for so many new employees to come
from?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what are the priests for, the priests who proclaim peace
and charity as their mission? Is it more meritorious for a priest to
wet the head of a child, to give <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb205"
href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>it salt to eat, than to awaken in the
darkened conscience of a criminal that spark, given by God to every
man, that he may seek to do good? Is it more human to accompany a
criminal to the gallows than to accompany him through the difficult
path which leads from vice to virtue? Are not spies, executioners and
<i>Guardias Civiles</i> paid? The latter institution, besides being an
evil, also costs money.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My friend, neither you nor I, although we wish it, can
accomplish it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Alone we are nothing, it is true. Take up the cause of the
people, unite them, listen to their voices, give others an example to
follow, give them the idea of what is called a fatherland, a <i>
patria</i>!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What the people ask for is impossible. We must
wait.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To wait, to wait, is equivalent to suffering!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I should ask it, they would laugh at me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if the people should sustain you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Never! I would never be the one to lead the multitude and
accomplish by force what the Government does not believe is opportune.
No! If I ever saw the multitude armed for such a purpose, I would put
myself on the side of the Government. And I would fight it, for in such
a mob I would not see my country. I wish for its welfare: that is the
reason that I am erecting the school-house. I look for it through means
of instruction, education and progress. Without light there is no
road.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nor without fighting is there liberty,&rdquo; replied
Elias.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not care for that kind of liberty.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Without liberty there is no light,&rdquo; replied the pilot
with enthusiasm. &ldquo;You say that you know very little about our
country. I believe it. You do not see the fight that is impending. You
do not see the cloud on the horizon. The combat begins in the sphere of
ideas, and then descends to the arena to tinge it with blood. I hear
the voice of God. Woe to them who resist it. History has not been
written for them.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias was transformed. As he stood up, his head uncovered, his manly
face illumined by the moonlight, there was something extraordinary
about him. He shook his long hair and continued: <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb206" href="#pb206">206</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you not see how all is awakening? Sleep has lasted for
centuries, but one day a thunderbolt will fall and new life will be
called forth. New tendencies are animating the spirits, and these
tendencies to-day separated, will be united some day, and will be
guided by God. God has not failed other peoples, nor will he fail ours.
Their cause is liberty.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A solemn silence followed these words. In the meantime, the <i>
banca</i> carried along imperceptibly by the waves, neared the shore.
Elias was the first to break the silence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What have I to say to those who have sent me?&rdquo; he
asked, changing the tone of his voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have already told you that I greatly deplore their
condition, but for them to wait, since evils are not cured by other
evils. In our misfortune, we are all at fault.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias did not insist further. He bowed his head, continued rowing
and, bringing the <i>banca</i> up to the shore, took leave of Ibarra
saying:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I thank you, Se&ntilde;or, for your condescension. For your
own interests I ask you in the future to forget me, and never to
recognize me in whatever place you may meet me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And saying this, he turned his <i>banca</i> and rowed in the
direction of a dense thicket on the beach. He seemed to observe only
the millions of diamonds which his paddle lifted and which fell back
into the lake, where they soon disappeared in the mystery of the blue
waves.</p>

<p>Finally, he arrived at the place toward which he had been rowing. A
man came out of the thicket and approached him:</p>

<p>&ldquo;What shall I tell the captain?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell him that Elias, if he does not die before, will fulfill
his word,&rdquo; he replied gloomily.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then when will you meet us?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;When your captain thinks that the hour of danger has
come.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All right. Good-bye!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If I do not die before,&rdquo; murmured Elias. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb207" href="#pb207">207</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch32" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Changes.</h2>

<p>The modest Linares was serious and very uneasy. He had just received
a letter from Do&ntilde;a Victorina which, translated from the most
illiterate Spanish, and omitting its many errors in spelling and
punctuation, was as follows:</p>

<div class="blockquote">
<p>&ldquo;<span class="smallcaps">Esteemed Cousin</span>:&mdash;Within
three days I want to know from you if you have killed the <i>
alferez</i> or he you. I don&rsquo;t want another day to pass without
this animal being punished. If this length of time passes and still you
have not challenged him, I will tell Don Santiago that you never were
secretary and that you never joked with Canovas or with General
Martinez. I will tell Clarita that it is all a lie and I will not give
you another <i>cuarto</i>. If you challenge him, I promise you all that
you wish. If you do not challenge him, I will accept no excuses or
reasons.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your cousin who loves you in her heart.<br>
&rdquo;<span class="smallcaps">Victorina de los Reyes de de
Espada&ntilde;a.</span><br>
&ldquo;Sampalog, Monday Eve, 7 o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>
</div>

<p>It was a serious matter. Linares knew Do&ntilde;a Victorina&rsquo;s
character and knew what she was capable of doing. To reason with her
was out of the question; to beg was useless; to deceive her worse.
There was no other remedy than to challenge.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But what can I do?&rdquo; he said to himself, as he was
walking alone. &ldquo;If he receives me harshly? If I meet his wife?
Who would want to be my second? The curate? Captain Tiago? Cursed be
the hour in which I gave ear to her advice! What will this
se&ntilde;orita say about me? Now I am sorry to have been secretary to
all the ministers.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb208" href=
"#pb208">208</a>]</span></p>

<p>The good Linares was in this sad soliloquy when Father Salv&iacute;
arrived. The Franciscan was certainly thinner and paler than usual, but
his eyes shone with a peculiar light and a strange smile was seen on
his lips.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or Linares, all alone?&rdquo; saluted the priest
and directed his steps to the <i>sala</i>, through the half open door
of which notes of the piano were heard.</p>

<p>Linares restrained a smile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And Don Santiago?&rdquo; added the curate.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago presented himself at that moment, kissed the
curate&rsquo;s hand, took the Father&rsquo;s hat and cane and smiled
like one who had been blessed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, well!&rdquo; said the curate, going into the <i>
sala</i>, followed by Linares and Captain Tiago. &ldquo;I have good
news from Manila which you will all enjoy. I have received letters from
Manila which confirm the one which Se&ntilde;or Ibarra brought me
yesterday&mdash;so that, Don Santiago, the impediment is
removed.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara was seated at the piano between her two girl friends.
She half rose to her feet at this remark, but her strength failed her
and she sat down again. Linares turned pale and looked at Captain
Tiago, who turned his eyes to the floor.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This young man really seems to me a very nice fellow,&rdquo;
continued the curate. &ldquo;At first, I judged him bad&mdash;he is a
little quick-tempered. But he knows so well how to atone for his faults
afterward, that one cannot hold any grudge against him. If it were not
for Father D&aacute;maso....&rdquo; And the curate directed a quick
glance at Maria Clara. She was listening to all that was going on but
without taking her eyes off the music&mdash;in spite of the concealed
pinches which Sinang gave her to express her joy. Had she been alone,
she would have danced.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Father D&aacute;maso?&rdquo; asked Linares without finishing
the sentence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; continued the curate. &ldquo;Father D&aacute;maso
has said that as ... godfather he could not permit ... but I believe
that if finally, Se&ntilde;or Ibarra asks pardon, which I do not doubt
he will do, all will be arranged.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara arose, made an excuse and retired to her room,
accompanied by Victoria. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb209" href=
"#pb209">209</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;And if Father D&aacute;maso does not pardon him?&rdquo; asked
Captain Tiago, in a low voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then Maria Clara will see that Father D&aacute;maso is her
spiritual father. But I believe that they will come to an
understanding.&rdquo;</p>

<p>At that moment, steps were heard and Ibarra appeared, followed by
Aunt Isabel. His presence on the scene produced a varied effect. He
saluted Captain Tiago affably, the latter not knowing whether to smile
or to weep; to Linares he bowed profoundly. Father Salv&iacute; arose
and extended his hand to him so affectionately that Ibarra could not
suppress a look of surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not think it strange,&rdquo; said Father Salv&iacute;.
&ldquo;I was just paying you a compliment.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra thanked him and approached Sinang.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Where have you been all day?&rdquo; she asked, with a
childish laugh. &ldquo;We have been asking each other, &lsquo;Where
could this soul redeemed from purgatory have gone?&rsquo; Each one of
us gave a different answer.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And will you not tell what you said?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, that is a secret; but I will surely tell you in private.
Now tell us where you have been so that we can see who has been able to
guess it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, that also is a secret; but I will tell you alone, if the
se&ntilde;ores will permit.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Certainly, certainly!&rdquo; said Father Salv&iacute;.</p>

<p>Sinang took Crisostomo to one end of the hall. She was very happy
with the idea of knowing a secret.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell me, my little friend,&rdquo; said Ibarra, &ldquo;Is
Maria angry with me?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not know, but she says that it is better that you should
forget her and then begins to cry. Captain Tiago wants her to marry
that gentleman; Father D&aacute;maso also wishes it; but she says
neither yes nor no. This morning when we were asking for you, I said:
&lsquo;What if he has gone to make love to some one else?&rsquo; She
replied to me: &lsquo;Would to God that he had!&rsquo; and then began
to cry.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra was serious.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tell Maria that I want to speak with her alone.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Alone?&rdquo; asked Sinang, knitting her eyebrows and looking
at him. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb210" href=
"#pb210">210</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Entirely alone, no. But so that we may not be seen by that
other se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is difficult, but don&rsquo;t worry. I will tell
her.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And when will I know the answer?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To-morrow come to the house early. Maria never wants to be
alone. We keep her company. Victoria sleeps by her side one night, and
I the next. To-morrow night it is my turn. But listen: What is the
secret? You are going without telling me the principal
thing.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is true. I was in the town of Los Ba&ntilde;os. I went
up there to do some business in cocoanut trees, since I am thinking of
building a factory. Your father will be my partner.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nothing more than that? Give us the secret!&rdquo; exclaimed
Sinang in a loud voice and in the tone of a defrauded usurer. &ldquo;I
thought&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take care. I don&rsquo;t want you to tell it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have no desire to!&rdquo; replied Sinang, sticking up her
nose. &ldquo;If it were something more important, I would tell it to my
friends. But to buy cocoanuts! cocoanuts! Who is interested in
cocoanuts?&rdquo;</p>

<p>And she went away in haste to find her girl friends.</p>

<p>A few moments afterward, Ibarra seeing that the conversation was
lagging, took leave of the gathering. Captain Tiago&rsquo;s expression
was between sweet and sour; Linares was silent and observing; and the
curate, feigning to be joyful, was telling stories. None of the girls
had returned. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb211" href=
"#pb211">211</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch33" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Playing Cards with the Shades.</h2>

<p>A cloudy sky hides the moon, and a cold wind, the omen of approaching
December, whirls the dry leaves and dust in the narrow path leading to
the cemetery.</p>

<p>Under the gate, three forms are conversing in a low tone.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you spoken to Elias?&rdquo; asked a voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No; you know he is very odd and discreet. But he ought to be
with us. Don Crisostomo saved his life.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I accepted the offer for the same reason,&rdquo; said the
first voice. &ldquo;Don Crisostomo is having my wife treated at a
doctor&rsquo;s house in Manila. I have agreed to take charge of the
convent in the attack, so that I can settle my accounts with the
curate.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And we, we will have charge of the attack on the <i>
cuartel</i>, so that we can say to the members of the <i>Guardia
Civil</i> that our father had sons.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;How many will there be of you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Five! Five will be enough. Don Crisostomo&rsquo;s servant
says that there will be twenty in all.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if things don&rsquo;t turn out well?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;St!&rdquo; said one, and they all became silent.</p>

<p>In the semi-darkness, a form could be seen crawling along the fence.
From time to time it stopped, as if to look behind.</p>

<p>And it did so not without reason. Behind, at some twenty paces, came
another form. This one was taller and seemed to be darker than the
first. Each time that the first stopped this second one would disappear
as if the earth had swallowed it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;They are following me,&rdquo; murmured the one ahead.
&ldquo;Is it a <i>Guardia Civil?</i> Has the sacristan lied?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It appears that the appointment is here,&rdquo; said the
second, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb212" href=
"#pb212">212</a>]</span>in a low voice. &ldquo;They are up to something
bad, when the two brothers hide it from me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The first form finally arrived at the gate of the cemetery. The
three who were already there advanced.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us separate. Some one is following me. To-morrow we will
have the arms and to-morrow night will be our time. The cry is
&lsquo;Viva Don Crisostomo!&rsquo; Begone!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The three persons disappeared behind the wall. The recent arrival
hid himself in the hollow of the gate and waited silently.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s see who is following me!&rdquo; he murmured.</p>

<p>The second person came along very cautiously, and stopped to look
around.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have arrived late!&rdquo; said he in a half intelligible
voice. &ldquo;But perhaps they will return.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And, as a fine rain began to fall and threatened to continue, he
took refuge under the gate. Naturally, he met the other.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! who are you?&rdquo; asked the one who had just come up,
in a manly voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And who are you?&rdquo; replied the other tranquilly.</p>

<p>There was a moment&rsquo;s pause. Each tried to recognize the other
by the tone of his voice and to distinguish the other&rsquo;s
features.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What are you waiting here for?&rdquo; asked the one with the
heavy voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Till the clock strikes eight, so as to have a game of cards
with the dead. I want to win some money to-night,&rdquo; replied the
other, in an ordinary tone. &ldquo;And you: what do you come here
for?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A&mdash;a&mdash;for the same thing.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well! I am glad. So I will not be without a companion. I have
brought some cards. At the first stroke of the bell, I put down the <i>
albur</i> (the first two cards put on the board in monte). At the
second stroke, I put down the <i>gallo</i> (the second pair). The cards
which move after I have put them down, are those which the dead choose
for themselves. Did you also bring some cards?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb213" href=
"#pb213">213</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Then?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is simple. Just as you act as &lsquo;banker&rsquo; for
them, so I hope that they will &lsquo;bank&rsquo; for me.&rdquo; (In
monte the banker deals the cards and bets that one of the cards in
either the <i>albur</i> or <i>gallo</i> is turned up by dealing off the
pack, before the card chosen by the other person is turned up. A banker
can play against two others.)</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if the shades do not care to
&lsquo;bank&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What can be done? The game is not obligatory upon the
dead.&rdquo;</p>

<p>There was a moment&rsquo;s silence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you come armed? What if you have to fight with the shades
of the dead?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll use my fists,&rdquo; replied the taller of the
two.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! The devil! Now, I remember! The dead do not bet when
there is more than one live person around. There are two of
us.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is that true? Well, I don&rsquo;t want to go away.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nor I. I need some money,&rdquo; replied the smaller one.
&ldquo;But let us do this: We will decide by the cards which one shall
go away.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; replied the other, showing a certain amount
of displeasure.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then let us go in. Have you any matches?&rdquo;</p>

<p>They entered the cemetery and in the obscurity they searched for a
place where they might decide the question with the cards. They soon
found a niche upon which they sat down. The shorter one took from his
hat some playing cards and the other lighted a match.</p>

<p>Each one looked at the other in the light which the match made, but,
judging from the expression on their faces, they did not recognize each
other. However, we can recognize in the taller one, the one with the
manly voice, Elias; and in the smaller one, Lucas, with the scar on his
cheek.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Cut the cards!&rdquo; said the latter, without ceasing to
look at the other.</p>

<p>He pushed aside some bones which were found on the niche and turned
up an ace and a jack for the <i>albur</i>. Elias lighted one match
after another.</p>

<p>&ldquo;On the jack!&rdquo; said he and, in order to show which of
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb214" href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>the
cards he was betting on, he placed upon it a piece of
vertebr&aelig;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I deal!&rdquo; said Lucas and, after turning up four or five
cards, an ace came up.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have lost,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;Now leave me alone so
that I may win some money.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias, without saying a word, disappeared in the darkness.</p>

<p>Some minutes afterward, the clock in the church struck eight and the
bell announced the hour of prayer. But Lucas did not invite anybody to
play with him. He did not call out the shades, as superstition
demanded. Instead, he uncovered his head, murmured some prayers and
crossed himself with the same fervor as the chief of the Brotherhood of
the Most Sacred Rosary would have done at that moment.</p>

<p>The drizzling rain continued all night. At nine o&rsquo;clock the
streets were dark and lonely. The little cocoanut oil lanterns, which
each citizen had to hang out in front of his house gave light scarcely
a meter around. It seemed as though they had been lighted so one might
see the darkness.</p>

<p>Two Civil Guards were walking from one side of the street to the
other near the church.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is cold,&rdquo; said one in Tagalog with a Visayan accent.
&ldquo;We aren&rsquo;t catching any sacristans. There is nobody to
clean out the <i>alferez&rsquo;s</i> hen yard and we ought to catch
some sacristan and make him do it. Since that one was killed, they have
taken warning. I am getting tired of this.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; replied the other. &ldquo;Nobody commits any
robbery; no one disturbs the peace; but, thank God, they say that Elias
is in town. The <i>alferez</i> says that the one who catches him will
be free from whippings for three months.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! Do you know his identification marks?&rdquo; asked the
Visayan.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I certainly do! Stature, tall, according to the <i>
alferez&rsquo;s</i> description; ordinary, according to the description
of Father D&aacute;maso; color, brunette; eyes, black; nose, regular;
mouth, regular; beard, none; hair, black.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! And particular marks?&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb215" href="#pb215">215</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Camisa</i>, black; pantaloons, black; a
wood-cutter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! He will not escape. I think I see him already.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t confuse him with anybody else, although you
might think so.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Both soldiers continued their beats.</p>

<p>By the light of the lantern two forms could again be seen, one
following the other cautiously. A forcible &ldquo;<i lang="es">Quien
vive?</i>&rdquo; stops them both. The first one replied &ldquo;<i lang=
"es">Espa&ntilde;a</i>,&rdquo; in a trembling voice.</p>

<p>The two soldiers drag him along and bring him up to the light, to
recognize him. It was Lucas, but the soldiers were in doubt and
questioned each other with a glance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>alferez</i> said nothing about his having a
scar,&rdquo; said the Visayan in a low voice. &ldquo;Where are you
going?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To order a mass for to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you not seen Elias?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not know him, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; replied Lucas.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You dunce! I am not asking if you know him. Nor do we know
him. I am asking you if you have seen him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Listen closely. I will give you his description. Stature, at
times tall, at times regular; skin and eyes, black; all the others are
regular,&rdquo; said the Visayan. &ldquo;Do you know him
now?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; replied Lucas, frightened.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, <i>sulung</i>! (Go along). You brute! You ass!&rdquo;
And they gave him a shove.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know why Elias is tall, according to the <i>
alferez</i>, and why he is short, according to the curate?&rdquo; asked
the <span class="corr" id="xd0e5865" title="Source: Tagalo">
Tagalog</span> of the other.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because the <i>alferez</i> was stuck in a mud hole when he
observed him, and the curate was on foot when he saw him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right!&rdquo; exclaimed the Visayan. &ldquo;You
are bright. Why are you a <i>Guardia Civil</i>?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t been always. I was a smuggler at one
time,&rdquo; replied the Tagalog boastingly.</p>

<p>But another form attracted their attention. They called out
&ldquo;<i lang="es">Quien Vive?</i>&rdquo; and brought him up to the
light. This time it was Elias himself. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb216" href="#pb216">216</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Where are you going?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am pursuing, se&ntilde;or, a man who has whipped and
threatened my brother. He has a scar on his face and his name is
Elias&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ha?&rdquo; exclaimed the two, and looked at each other
frightened.</p>

<p>And at once they started on a run toward the church, where a few
minutes before Lucas had disappeared. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb217" href="#pb217">217</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch34" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Discovery.</h2>

<p>The bell announces the hour of evening prayer. On hearing the
religious sound, all stop, leave their work and uncover their heads;
the laborer, coming from the fields on the <i>carabao&rsquo;s</i> back,
suspends the song to which the animal keeps step, and prays; the women
in the middle of the street make the sign of the cross, and move their
lips with affectation so that no one may doubt their devotion: the man
stops fondling his game-cock and recites the Angelus so that he may
have good luck; in the houses, they pray in a loud voice ... every
sound which is not a part of the <i>Ave Maria</i> is dissipated,
silenced.</p>

<p>However, the curate, without his hat, hastily crosses the street,
scandalizing many old women. And still more scandalous, he directs his
steps towards the <i>alferez&rsquo;s</i> house. The devout women think
that it is time for them to stop the movement of their lips and to kiss
the curate&rsquo;s hand, but Father Salv&iacute; takes no notice of
them. To-day he finds no pleasure in placing his bony hand under a
Christian&rsquo;s nose. Some important business must be occupying him
that he should so forget his own interests and those of the Church!</p>

<p>He goes up the stairs and knocks impatiently at the <i>
alferez&rsquo;s</i> door. The latter appears, his eyebrows knit and
followed by his better half, who smiles malignantly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, Father Curate! I was just going to see you. Your
he-goat....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have a most important matter....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t allow your goat to go on breaking down my
fence.... I&rsquo;ll shoot him if he gets in there again.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is if you are alive to-morrow,&rdquo; said the curate,
breathless, and directing himself toward the <i>sala</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What! do you think that that seven-months-old puppy will kill
me? I&rsquo;ll kick him to pieces.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb218" href="#pb218">218</a>]</span></p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute; stepped back and looked instinctively at the
feet of the <i>alferez</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Whom are you talking about?&rdquo; asked he, trembling.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Of whom could I be talking but that big blockhead who
proposes to challenge me to a duel with revolvers at one hundred
paces?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; sighed the curate, and added: &ldquo;I have come
to speak about a most urgent matter which seriously concerns the life
of all of us.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Seriously!&rdquo; repeated the <i>alferez</i>, turning pale
in turn. &ldquo;Does this young fellow shoot well...?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am not speaking about him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The friar pointed to the door which the a<i>lferez</i> shut in his
customary manner, by a kick. The a<i>lferez</i> usually found his hands
superfluous. An imprecation and a groan from without were heard.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You brute. You have cut open my head!&rdquo; cried his
wife.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Now unbosom yourself,&rdquo; said he to the curate in a quiet
manner. The latter looked at him for some time. Afterward he asked, in
that nasal and monotonous priest&rsquo;s voice:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you see how I came running?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Umph! I thought something was the matter with you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;When I leave my duties in this manner there are grave
motives.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what is it?&rdquo; asked the other, stamping his foot on
the floor.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Calm yourself!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, why did you come in such a hurry?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The curate approached him and asked in a mysterious way:</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t&mdash;you&mdash;know&mdash;anything&mdash;new?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> shrugged his shoulders.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You confess that you know absolutely nothing?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What! do you mean to tell me about Elias, whom your sacristan
mayor hid last night?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, no! I don&rsquo;t speak of such matters now,&rdquo;
replied the curate, in a bad humor. &ldquo;I am talking about a great
danger.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb219" href=
"#pb219">219</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Then d&mdash;&mdash;n it! Let it out.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said the friar slowly and with a certain
disdain, &ldquo;you will see again how important we priests are. The
lowest layman is worth a regiment, so that a curate....&rdquo;</p>

<p>And then lowering his voice in a very mysterious manner:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have discovered a great conspiracy.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> started and looked at the friar astonished.</p>

<p>&ldquo;A terrible and well-laid conspiracy, which is to break out
this very night.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;This very night!&rdquo; exclaimed the <i>alferez</i>, moving
at first toward Father Salv&iacute;, and then running after his
revolver and saber, which were hanging on the wall: &ldquo;Whom shall I
arrest? Whom shall I arrest?&rdquo; he cried.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Be calm. It is not yet time, thanks to my great haste. At
eight o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll shoot them all!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Listen! This afternoon a woman, whose name I must not mention
(it is a secret of the confessional) came to me and disclosed it all.
At eight o&rsquo;clock they will take the <i>cuartel</i> by surprise,
sack the convent, seize the Government&rsquo;s steamboat and
assassinate all the Spaniards.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> was stupified.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The woman has not told more than that,&rdquo; added the
curate.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Has not told you more? Then I&rsquo;ll arrest her!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No; I cannot consent to it. The tribunal of penitence is the
throne of God of forgiveness.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Neither God nor forgiveness count in this matter. I&rsquo;ll
arrest her.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are losing your head. What you ought to do is to prepare
yourself. Arm your soldiers quietly and put them in ambush. Send me
four Guards for the convent and notify the people on the Government
steamboat.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The boat is not here. I&rsquo;ll send to other sections for
aid.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;They would notice that and would not go on with their plans.
No, don&rsquo;t do that. What is important is that we catch them alive
and make them talk; I say, you will make them disclose the conspiracy.
I, in the capacity <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb220" href=
"#pb220">220</a>]</span>of a priest, ought not to mix myself in these
matters. Now&rsquo;s your chance! Here you can win crosses and stars. I
ask only that you make it evident that I am the one who warned
you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It will be made evident, Father, it will be made evident! And
perhaps a mitre will fall to you!&rdquo; replied the radiant <i>
alferez</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Be sure and send me four un-uniformed Civil Guards, eh? Be
discreet! To-night at eight o&rsquo;clock, it will rain stars and
crosses.&rdquo;</p>

<p>While this was going on, a man came running down the road which led
to Ibarra&rsquo;s house, and quickly went up the stairs.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is the Se&ntilde;or at home?&rdquo; asked Elias of the
servant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is in his laboratory at work.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra, in order to pass the time while he impatiently waited for
the hour when he could make explanations to Maria Clara, had gone to
work in his cabinet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, is it you, Elias?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I was
thinking about you. Yesterday, I forgot to ask you for the name of that
Spaniard in whose house your grandfather lived.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t bother yourself, Se&ntilde;or, about
me....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo; continued Ibarra, without noting the agitation
of the young man, and putting a piece of bamboo to a flame. &ldquo;I
have made a great discovery. This bamboo is
incombustible....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk about bamboo now, Se&ntilde;or. Talk about
collecting your papers and fleeing in a minute.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him surprised, and, on seeing the seriousness in
Elias&rsquo;s countenance, he dropped the object which he had in his
hands.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Burn everything that can possibly implicate you in any way
and put yourself in a more secure place within an hour.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what for?&rdquo; he asked at last.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Put all that you have of value in a secure
place....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what for?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Burn all papers written by you or to you. The most innocent
can be interpreted in a bad sense.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But what for?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What for? Because I have just discovered a conspiracy <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb221" href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>which will
be attributed to you in order to ruin you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A conspiracy? And who has planned it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have been unable to learn the author of it. Only a moment
ago I was talking with one of the unfortunate men who have been paid
for it. I could not dissuade him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And didn&rsquo;t that fellow say who paid him?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes. Asking me to keep the secret, he told me that it was
you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; exclaimed Ibarra. He stood stupefied.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or, don&rsquo;t hesitate, don&rsquo;t doubt,
don&rsquo;t lose time, for undoubtedly the conspiracy will break out
this very night.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra, with staring eyes, and hands holding his head, seemed not to
hear him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The blow cannot be thwarted,&rdquo; continued Elias. &ldquo;I
have arrived too late. I do not know their leaders ... save yourself,
Se&ntilde;or, save yourself for the sake of your country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Where shall I flee? They are expecting me this
evening,&rdquo; exclaimed Ibarra, thinking of Maria Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To any other town, to Manila, to the house of some official;
only flee somewhere so that they will not say that you are directing
the movement.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And if I myself denounce the conspiracy?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You denounce it?&rdquo; exclaimed Elias, looking at him, and
stepping back. &ldquo;You would pass for a traitor and a coward in the
eyes of the conspirators, and for a pusillanimous person in the eyes of
others. They would say that you had played a trick to win some praise,
they would say....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But what can be done?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Already I have told you. Destroy all the papers you have
which relate to you; flee and await developments.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And Maria Clara?&rdquo; exclaimed the young man. &ldquo;No;
death first!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias wrung his hands and said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, then, at least avoid the blow. Prepare yourself against
their accusations.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked around him in a stupefied manner.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then, help me! There in those bags I have my family <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb222" href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>letters.
Sort out those from my father, which are, perhaps, the ones that would
incriminate me. Read the signatures.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra, stunned and overwhelmed, opened and closed drawers,
collected papers, hastily read letters, tore up some, kept others, took
down books and thumbed through some of them. Elias did the same, if
indeed with less confusion, with equal zeal. But he stopped, with eyes
wide open, turned over a paper which he had in his hand and asked in a
trembling voice:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Did your family know Don Pedro Eibarramendia?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Certainly!&rdquo; replied Ibarra, opening a drawer and taking
out a pile of papers. &ldquo;He was my great-grandfather.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your great grandfather? Don Pedro Eibarramendia?&rdquo; he
again asked, with livid features and a changed appearance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, distracted. &ldquo;We cut short
the name, for it was too long.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He was a Basque?&rdquo; said Elias approaching him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes; but what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; he asked,
surprised.</p>

<p>Elias closed his fist, shook it in Ibarra&rsquo;s face and looked at
him. Crisostomo stepped back as soon as he read the expression on that
face.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know who Don Pedro Eibarramendia was?&rdquo; he asked
between his teeth. &ldquo;Don Pedro Eibarramendia was that wretch who
accused my grandfather and caused all our misery.... I was looking for
one of his name. God has given you into my hands.... Account to me for
our misfortunes.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at him terrified. Elias shook him by the arm and, in a
bitter voice, filled with hate, said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Look at me well; see if I have suffered, and you, you live,
you love, you have fortune, home, consideration. You live ... you
live!&rdquo;</p>

<p>And, beside himself, he ran toward a small collection of arms, but
he had scarcely grasped two swords when he let them fall, and, like a
madman, looked at Ibarra, who remained immovable.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What am I to do?&rdquo; he said and fled from the house.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb223" href="#pb223">223</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch35" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXV.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Catastrophe.</h2>

<p>There in the dining-room Captain Tiago, Linares, and Aunt Isabel
were eating supper. In the <i>sala</i> the rattling of plate and
tableware was heard. Maria Clara had said that she did not care to eat
and had seated herself at the piano. By her side was jolly Sinang, who
murmured little secrets in Maria&rsquo;s ear, while Father Salv&iacute;
uneasily paced the <i>sala</i>.</p>

<p>It was not because the convalescent had no appetite that she was not
eating. It was because she was awaiting the arrival of a certain person
and had taken advantage of the moment in which her Argus could not be
present, the hour when Linares ate.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You will see how that ghost will stay till eight
o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; murmured Sinang, pointing to the curate.
&ldquo;At eight o&rsquo;clock <i>he</i> ought to come. This priest is
as much in love as Linares.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara looked at her friend, frightened. The latter, without
noticing her expression, continued her terrible gossip:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! Now I know why he doesn&rsquo;t go, in spite of all my
hints. He doesn&rsquo;t want to burn the lamps in the convent.
Don&rsquo;t you see? Ever since you fell ill, he has had the two lights
which he used to burn, put out. But look at his eyes and his
face!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Just at that moment the clock in the house struck eight. The curate
trembled and went and sat down in a corner of the room.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is coming,&rdquo; said Sinang, pinching Maria Clara.
&ldquo;Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The bell in the church tolled eight and all arose to pray. Father
Salv&iacute;, with a weak and trembling voice, led, but, as each one
had his own thoughts, nobody paid any attention to him. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb224" href="#pb224">224</a>]</span></p>

<p>The prayer had scarcely ended, when Ibarra presented himself. The
young man was wearing mourning, not only in his dress, but in his face.
In fact, it was so evident that Maria Clara, on seeing him, arose and
took a step toward him as if to ask what ailed him, but at the same
instant a discharge of musketry was heard. Ibarra stopped, his eyes
rolled and he was unable to speak. The curate hid himself behind a
pillar. More shooting and more noise was heard in the direction of the
convent, followed by cries and the sound of people running. Captain
Tiago, Aunt Isabel and Linares entered the room, hurriedly crying
&ldquo;<i lang="es">tulisan! tulisan!</i>&rdquo; Andeng followed them,
brandishing a spit and ran toward her foster sister.</p>

<p>Aunt Isabel fell on her knees and prayed the <i>Kyrie eleison</i>.
Captain Tiago, pale and trembling, carried a chicken&rsquo;s liver on
his fork, and, in tears, offered it to the Virgin of Antipolo. Linares
had his mouth full and was armed with a spoon. Sinang and Maria Clara
embraced each other. The only person who did not move was Ibarra. He
stood as if petrified, his face indescribably pale.</p>

<p>The cries and blows continued, the windows were shut with a bang, a
whistle was heard, and occasionally a shot.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Christe eleison!</i> Santiago, fasten the windows,&rdquo;
groaned Aunt Isabel.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Fifty great bombs and a thanksgiving mass,&rdquo; replied
Captain Tiago. &ldquo;<i lang="la">Ora pro nobis!</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>After a time, things quieted down and there was a terrible silence.
The voice of the <i>alferez</i> was distinguished, as he came running
in, and crying: &ldquo;Father curate! Father Salv&iacute;!
Come!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Misere!</i> The <i>alferez</i> is asking for
confession!&rdquo; cried Aunt Isabel.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is he wounded?&rdquo; asked Linares at last.
&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Come, Father Salv&iacute;! There is nothing to fear
now,&rdquo; continued the <i>alferez</i>, shouting.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute;, pale, and decided at last, came out of his
hiding-place and went downstairs.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>tulisanes</i> have killed the <i>alferez</i>!&rdquo;
said Aunt Isabel.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Maria Clara, Sinang, go to your room! Fasten the door! <i>
Kyrie eleison!</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra also went toward the stairs, in spite of Aunt <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb225" href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>Isabel, who was
saying: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go out! You haven&rsquo;t confessed yet.
Don&rsquo;t go out!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The good old woman had been a great friend of Ibarra&rsquo;s
mother.</p>

<p>But Ibarra left the house. It seemed to him that all about him was
revolving through the air, that even the ground was gone from under his
feet. His ears buzzed. His legs moved heavily and irregularly. Waves of
blood, light and darkness, succeeded one another on the retina of his
eye.</p>

<p>Despite the fact that the moon was shining brightly in the heavens,
the young man stumbled on every stone in the solitary and deserted
street.</p>

<p>Near the <i>cuartel</i> he saw some soldiers with their bayonets
fixed, talking excitedly. He passed by unseen.</p>

<p>In the tribunal, blows, cries, wails, and curses were heard. The <i>
alferez&rsquo;s</i> voice drowned all the others.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Put him in the stocks! Put handcuffs on that fellow! Two
shots for whoever moves! Sergeant, you will mount your guard! Let no
one pass, not even God! Corporal, let no one sleep!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra hastened his steps toward his house. His servants were
uneasily awaiting him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Saddle the best horse and go to bed!&rdquo; said he to
them.</p>

<p>He entered his laboratory and hurriedly began to get his travelling
bag ready. He opened an iron box, took out all the money which he found
there and put it in a bag. He gathered his jewels together, took down a
picture of Maria Clara which was hanging upon the wall, and, arming
himself with a dirk and two revolvers, he turned to the cupboard where
he had some tools.</p>

<p>At that instant, three blows, loud and strong, sounded on the
door.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s there?&rdquo; asked Ibarra, in a doleful
voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Open in the name of the King! Open the door at once, or we
will knock it down!&rdquo; replied an imperious Spanish voice.</p>

<p>Ibarra looked toward the window. His eyes flashed and he cocked his
revolver. But changing his mind, he left the arms and went to open the
door at the same moment that the servants came up. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb226" href="#pb226">226</a>]</span></p>

<p>Three Guards seized him instantly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are made a prisoner in the name of the King!&rdquo; said
the sergeant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;They will tell you later. We are prohibited from saying a
word.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young man reflected a moment and not wishing, perhaps, the
soldiers to discover his preparations for flight, he took his hat and
said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am at your disposal. I suppose it will be only for a short
time.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you promise not to escape, we will not handcuff you. The
<i>alferez</i> grants this favor, but if you
flee&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra followed, leaving the servants in consternation.</p>

<p>In the meantime, what had become of Elias?</p>

<p>On leaving Crisostomo&rsquo;s house, like a madman, he ran about
without knowing where. He crossed fields, and in violent agitation
arrived at a forest. He was fleeing from people, and from light. The
moon troubled him and he entered the mysterious shade of the forest.
Sometimes stopping, sometimes following unbroken paths, leaning upon
century-old trunks, entangled in the briars, he looked toward the town,
which lay at his feet bathed in the light of the moon, stretching
itself out on the plain, lying on the shore of the lake. Birds,
disturbed in their sleep, flew away. Owls screeched and flew from one
limb to another. But Elias neither heard nor saw them. He thought he
was being followed by the infuriated shades of his ancestors. He saw
the horrible basket hanging from every branch with the blood-covered
head of B&aacute;lat, just as his father had described it to him. He
thought he saw the dead body of his grandmother lying at the foot of
every tree. He seemed to see the skeleton of his dishonored grandfather
in the darkness, and the skeleton, the old woman, and the head all
cried out to him, &ldquo;Coward! Coward!&rdquo;</p>

<p>He left the mountain and fled down toward the sea. He ran along the
beach in agitation. But there in the distance, amid the waves, where
the light of the moon seemed to raise a fog, he thought he saw a shade
raise itself, the shade of his sister, with her breast covered with
blood, her hair hanging loose in the air. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb227" href="#pb227">227</a>]</span></p>

<p>Elias fell upon his knees on the sand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;And you, too!&rdquo; he cried stretching out his arms.</p>

<p>Then, with his eyes fixed on the fog, he arose slowly and, advancing
toward it, went into the water as if to follow somebody. He waded on
over the gentle slope of the beach which forms the bar. He was already
far from the shore and the water was up to his belt. He went on and on,
as if fascinated by a seducing spirit. The water was now up to his
breast. Suddenly, the discharge of musketry awoke him from his dream,
the vision disappeared, and the young man returned to reality. He
stopped, reflected, and noticed that he was in the water. The lake was
smooth and he could still see the lights in the fishermen&rsquo;s
huts.</p>

<p>He returned to the shore and made his way toward the town. What for?
He himself did not know.</p>

<p>The town seemed uninhabited. The houses were all closed. Even the
animals, the dogs which are accustomed to bark at night, had hid
themselves through fear. The silvery light of the moon increased the
sadness and solitude.</p>

<p>Afraid of meeting the Civil Guards, he went through the orchards and
gardens. In one of the gardens he thought he saw two human forms, but
he continued his way. Jumping over fences and walls, he arrived after
great labor at the other side of the town, and directed his steps
toward Ibarra&rsquo;s house. The servants were in the door, lamenting
and commenting on the arrest of their master.</p>

<p>Aware of what had passed, Elias went away, but returned to the
house, leaped over the wall, crawled through a window and went into the
cabinet or laboratory, where the candle which Ibarra had left was still
burning.</p>

<p>Elias saw the papers and the books. He found the arms and the little
sacks which contained the money and the jewelry. All that had passed
ran through his imagination again, and, seeing all the papers which
might incriminate Ibarra, he thought of collecting them, throwing them
through the window and burying them.</p>

<p>He glanced toward the garden and, by the light of the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb228" href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>moon, he saw two
Civil Guards coming with an adjutant. Their bayonets and helmets were
glistening in the light.</p>

<p>Then he decided. He piled up the clothes and papers in the middle of
the cabinet, emptied the oil in a lamp upon the pile and set fire to
it. He quickly buckled the arms around him. He saw the picture of Maria
Clara, hesitated&mdash;put it in one of the little sacks, and jumped
out of the window with them all.</p>

<p>It was already time, for the two Civil Guards were forcing their
entrance.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us go up to get your master&rsquo;s papers,&rdquo; said
the adjutant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you permission? If not, you shall not go up!&rdquo; said
an old servant.</p>

<p>But the soldiers pushed the servants aside with the butts of their
guns and went upstairs. A thick smoke was already filling the whole
house, and gigantic tongues of flame were coming out from the <i>
sala</i>, licking the doors and windows.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Fire! Fire! Fire!&rdquo; they all cried.</p>

<p>Each hurried to save what he could, but the fire had filled the
small laboratory, breaking out furiously among the inflammable
materials. The Civil Guards had to turn back. The fire, roaring and
sweeping all before it, closed the passage to them. In vain they
brought water from the well. All were shouting, and crying for help,
but they were isolated. The fire reached the other rooms and in thick
columns of smoke ascended to the heavens. Some peasants came from a
distance, but they arrived only in time to see the frightful spectacle,
the end of that old building, so long respected by the elements. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb229" href="#pb229">229</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch36" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">What People Say and Think.</h2>

<p>Day dawned at last for the terrorized people. The streets in which
the <i>cuartel</i> and the tribunal were situated were still deserted
and solitary. The houses showed no signs of life. However, a shutter
was opened with a creaking noise and an infant head stuck out and
looked in all directions.... Slap!... A sound announces hard contact
between a strip of leather and a human body. The child made a grimace,
closed its eyes and disappeared. The shutter was closed again.</p>

<p>The example had been set. Without any doubt the opening and closing
of the shutter has been heard, for another window was opened very
slowly and cautiously and a wrinkled and toothless old woman thrust out
her head. She was called Sister Rut&eacute;. She looked about, knit her
brows, spit noisily and then crossed herself. In the house opposite, a
little window was timidly opened and her friend, Sister Rufa appeared.
They looked at each other for a moment, smiled, made some signals, and
again crossed themselves.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Jes&uacute;s!</i> It was like a thanksgiving mass,&rdquo;
said Sister Rufa.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Since the time that B&aacute;lat sacked the town I have never
seen a night like it,&rdquo; replied Sister Put&eacute;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What a lot of shots! They say that it was old Pablo&rsquo;s
gang.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Tulisanes?</i> It couldn&rsquo;t be. They say that it was
the <i>cuaderilleros</i> against the Civil Guards. For this reason,
they have arrested Don Filipo.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i lang="la">Sanctus Deus!</i> They say that there are no
less than fourteen killed.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Other windows were opened and different faces appeared, exchanging
salutations and commenting on the affair.</p>

<p>In the light of the day&mdash;which promised to be a splendid <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb230" href=
"#pb230">230</a>]</span>one&mdash;could be seen in the distance, like
ash-colored shadows, soldiers hurrying about in confusion.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There goes another corpse!&rdquo; said some one from one of
the windows.</p>

<p>&ldquo;One? I see two.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And so do I. But do you know what it was?&rdquo; asked a man
with a crafty face.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Certainly. The <i>cuaderilleros</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, Se&ntilde;or. An uprising at the <i>
cuartel</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What uprising? The curate against the <i>
alferez</i>?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, nothing of the sort,&rdquo; said he who had asked the
question. &ldquo;The Chinese have risen in revolt.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And he closed his window again.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The Chinese!&rdquo; repeated all, with the greatest
astonishment.</p>

<p>In a quarter of an hour other versions of the affair were in
circulation. Ibarra, with his servants, it was said, had tried to steal
Maria Clara, and Captain Tiago, aided by the <i>Guardia Civil</i> had
defended her.</p>

<p>By this time the number of the dead was no longer fourteen, but
thirty. Captain Tiago, it was said, was wounded and was going right off
to Manila with his family.</p>

<p>The arrival of two <i>cuaderilleros</i>, carrying a human form in a
wheelbarrow, and followed by a Civil Guard, produced a great sensation.
It was supposed that they came from the convent. From the form of the
feet which were hanging down, they tried to guess who it could be. By
half-past seven, when other Civil Guards arrived from neighboring
towns, the current version of the affair was already clear and
detailed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have just come from the tribunal, where I have seen Don
Filipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners,&rdquo; said a man to Sister
Put&eacute;. &ldquo;I talked with one of the <i>cuaderilleros</i> on
guard. Well, Bruno, the son of the man who was whipped to death, made a
declaration last night. As you know, Captain Tiago is going to marry
his daughter to a Spaniard. Don Crisostomo, offended, wanted to take
revenge and tried to kill all the Spaniards, even the curate. Last
night they attacked the convent and the <i>cuartel</i>. Happily, by
mercy of God, the curate was in Captain Tiago&rsquo;s house. They say
that many escaped. The Civil <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb231" href=
"#pb231">231</a>]</span>Guards burned Don Crisostomo&rsquo;s house, and
if they had not taken him prisoner, they would have burned him,
too.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;They burned the house?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All the servants were arrested. Why, you can still see the
smoke from here!&rdquo; said the narrator, approaching the window.
&ldquo;Those who come from there relate very sad things.&rdquo;</p>

<p>All looked toward the place indicated. A light column of smoke was
still ascending to the heavens. All made comments more or less pious,
more or less accusatory.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Poor young man!&rdquo; exclaimed an old man, the husband of
Put&eacute;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; replied his wife. &ldquo;But he did not order a
mass for the soul of his father, who undoubtedly needs it more than
others.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But wife, you don&rsquo;t have any pity....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Sympathy for the excommunicated? It is a sin to have pity for
the enemies of God, say the curates. Don&rsquo;t you remember? He ran
over the sacred burial ground as if he were in a cattle pen.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But a cattle pen and a cemetery are much alike,&rdquo;
responded the old man, &ldquo;except that but one class of animals
enter the cemetery.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; cried Sister Put&eacute;. &ldquo;Are you still
going to defend him whom God so clearly punishes? You will see that
they will arrest you, too. You may support a falling house, if you want
to!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The husband became silent in view of this argument.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; continued the old woman, &ldquo;after striking
Father D&aacute;maso, there was nothing left for him to do but to kill
Father Salv&iacute;.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But you can&rsquo;t deny that he was a good boy when he was a
child.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, he was a good child,&rdquo; replied the old woman,
&ldquo;but he went to Spain. All those who go to Spain return heretics,
so the curates say.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaimed the husband, seeing his revenge.
&ldquo;And the curate, and all the curates, and the Archbishops, and
the Pope, and the Virgin&mdash;are they not Spaniards? Bah! Are they
heretics, too? Bah!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Happily for Sister Put&eacute;, the arrival of a servant, who rushed
in confused and pale, cut off the discussion. <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb232" href="#pb232">232</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;A man hanged in a neighboring orchard!&rdquo; she exclaimed
breathless.</p>

<p>&ldquo;A man hanged!&rdquo; exclaimed all, full of amazement.</p>

<p>The women crossed themselves. No one could stir.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; continued the servant, trembling.
&ldquo;I was going to gather some peas in.... I looked into the orchard
next door ... to see if there ... I saw a man swinging.... I thought it
was Teo ... I went nearer to gather peas, and I saw that it was not he
but it was another, and was dead ... I ran, ran and....&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us go and see it,&rdquo; said the old man, rising.
&ldquo;Take us there.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go!&rdquo; cried Sister Put&eacute;, seizing him
by the shirt.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll get into trouble! He has hanged himself? Then
all the worse for him!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let me see it, wife! Go to the tribunal, Juan, and report it.
Perhaps he is not dead yet.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And he went ino[typo, should be into?] the orchard, followed by the
servant, who kept hid behind him. The women and Sister Put&eacute;
herself came along behind, full of terror and curiosity.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There it is, Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; said the servant stopping
him and pointing with her finger.</p>

<p>The group stopped at a respectful distance, allowing the old man to
advance alone.</p>

<p>The body of a man, hanging from the limb of a <i>santol</i> tree,
was swinging slowly in the breeze. The old man contemplated it for some
time. He looked at the rigid feet, the arms, the stained clothing and
the drooping head.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We ought not to touch the corpse until some official has
arrived,&rdquo; said he, in a loud voice. &ldquo;He is already stiff.
He has been dead for some time.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The women approached hesitatingly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is the neighbor who lived in that little house; the one
who arrived only two weeks ago. Look at the scar on his
face.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ave Maria!&rdquo; exclaimed some of the women.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Shall we pray for his soul?&rdquo; asked a young girl as soon
as she had finished looking at the dead body from all directions.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You fool! You heretic!&rdquo; Sister Put&eacute; scolded her.
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know what Father D&aacute;maso said? To pray for
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb233" href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>a
damned person is to tempt God. He who commits suicide is irrevocably
condemned. For this reason, he cannot be buried in a sacred place. I
had begun to think that this man was going to have a bad ending. I
never could guess what he lived on.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I saw him twice speaking with the sacristan mayor,&rdquo;
observed a girl.</p>

<p>&ldquo;It couldn&rsquo;t have been to confess himself or to order a
mass!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The neighbors gathered together and a large circle surrounded the
corpse which was still swinging. In half an hour some officers and two
<i>cuaderilleros</i> arrived. They took the body down and put it in a
wheelbarrow.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Some people are in a hurry to die,&rdquo; said one of the
officers, laughing, while he took out the pen from behind his ear.</p>

<p>He asked some trifling questions; took the declaration of the
servant, whom he tried to implicate, now looking at her with evil in
his eyes, now threatening her and now attributing to her words which
she did not say&mdash;so much so that the servant, believing that she
was going to be taken to jail, began to weep and finished by declaring
that she was looking for peas, but that ... and she called Teo to
witness.</p>

<p>In the meantime, a peasant with a wide hat and a large plaster on
his neck, was examining the body, and the rope by which it was
hanging.</p>

<p>The face was no more livid than the rest of the body. Above the rope
could be seen two scars and two small bruises. Where the rope had
rubbed, there was no blood and the skin was white. The curious peasant
examined closely the <i>camisa</i> and the pantaloons. He noted that
they were full of dust and recently torn in some places. But what most
attracted his attention were the &ldquo;stick-tights&rdquo;<a class=
"noteref" id="xd0e6522src" href="#xd0e6522">1</a> on his clothing, even
up to his neck.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you see?&rdquo; asked the officer.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I was trying to identify him, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; stammered
the peasant, lowering his hat further from his uncovered head. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb234" href="#pb234">234</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;But haven&rsquo;t you heard that it was one Lucas? Were you
sleeping?&rdquo;</p>

<p>All began to laugh. The peasant, embarrassed, muttered a few words,
and went away with head down, walking slowly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Here! Where are you going?&rdquo; cried the old man.
&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t get out that way. That&rsquo;s the way to the
dead man&rsquo;s house.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That fellow is still asleep,&rdquo; said the officer with a
jeer. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to throw some water on him!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Those standing around laughed again.</p>

<p>The peasant left the place where he had played so poor a part and
directed his steps toward the church. In the <span class="corr" id=
"xd0e6545" title="Source: sacristry">sacristy</span>, he asked for the
sacristan mayor.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is still sleeping!&rdquo; they replied gruffly.
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know that they sacked the convent last
night?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I will wait till he awakes.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The sacristans looked at him with that rudeness characteristic of
people who are in the habit of being ill-treated.</p>

<p>In a dark corner, the one-eyed sacristan mayor was sleeping in a
large chair. His spectacles were across his forehead among his long
locks of hair. His squalid, bony breast was bare, and rose and fell
with regularity.</p>

<p>The peasant sat down near by, disposed to wait patiently, but a coin
fell on the floor and he began looking for it with the aid of a candle,
under the sacristan mayor&rsquo;s big chair. The peasant also noted
&ldquo;stick-tights&rdquo; on the sleeping man&rsquo;s pantaloons and
on the arms of his <i>camisa</i>. The sacristan awoke at last, rubbed
his good eye, and, in a very bad humor, reproached the man.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I would like to order a mass said, se&ntilde;or,&rdquo;
replied he in a tone of excuse.</p>

<p>&ldquo;They have already finished all the masses,&rdquo; said the
one-eyed man, softening his accent a little. &ldquo;If you want it for
to-morrow.... Is it for souls in Purgatory?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No, se&ntilde;or;&rdquo; replied the peasant, giving him a
<i>peso</i>.</p>

<p>And looking fixedly in his one eye, he added:</p>

<p>&ldquo;It is for a person who is going to die soon.&rdquo; And he
left the sacristy. &ldquo;I could have seized him last night,&rdquo; he
added, sighingly as he removed the plaster from his neck. And he
straightened up and regained the stature and appearance of Elias. <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb235" href="#pb235">235</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#xd0e6522src" id="xd0e6522">1</a></span> A plant (<i>Desmodium
caresceus</i>), the dry seeds of which cling to the clothing.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch37" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Vae Victis!</h2>

<p>Civil Guards were passing with a sinister air to and fro in front of
the door of the tribunal, threatening with the butts of their guns the
daring boys who stood on tip-toe or raised each other up in order to
look through the grates in the windows.</p>

<p>The <i>sala</i> did not present that same joyful aspect as it did
when the program for the festival was being discussed. It was gloomy
and the silence was almost death-like. The Civil Guards and the <i>
cuaderilleros</i> who were occupying the room scarcely spoke and the
few words that they did pronounce were in a low tone. Around the table
sat the <i>directorcillo</i>, two writers and some soldiers scribbling
papers. The <i>alferez</i> walked from one side to the other, looking
from time to time ferociously toward the door. Themistocles after the
battle of Salamis could not have shown more pride at the Olympic games.
Do&ntilde;a Consolacion yawned in one corner of the room, and disclosed
her black palate and her crooked teeth. Her cold and evil look was
fixed on the door of the jail, covered with indecent pictures. Her
husband, made amiable by the victory, had yielded to her request to be
allowed to witness the interrogation and, perhaps, the tortures which
were to follow. The hyena smelled the dead body, she licked her chops
and was wearied at the delay in the punishment.</p>

<p>The <i>gobernadorcillo&rsquo;s</i> chair, that large chair under the
portrait of His Majesty, was empty and seemed destined for some other
person.</p>

<p>At nearly nine o&rsquo;clock, the curate, pale and with eyebrows
knit, arrived.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, you haven&rsquo;t made any one wait!&rdquo; said the
<i>alferez</i> sarcastically to the friar. <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb236" href="#pb236">236</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;I would have preferred not to be present,&rdquo; replied
Father Salv&iacute;, in a low voice, without taking notice of the
bitter tone.... &ldquo;I am very nervous.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;As no one came, I decided that, in order not to leave the
chair empty, your presence.... You already know that the prisoners are
to leave town this afternoon.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Young Ibarra and the <i>teniente mayor?</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> pointed toward the jail.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Eight are in there,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Bruno died last
night at midnight, but his declaration has been obtained.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The curate saluted Do&ntilde;a Consolacion, who responded with a
yawn and an &ldquo;aah!&rdquo; The friar took the big chair under the
picture of His Majesty.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We can begin,&rdquo; said he.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bring out the two who are in the stocks!&rdquo; ordered the
<i>alferez</i> in his most terrifying voice. And turning to the curate,
he added, changing his tone:</p>

<p>&ldquo;They are fastened in the stocks with two holes
vacant!&rdquo;</p>

<p>For those who are interested in instruments of torture, we will say
that the stocks is one of the most innocent. The holes in which are
fastened the legs of the prisoner are a little more or less than a palm
apart. Leaving two holes vacant, and putting the prisoner&rsquo;s legs
in the holes on either side, would make the position strained, so that
the ankles would suffer peculiarly and the lower extremities be
stretched apart more than a yard. It does not kill instantly, as may
well be imagined.</p>

<p>The turnkey, followed by four soldiers, drew back the bolt and
opened the door. A nauseating odor, and the thick, damp air escaped
from the dense darkness of the prison and, at the same time, groans and
sighs were heard. A soldier lighted a match, but the flame was
extinguished in that foul, vitiated atmosphere, and they had to wait
till the air was renewed.</p>

<p>In the vague light of a candle, several human forms could be
discerned. They were men, some of whom locked their arms around their
knees and hid their heads between them, others were lying down, with
their mouths to the ground, some standing, and some leaning against the
wall. A blow and a creaking sound was heard, accompanied by oaths; the
stocks were being opened. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb237" href=
"#pb237">237</a>]</span></p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion&rsquo;s body was bent forward, the muscles
of her neck were rigid, her eyes riveted to the half open door.</p>

<p>Between the soldiers came out Tarsilo, the brother of Bruno. He wore
handcuffs. His torn clothes disclosed well-developed muscles. His eyes
were fixed insolently on the <i>alferez&rsquo;s</i> wife.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This is the one who defended himself most bravely, and who
ordered his companions to flee,&rdquo; said the <i>alferez</i> to
Father Salv&iacute;.</p>

<p>Behind came another miserable sight, a man crying and weeping like a
child. He was limping and his pantaloons were stained with blood.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Mercy, se&ntilde;or, have mercy! I will not enter the <i>
cuartel</i> yard again,&rdquo; he cried.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is a crafty fellow,&rdquo; said the <i>alferez</i>,
speaking to the curate. &ldquo;He wanted to flee, but had received a
flesh wound.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; asked the <i>alferez</i>, speaking
to Tarsilo.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tarsilo Alasigan.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What did Don Crisostomo promise you for attacking the <i>
cuartel</i>?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Crisostomo has never communicated with us.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t deny it! You wanted to surprise us for
him!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are mistaken. You whipped our father to death. We avenged
him and nothing more. Look for your two soldiers!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> looked at the sergeant, surprised.</p>

<p>&ldquo;They are at the bottom of that precipice. We threw them there
yesterday. There they will rot. Now kill me! You will know nothing
more.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Silence and general surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are not going to tell who were your accomplices?&rdquo;
said the <i>alferez</i> in a threatening manner and brandishing a
whip.</p>

<p>A scornful smile curled the lips of the culprit.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> conferred for some minutes with the curate in a
low voice. Then turning to the soldiers, he ordered:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take him to where the dead bodies are!&rdquo;</p>

<p>In a corner of the yard, upon an old wagon, were five <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb238" href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>bodies close
together and half covered by a filthy piece of torn matting. A soldier
on guard was pacing up and down, and constantly spitting.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you recognize them?&rdquo; asked the <i>alferez</i>,
lifting the matting.</p>

<p>Tarsilo did not respond. He saw the dead body of Pedro, with two
others; one, his own brother, riddled with bayonet wounds, and the
other, Lucas, with the rope still around his neck. His look became
gloomy and a sigh seemed to escape from his breast.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know them?&rdquo; they asked him.</p>

<p>Tarsilo remained silent.</p>

<p>There was a whistling sound and the whip came down across his back.
He trembled, and his muscles contracted. The lashes were repeated, but
Tarsilo continued impassive.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let them whip him till they cut him to pieces or till he
makes a declaration,&rdquo; cried the <i>alferez</i>, exasperated.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Speak then!&rdquo; said the <i>directorcillo</i> to him.
&ldquo;They will surely kill you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They led him back to the <i>sala</i> of the tribunal, where the
other prisoner was invoking God, grating his teeth and shaking on his
legs.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know this man?&rdquo; asked Father Salv&iacute;.</p>

<p>&ldquo;This is the first time I have ever seen him,&rdquo; replied
Tarsilo, looking with a certain pity on the other.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> gave him a cuff with his fist and kicked him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tie him to the bench!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Without taking off the bloody handcuffs, he was fastened to the
wooden bench. The unhappy fellow looked about him as if in search of
some one, and his eyes fell on Do&ntilde;a Consolacion. He smiled
sardonically. Those present were surprised and followed his glance and
saw the se&ntilde;ora. She was biting her lips.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have never seen an uglier woman,&rdquo; exclaimed Tarsilo
amid the general silence. &ldquo;I prefer to lie down on this bench as
I am doing than to lie by her side, like the <i>alferez</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The Muse turned pale.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are going to whip me to death, <i>alferez</i>,&rdquo; he
continued, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb239" href=
"#pb239">239</a>]</span>&ldquo;but to-night I will be avenged by your
woman.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Gag him!&rdquo; shouted the <i>alferez</i>, furious and
trembling with rage.</p>

<p>It seemed as though Tarsilo had wanted the gag, for when he had it
in his mouth, his eyes gleamed with a ray of satisfaction.</p>

<p>At a signal from the <i>alferez</i> a guard, armed with a whip,
began his cruel task. The whole body of Tarsilo shrank. A groan,
suppressed and prolonged, could be heard in spite of the rag which
stopped up his mouth. He lowered his head. His clothes were being
stained with blood.</p>

<p>Father Salv&iacute;, pale and with a wild look, rose to his feet
laboriously, made a sign with his hand and left the <i>sala</i> with
vacillating steps. In the street, he saw a girl, leaning her back
against the wall, rigid, immovable, listening attentively, looking into
space, her marble-like hands extended along the old wall. The sun was
shining full upon her. She was counting, it seemed without breathing,
the sharp blows and listening to that heart-rending groan. She was
Tarsilo&rsquo;s sister.</p>

<p>In the meantime, the scene was continuing in the <i>sala</i>. The
unfortunate fellow, overcome with pain, had become silent and waited
for his punishers to tire. At last, the soldier breathless, let fall
his arm. The <i>alferez</i>, pale with wrath and astonishment, made a
signal for them to unloose him.</p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Consolacion then arose and whispered something into her
husband&rsquo;s ear. He nodded his head, signifying that he
understood.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To the well with him!&rdquo; said he.</p>

<p>The Filipinos know what that means. In Tagalog they call it <i>
timbain</i>. We do not know who could have been the inventor of this
method of punishment, but we are of the opinion that he must have lived
long ago. In the middle of the tribunal yard there was a picturesque
stone-wall, roughly made out of cobble stones, around a well. A rustic
apparatus of bamboo in the form of a lever serves to draw out the vile,
dirty and bad smelling water. Broken dishes, refuse and all sorts of
filth collected there, since the well was a common receptacle for
everything <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb240" href=
"#pb240">240</a>]</span>that the people threw away or found useless. An
object which fell into the place, no matter how good it may have been,
was thereafter surely lost. However, the well was never closed up. At
times, prisoners were condemned to go down and make it deeper, not
because it was thought that the work would be useful in any way, but
because the work was so difficult. If a prisoner went down in the well
once, he invariably contracted a fever, from which he died.</p>

<p>Tarsilo contemplated all the preparations of the soldiers with a
firm look. He was very pale and his lips were trembling or murmuring a
prayer. The haughtiness of his desperation seemed to have disappeared,
or at least to have weakened. A number of times he bent his head, fixed
his eyes on the ground, resigned to his suffering.</p>

<p>They took him to one side of the stone wall. Do&ntilde;a Consolacion
followed smiling. The unfortunate wretch glanced enviously toward the
pile of dead bodies, and a sigh escaped from his breast.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Speak now!&rdquo; said the <i>directorcillo</i> again.
&ldquo;They will certainly drown you. At least, die without having
suffered so much.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;When you come out of this, you will die,&rdquo; said a <i>
cuaderillero</i>.</p>

<p>They took the gag out of his mouth and hung him by his feet. He had
to go down head first and remain under the water some time just like a
bucket, except that a man is left under the water a longer time.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> went to look for a watch that he might count the
minutes.</p>

<p>In the meantime, Tarsilo was hanging, his long hair waving in the
air and his eyes half closed.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If you are Christians, if you have hearts,&rdquo; he begged,
in a low voice, &ldquo;let me down rapidly and make my head strike
against the wall that I may die. God would reward such a good deed....
Perhaps some day you will be in the same straits as I am
now.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> returned and with watch in hand witnessed the
descent.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Slowly, slowly!&rdquo; cried Do&ntilde;a Consolacion
following the poor fellow with her eyes. &ldquo;Be careful!&rdquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb241" href="#pb241">241</a>]</span></p>

<p>The pole was being lowered slowly. Tarsilo rubbed against the
projecting stones and the dirty plants which grew in the crevices.
Then, the pole ceased to move. The <i>alferez</i> was counting the
seconds.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Up!&rdquo; he ordered dryly, at the end of a half minute.</p>

<p>The silvery harmony of the drops of water falling back into the
well, announced the return of the unfortunate man to the light. As the
weight on the end of the lever was heavy, he came up quickly. The rough
pieces of stone and pebbles, torn loose from the walls, fell with
splashes to the bottom.</p>

<p>His face and hair full of filthy mud, his body wet and dripping, he
appeared again in the sight of the silent crowd. The wind made him
shiver with cold.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you want to make a declaration?&rdquo; they asked him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take care of my sister!&rdquo; the unhappy one murmured,
looking at the <i>cuaderillero</i>, with supplication.</p>

<p>The bamboo pole creaked again, and again the condemned man
disappeared. Do&ntilde;a Consolacion observed that the water remained
still. The <i>alferez</i> counted a minute.</p>

<p>When Tarsilo came up again, his face was livid and his features
contracted. He glanced at those standing around and kept open his
bloodshot eyes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Will you make a declaration?&rdquo; asked the <i>alferez</i>
again, with vexation.</p>

<p>Tarsilo shook his head and again they let him down. His eyelids were
almost closed and his eyes were gazing at the white clouds floating in
the heavens. He bent his neck to keep sight of the light of day, but he
was soon submerged in the water. That filthy curtain closed from him
the sight of the world.</p>

<p>A minute passed. The Muse saw large bubbles of air come up to the
surface of the water.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He is thirsty,&rdquo; said she, laughing.</p>

<p>The water was again smooth.</p>

<p>This time a minute and a half had passed when the <i>alferez</i>
gave the signal.</p>

<p>Tarsilo&rsquo;s features were no longer contracted. The half opened
lids showed the white of his eyes. Muddy water, clotted with blood, ran
out of his mouth. The cool wind was blowing, but his body no longer
shivered. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb242" href=
"#pb242">242</a>]</span></p>

<p>Those present, pale and terrified, looked at each other in silence.
The <i>alferez</i> made a signal for them to take him down from where
he was hanging, and stepped aside for a few moments. Do&ntilde;a
Consolacion a number of times applied the lighted end of her cigar to
the bare legs of Tarsilo, but his body did not quiver. It put out the
light.</p>

<p>&ldquo;He has asphyxiated himself,&rdquo; murmured a <i>
cuaderillero</i>. &ldquo;See how his tongue is turned, as if he wanted
to swallow it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The other prisoner, trembling and perspiring, contemplated the
scene. Like a madman he looked about him.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> ordered the <i>directorcillo</i> to question
him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;or, Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; he groaned. &ldquo;I will
tell you all that you wish.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Good. Let us see! What is your name?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Andong, Se&ntilde;or!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Bernardo ... Leonardo ... Ricardo ... Educardo. Gerardo ...
or what?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Andong, Se&ntilde;or,&rdquo; repeated the imbecile.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Call it Bernardo or whatever you please,&rdquo; said the <i>
alferez</i>, decided not to bother more about it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What family name?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The man looked at him frightened.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name? What do you add to the name
Andong?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, Se&ntilde;or! Andong Medio-tonto (half-fool),
Se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Those standing around could not resist a laugh. The <i>alferez</i>
himself stopped short.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is your business?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Cocoanut tree pruner, Se&ntilde;or, and servant for my
mother-in-law.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who ordered you to attack the <i>cuartel</i>?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Nobody, Se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that; nobody? Don&rsquo;t you lie or we will put
you in the well. Who ordered you to do it? Speak the truth.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the truth, Se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb243" href=
"#pb243">243</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;I ask you who ordered you to revolt.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What revolt, Se&ntilde;or?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That one last night, when you were in the tribunal
yard.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah, Se&ntilde;or!&rdquo; exclaimed Andong, blushing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who was to blame for that?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My mother-in-law, Se&ntilde;or.&rdquo;</p>

<p>A laugh of surprise followed this reply. The <i>alferez</i> stopped
and looked sharply at the simple peasant, who believed that his words
had produced a good effect. More animated, he was about to continue
when the crack of a whip cut him short.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To the jail!&rdquo; ordered the <i>alferez</i>. &ldquo;This
afternoon, send him to the capital.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb244" href="#pb244">244</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch38" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVIII.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Accursed.</h2>

<p>The news that the prisoners were going to depart spread quickly
through the town. At first, the news was heard with terror; afterward,
came tears and lamentations.</p>

<p>The members of the families of the prisoners were running about
madly. They would go from the convent to the <i>cuartel</i> from the
<i>cuartel</i> to the tribunal, and not finding consolation anywhere,
they filled the air with cries and moans. The curate had shut himself
up because he was ill. The <i>alferez</i> had increased his guards, who
received the supplicants with the butts of their guns. The <i>
gobernadorcillo</i>, a useless being, anyway, seemed more stupid and
useless than ever.</p>

<p>The sun was burning hot, but none of the unhappy women who were
gathered in front of the <i>cuartel</i> thought of that. Doray, the gay
and happy wife of Don Filipo, wandered about, with her tender little
child in her arms. Both were crying.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Get out of the sun,&rdquo; they said to her. &ldquo;Your son
will catch a fever.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the use of his living if he has no father to educate
him?&rdquo; replied the dispirited woman.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your husband is innocent. Perhaps he will return.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, when we are in our graves.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Capitana Tinay wept and cried for her son, Antonio. The courageous
Capitana Maria gazed toward the small grate, behind which were her
twins, her only sons.</p>

<p>There, too, was the mother-in-law of the cocoanut tree pruner. She
was not crying; she was walking to and fro, gesticulating, with shirt
sleeves rolled up, and haranguing the public.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have you ever seen anything equal to it?&rdquo; said she.
&ldquo;They arrest my Andong, wound him, put him in the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb245" href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>stocks, and take
him to the capital, all because he happened to be in the <i>cuartel</i>
yard.&rdquo;</p>

<p>But few people had any sympathy for the Mussulman mother-in-law.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don Crisostomo is to blame for all of this,&rdquo; sighed a
woman.</p>

<p>The school teacher also was wandering about in the crowd. &Ntilde;or
Juan was no longer rubbing his hands, nor was he carrying his yard
stick and plumb line. He had heard the bad news and, faithful to his
custom of seeing the future as a thing that had already happened, he
was dressed in mourning, mourning for the death of Ibarra.</p>

<p>At two o&rsquo;clock in the afternoon, an uncovered cart, drawn by
two oxen, stopped in front of the tribunal.</p>

<p>The cart was surrounded by the crowd. They wanted to destroy it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do that!&rdquo; said Capitana Maria. &ldquo;Do
you want them to walk?&rdquo;</p>

<p>This remark stopped the relatives of the prisoners. Twenty soldiers
came out and surrounded the cart. Then came the prisoners.</p>

<p>The first was Don Filipo; he was tied. He greeted his wife with a
smile. Doray broke into a bitter lamentation and two soldiers had to
work hard to keep her from embracing her husband. Antonio, the son of
Captain Tinay, next appeared, crying like a child&mdash;a fact which
made the family cry all the more. The imbecile, Andong, broke out in a
wail when he saw his mother-in-law, the cause of his misfortune.
Albino, the former seminary student, came out with his hands tied, as
did also the twin sons of Capitana Maria. These three youths were
serious and grave. The last who came was Ibarra. The young man was
pale. He looked about for the face of Maria Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is the one who is to blame!&rdquo; cried many voices.
&ldquo;He is to blame and he will go free.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My son-in-law has done nothing and he is
handcuffed.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra turned to the guards.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Tie me, and tie me well, elbow to elbow,&rdquo; said he.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We have no orders.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb246" href="#pb246">246</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Tie me!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The soldiers obeyed.</p>

<p>The <i>alferez</i> appeared on horse-back, armed to the teeth. Ten
or fifteen more soldiers followed him.</p>

<p>Each of the prisoners had there in the crowd his family praying for
him, weeping for him, and calling him by the most affectionate names.
Ibarra was the only exception. Even &Ntilde;or Juan himself and the
school-teacher had disappeared.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What have you done to my husband and my son?&rdquo; said
Doray to Ibarra, crying. &ldquo;See my poor boy! You have deprived him
of a father!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The grief of the people was changed to wrath against the young man,
accused of having provoked the riot. The <i>alferez</i> gave orders to
depart.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are a coward!&rdquo; cried the mother-in-law of Andong to
Ibarra. &ldquo;While the others were fighting for you, you were hiding.
Coward!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Curses upon you!&rdquo; shouted an old man following him.
&ldquo;Cursed be the gold hoarded up by your family to disturb our
peace! Curse him! Curse him!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;May they hang you, heretic!&rdquo; cried one of
Albino&rsquo;s relatives. And unable to restrain himself, he picked up
a stone and threw it at Ibarra.</p>

<p>The example was quickly imitated, and a shower of dust and stones
fell on the unfortunate youth.</p>

<p>Ibarra suffered it all, impassive, without wrath, without a
complaint&mdash;the unjust vengeance of suffering hearts. This was the
leave-taking, the &ldquo;adios&rdquo; tendered to him by his town, the
center of all his affections. He bowed his head. Perhaps he was
thinking of another man, whipped through the streets of Manila, of an
old woman falling dead at the sight of the head of her son. Perhaps the
history of Elias was passing before his eyes.</p>

<p>The cort&eacute;ge moved slowly on and away.</p>

<p>Of the persons who appeared in a few opened windows, those who
showed the most compassion for the unfortunate young man were the
indifferent and the curious. All his friends had hidden themselves;
yes, even Captain Basilio, who forbade his daughter Sinang to weep.</p>

<p>Ibarra saw the smouldering ruins of his house, of the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb247" href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>house of his
fathers where he had been born, where he had lived the sweetest days of
his infancy and childhood. Tears, for a long time suppressed, burst
from his eyes. He bowed his head and wept, wept without the consolation
of being able to hide his weeping, tied as he was by the elbows. Nor
did that grief awaken compassion in anybody. Now he had neither
fatherland, home, love, friends or future.</p>

<p>From a height a man contemplated the funeral-like caravan. He was
old, pale, thin, wrapped in a woollen blanket and was leaning with
fatigue on a cane. It was old Tasio, who as soon as he heard of what
had happened wanted to leave his bed and attend, but his strength would
not permit it. The old man followed with his eyes the cart until it
disappeared in the distance. He stood for some time, pensive and his
head bowed down; then he arose, and laboriously started on the road to
his house, resting at every step.</p>

<p>The following day, shepherds found him dead on the very threshold of
his solitary retreat. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb248" href=
"#pb248">248</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch39" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIX.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Maria Clara is Married.</h2>

<p>Captain Tiago was very happy. During all this terrible time nobody
had busied himself with him. They had not arrested him, nor had they
submitted him to excommunications, court trials, electrical machines,
continual hot foot baths in subterranean places, or to any of the other
punishments which are well known to certain people who call themselves
civilized. He had returned to his Manila house. Those who had been the
Captain&rsquo;s friends&mdash;for he had renounced all his Filipino
friends from the moment that they were suspected by the
Government&mdash;had also returned to their homes after some days of
vacation spent in the Government buildings. The Governor General had
himself ordered these people to leave their possessions, for he had not
thought it fitting that they should remain in them during the great
danger.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago was overflowing with gratitude, but he did not know
exactly to whom he was indebted for such signal favors. Aunt Isabel
attributed the miracle to the Virgin of Antipolo, to the Virgin of the
Rosary, or at least to the Virgin of Carmen. The least that she would
concede was that it was due to Our Lady of Corea. According to the
Aunt, the miracle was certainly due to one of these Virgins. Captain
Tiago did not deny that it was a miracle, but he added:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not believe, Isabel, that the Virgin of Antipolo could
have done it alone. My friends have aided in it; my future son-in-law,
Se&ntilde;or Linares has, as you know, joked with Se&ntilde;or Antonio
Canovas himself, whose portrait we saw in
&lsquo;Illustracion.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>And the good man could not suppress a smile every time that he heard
any important news about the event. And there was good reason for it.
It was whispered about that Ibarra was going to be hanged; that, even
if many proofs <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb249" href=
"#pb249">249</a>]</span>had been lacking, at last one had appeared
which could confirm the accusation; and that skilled workmen had
declared that, as a matter of fact, the work for the school-house could
pass for a fort or a fortification. Even if defective in some parts,
that was as much as could be expected from ignorant Indians. These
rumors quieted the Captain and made him smile.</p>

<p>Just as the Captain and his cousin, Aunt Isabel, were of different
opinions about the miracle, so, too, the other friends of the family
were divided into different parties&mdash;those who followed the
miracle monger, and those who followed the Government. The latter
party, however, was quite insignificant. The miracle mongers were
sub-divided into other factions: the Sacristan Mayor of Binondo, the
woman who sold the wax candles, and the chief of one of the
brotherhoods, all saw the hand of God in the miracle, moved by the
Virgin of the Rosary. The Chinese candle maker, who provided the
Captain whenever he went on a pilgrimage to Antipolo, was saying as he
sat fanning himself and wiggling his foot:</p>

<p>&ldquo;What for you b&rsquo;long foolish? Thisee belong Mergin
Antipolo. She can do muchy more: others, no can do. No b&rsquo;long
plopper say pidgin b&rsquo;long other man.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Captain Tiago held the Chinaman in great estimation and made him
pass for a prophet and doctor. Examining the hand of his deceased wife
in the sixth month of her pregnancy, he had prophesied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;If thisee one no b&rsquo;long man, and no go dead side, will
b&rsquo;long bery good woman.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And so it was that Maria Clara came to this earth and fulfilled the
Chinaman&rsquo;s prophecy.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago, being a prudent and timid person, could not decide
the question of the miracle as easily as the Trojan Paris. He could not
give preference to one of the Virgins for fear of offending some other
of them, a thing which might bring about grave results.
&ldquo;Prudence,&rdquo; he said to himself. &ldquo;Be prudent! Let us
not lose all now.&rdquo;</p>

<p>He was in the midst of these doubts when the party in favor of the
Government, or the Governmental party, arrived, viz., Do&ntilde;a
Victorina, Don Tiburcio, and <span class="corr" id="xd0e7115" title=
"Source: Linars">Linares</span>. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb250"
href="#pb250">250</a>]</span></p>

<p>Do&ntilde;a Victorina did all the talking for the three men and for
herself also. She mentioned the visits which Linares had made to the
Governor General, and repeatedly brought out the benefits derived from
having a relative of <i>categor&iacute;a</i>.</p>

<p>For some days past, she had been trying to be Andalusian by
suppressing the <i>d</i> in all words and in changing the <i>s</i> to
<i>z</i>. No one could get the idea out of her head; she would prefer
to lose her front curls first.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, in speaking of Ibarra. &ldquo;That
fellow merits very well all that he is going to get. I told you so when
I saw him for the first time. I told you he was a <i>filibustero</i>.
What did the General tell you, cousin? What did he say? What news did
you give him about Ibarra?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Seeing that the cousin hesitated in his reply, she went on,
directing her words to Captain Tiago.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Believe me, if they convict him, as is to be hoped, it will
be through my cousin.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Se&ntilde;ora, Se&ntilde;ora!&rdquo; protested Linares.</p>

<p>But she did not give him any time.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Oh, what a diplomat you have turned out to be! But we all
know that you are the adviser of the Governor General, that he could
not live without you. Ah! What a pleasure to see you,
Clarita.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara seemed paler than ever, although she was now quite
recovered from her illness. Sadly smiling, she approached and greeted
Do&ntilde;a Victorina with a formal kiss.</p>

<p>After the customary words had been exchanged, Do&ntilde;a went on
with her false Andalusian.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We came to visit you. You have been saved by the efforts of
your friends,&rdquo;&mdash;looking significantly at Linares.</p>

<p>&ldquo;God has protected my father,&rdquo; said the girl, in a low
voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, Clarita, but the time for miracles has passed long ago.
As we Spaniards say: &lsquo;Have no trust in the Virgin and save
yourself by running.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The&mdash;th&mdash;the ot&mdash;ot&mdash;other way,&rdquo;
said the doctor, correcting her proverbial quotation.</p>

<p>Captain Tiago, who had not yet found opportunity to say a word,
ventured to ask her, giving much attention <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb251" href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>to her reply: &ldquo;So you,
Do&ntilde;a Victorina, believe that the Virgin...?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That is precisely what we came for, to speak to you about <i>
the</i> Virgin,&rdquo; replied she, indicating Maria Clara. &ldquo;We
have a matter to talk over.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The maiden understood that she ought to retire. She sought an excuse
and went away, supporting herself on the furniture as she walked
along.</p>

<p>What was said in the conference which followed was so low and mean
that we prefer to omit it. It is sufficient for us to say that when
they took their leave all were happy, and that Captain Tiago afterward
said to his cousin:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Isabel, send word to the restaurant that we are going to give
a <i>fiesta</i> to-morrow. You get Maria ready to be married in a short
time.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Aunt Isabel looked at him, surprised.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You will see! When Se&ntilde;or Linares is our son-in-law all
the palaces will be open to us. They will be envying us; they will all
die with envy.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And thus it was that at eight o&rsquo;clock on the following
evening, Captain Tiago&rsquo;s house was again full of guests, only
that this time the men whom he had invited were either Spaniards or
Chinamen, while the fair sex was represented by Spaniards born in the
Peninsula or in the Philippines.</p>

<p>The larger part of our acquaintances was there: Father Sibyla,
Father Salv&iacute; and several other Franciscans and Dominicans, the
old lieutenant of the Civil Guard, Se&ntilde;or Guevara, more
melancholy than ever; the <i>alferez</i>, who related his battle for
the thousandth time, feeling himself head and shoulders above everybody
and a veritable Don Juan de Austria, now a lieutenant with the rank of
commander; De Espada&ntilde;a, who looked at the former with respect
and fear and avoided his glance; and the indignant Do&ntilde;a
Victorina. Linares was not yet present, for, being a very important
personage, it was fitting that he should arrive later than the
others.</p>

<p>Maria Clara, the subject of all the gossip, was the center of a
group of women. She had greeted and received them ceremoniously, but
did not throw off her air of sadness. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb252" href="#pb252">252</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Psh!&rdquo; said one of the girls. &ldquo;A little
stuck-up!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A cute little thing,&rdquo; replied another, &ldquo;but he
might have selected some one of a more intelligent
appearance.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the money; he&rsquo;s a good-looking fellow and
sells himself for a good price.&rdquo;</p>

<p>In another part of the room they were talking like this:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Marry, when her former betrothed is about to be
hanged!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I call that prudence; to have one on hand as a
substitute.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Possibly the young maiden heard these remarks as she sat in a chair
near by, arranging a tray of flowers, for her hand was seen to tremble,
she turned pale and bit her lips a number of times.</p>

<p>The conversation among the men was in a loud tone. Naturally, they
were conversant with the recent happenings. All were talking, even Don
Tiburcio, with the exception of Father Sibyla, who maintained a
disdainful silence.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have heard that Your Reverence leaves the town, Father
Salv&iacute;?&rdquo; asked the newly made lieutenant, now made more
amiable by the star on his sleeve.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have nothing more to do now in San Diego. I am permanently
settled in Manila now ... and you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I also leave the town,&rdquo; replied the former <i>
alferez</i>, straightening up. &ldquo;The Government needs me to take
command of a flying column to clear the provinces of <i>
filibusteros</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Friar Salv&iacute; looked him over from head to foot, and turned his
back to him completely.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it yet known for a certainty what is to become of the
leader of the revolutionists?&rdquo; asked a Government employee.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you referring to Crisostomo Ibarra?&rdquo; asked another.
&ldquo;What is most probable and most just is that he be hanged, as
those were in &rsquo;72.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He will be exiled,&rdquo; said the old lieutenant, dryly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Exiled! Nothing more than exiled! But it will be a perpetual
exile!&rdquo; exclaimed several at the same time.</p>

<p>&ldquo;If that young fellow,&rdquo; Lieutenant Guevara went on to
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb253" href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>say
in a loud voice, &ldquo;had been more cautious; if he had trusted
certain people less with whom he had correspondence; and if the
officers had not made a subtle interpretation of what was
written&mdash;if it had not been for all of this, that young man would
surely have gone free.&rdquo;</p>

<p>This statement by the old lieutenant and the tone of his voice
produced a great surprise in the room. Those who heard it did not know
what to say. Father Salv&iacute; looked in another direction, perhaps
so as not to meet the dark look which the old man directed toward him.
Maria Clara dropped her flowers and sat motionless. Father Sibyla, the
one who knew how to keep silent, appeared to be the only one who knew
how to ask questions.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you referring to the letters, Se&ntilde;or
Guevara?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am telling what the defendant&rsquo;s attorney told me. He
has taken up the case with zeal and interest. Aside from some ambiguous
lines which this young man wrote to a young woman before departing for
Europe, they have found no proof to sustain the accusation. In these
few lines, the officers saw a plan and threat against the
Government.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And what about the declaration made by the bandit before he
died?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;That statement has proved of no account, since, according to
the bandit himself, the conspirators never had communicated with the
young man, but only with one, Lucas, who was Ibarra&rsquo;s enemy, as
they have been able to prove, and who committed suicide, perhaps from
remorse. It has been proved that the papers found in the possession of
the dead man were forged, since the handwriting was like that of Ibarra
seven years ago, but not like that of to-day&mdash;a fact which shows
that it was copied from the letter used as evidence against him.
Besides, his attorney says that if Ibarra had not admitted the
genuineness of the letter, he would have been able to do much for him;
but, at the sight of it, the young man turned pale, lost heart and
acknowledged that he had written it.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you say,&rdquo; asked a Franciscan, &ldquo;that the letter
was directed to a young woman? How did it get into the hands of the
officers?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The lieutenant did not reply. He looked for a moment <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb254" href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>at Friar
Salv&iacute; and then walked off, twisting nervously the end of his
grey beard. In the meantime, others were commenting something like
this:</p>

<p>&ldquo;There you see the hand of God!&rdquo; said one. &ldquo;Even
the women hate him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He had his house burned, thinking that he could thus save
himself. But he did not reckon with his host&mdash;that is, with his
<i>querida</i>,<a class="noteref" id="n254src" href="#n254">1</a> with
his <i>babai</i>,&rdquo;<a class="pseudonoteref" href="#n254">1</a>
added another, smiling. &ldquo;That is God&rsquo;s work. Santiago
protects Spain!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old army officer stopped and approached Maria Clara. She was
listening to the conversation, immovable in her seat. The flowers were
at her feet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are a very prudent young woman,&rdquo; said the old
lieutenant to her in a low voice. &ldquo;You have done well to hand
over the letter.... In this way you will assure yourself of a peaceful
future.&rdquo;</p>

<p>With dull eyes, and biting her lips, she looked at him as he walked
away. Luckily, Aunt Isabel passed her at this moment. Maria Clara
summoned enough strength to catch hold of her aunt&rsquo;s dress.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Aunt,&rdquo; she murmured.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you?&rdquo; asked the latter,
frightened, as she saw the young woman&rsquo;s face.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Take me to my room!&rdquo; she begged, clinging to the arm of
the old woman in order to raise herself to her feet.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you sick, my child? You seem to have lost all your
strength. What is the matter with you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;A little sick to my stomach ... the crowd in the <i>sala</i>
... so much light ... I need to rest. Tell father that I am going to
sleep.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are cold! Do you want some tea?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara shook her head negatively. She closed the door of her
room and locked it, and, her strength failing her, she fell to the
floor, at the feet of an image, weeping and sobbing:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Mother, mother, my mother!&rdquo;</p>

<p>The moonlight was shining through the open window and door which led
out upon the <i>azotea</i>.</p>

<p>The orchestra continued playing gay waltzes. The laughter and the
hum of conversation could be heard in <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb255" href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>her bedroom. A number of times her
family, Aunt Isabel, Do&ntilde;a Victorina, and even Linares, knocked
at her door, but Maria Clara did not move. There was a rattle in her
throat.</p>

<p>Hours passed. The pleasures of the table ended, and dancing
followed. Her little candle burned out, but the maiden lay quietly on
the floor, the rays of moonlight shining upon her at the foot of an
image of the Mother of Jesus.</p>

<p>Gradually the noises in the house died away, the lights were put
out, and Aunt Isabel again knocked at the door of her room.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Let us leave her; she is sleeping,&rdquo; said her aunt.
&ldquo;At her age, with nothing to trouble her, she sleeps like a
corpse.&rdquo;</p>

<p>When all was again silent, Maria arose slowly and glanced around
her. She saw the <i>azotea</i> and the small climbing plants bathed in
the melancholy light of the moon.</p>

<p>&ldquo;A peaceful future! Sleeping like a corpse!&rdquo; she
murmured in a low voice, and turned toward the <i>azotea</i>.</p>

<p>The city was quiet. Only the noise of an occasional carriage passing
over the wooden bridge could be heard in the stillness of the night,
while the tranquil waters of the river were reflecting the
moonlight.</p>

<p>The maiden raised her eyes to the pure, sapphire-colored sky. Slowly
she took off her rings, her hair-combs, her earrings, and her
breast-pin, and placing them upon the balustrade of the <i>azotea</i>
she looked out toward the river.</p>

<p>A <i>banca</i>, loaded with rice grass, stopped at the foot of the
landing on the bank of the river at the rear of the house. One of the
two men who were propelling the boat went up the stone steps, leaped
over the wall, and a few seconds afterward, steps were heard coming up
the <i>azotea</i>.</p>

<p>Maria Clara saw him stop on discovering her, but it was for only a
moment. The man advanced slowly and at about three steps from the
maiden, stopped again. Maria Clara stepped back.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Crisostomo!&rdquo; she gasped, full of terror.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am Crisostomo!&rdquo; replied the young man, in a
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb256" href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>grave
voice. &ldquo;An enemy, a man who has good reason to hate me, Elias,
has helped me out of the prison into which my friends had thrown
me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Silence followed these words. Maria Clara bowed her head and allowed
both her hands to drop at her side.</p>

<p>Ibarra continued:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Beside the dead body of my mother, I swore to make you happy,
whatever might be my destiny. You can break your oath; she was not your
mother. But I, who am her son, I hold her memory sacred, and, running
great risk, I have come here to fulfill my oath. Fortune permits me to
speak with you personally. Maria, we shall not see each other again.
You are young and perhaps some day your conscience may accuse you.... I
come to tell you, before leaving, that I forgive you. Now, may you be
happy, and good-bye!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra tried to leave, but the maiden stopped him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Crisostomo!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;God has sent you to save
me from desperation.... Hear me and judge me!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra wished to withdraw gently from her.</p>

<p>&ldquo;I have not come,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;to call you to
account.... I have come to give you peace.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I do not want the peace which you give me. I will give myself
peace. You despise me, and your contempt will make my life bitter till
death.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra saw the poor girl&rsquo;s desperation, and asked her what she
desired.</p>

<p>&ldquo;That you may believe that I have always loved you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Crisostomo smiled bitterly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Ah! You doubt me, you doubt the friend of your infancy, who
has never hidden a single thought from you,&rdquo; exclaimed she in
grief. &ldquo;I understand you. When you know my history, the history
which they revealed to me during my illness, you will pity me and you
will no longer answer my grief with that bitter smile. Why did you not
let me die in the hands of my ignorant doctor? You and I would have
been happier then.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara rested a moment and then continued:</p>

<p>&ldquo;You have doubted me; you have wished my mother to pardon me.
During one of those nights of suffering, a man revealed to me the name
of my true father, and forbade <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb257"
href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>me to love you ... unless my true father
should pardon you for the offense you committed against him.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra recoiled and looked in terror at the maiden.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;This man told me that he
could not permit our marriage, since his conscience would not allow it,
and he would find himself compelled to publish the truth at the risk of
causing a great scandal, because my father is ...&rdquo;</p>

<p>And she whispered a name in the young man&rsquo;s ear in a scarcely
audible voice.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What was I to do? Ought I to sacrifice to my love the memory
of my mother, the honor of the man who innocently supposes himself my
father, and the good name of my real father? Could I do that without
you despising me for it?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But the proof? Have you proof? You need proof!&rdquo;
exclaimed Crisostomo, deeply agitated.</p>

<p>The maiden drew two letters from her bosom.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Two of my mother&rsquo;s letters: two letters written in
remorse before I was born. Take them, read them and you will see how
she cursed me and desired my death, which my father in vain tried to
cause by drugs. These letters were forgotten in the house where he
lived; a man found them and kept them. They would only give them to me
in exchange for your letter ... to make certain, as they said, that I
would not marry you without the consent of my father. From the time
that I began to carry them in my bosom instead of your letter, my heart
was chilled. I sacrificed you, I sacrificed my love.... What would not
a person do for a dead mother and two living fathers? Did I suspect the
use to which they were going to put your letter?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra was prostrated. Maria Clara went on:</p>

<p>&ldquo;What was there left for me? Could I tell you who was my
father? Could I ask you to seek the pardon of him who had so much
desired my death, and who made your father suffer? There was nothing
left for me but to keep the secret to myself, and to die suffering....
Now, my friend, you know the sad history of your poor Maria. Will you
still have that contemptuous smile for her?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Maria, you are a saint.&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb258" href="#pb258">258</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;I am happy now that you believe me.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;However,&rdquo; added the young man, changing his tone.
&ldquo;I have heard that you are about to marry.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; sobbed the maiden. &ldquo;My father asked this
sacrifice of me. He has fed me and loved me, and it was not his duty. I
pay him this debt of gratitude which I owe him by assuring him peace
through this new relative, but ...&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;But?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I shall not forget the oaths of fidelity which I made to
you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;What do you think of doing?&rdquo; asked Ibarra, trying to
read her eyes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The future is obscure and Destiny is hidden in darkness. I do
not know what I am to do; but I know that I can love only once, and
that without love I never will belong to any one. And you, what is to
become of you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;I am nothing but a fugitive.... I am fleeing. In a very short
time, they will discover my escape, Maria....&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara clasped her arms about her lover&rsquo;s neck, kissed
his lips repeatedly, hugged him, and then, abruptly breaking away from
him, said:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Flee! flee! <i>Adios!</i>&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra looked at her, his eyes sparkling, but she motioned and he
went away, staggering like a drunken man. Again he leaped over the wall
and entered the <i>banca</i>. Maria Clara, leaning on the door casing,
watched him depart.</p>

<p>Elias took off his hat and bowed profoundly. <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb259" href="#pb259">259</a>]</span></p>

<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" href=
"#n254src" id="n254">1</a></span> Both words mean mistress.</p>
</div>
</div>

<div id="ch40" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XL.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">The Pursuit on the Lake.</h2>

<p>&ldquo;Listen, Se&ntilde;or, to my plan,&rdquo; said Elias, as they
directed the <i>banca</i> toward San Miguel. &ldquo;I will for the
present hide you in the house of my friend in Mandaluyong. I will bring
you all your money, which I have saved and kept for you at the foot of
the old <i>balit&icirc;</i> tree, in the mysterious tomb of your
grandfather. You shall leave the country.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;To go to a strange land?&rdquo; interrupted Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To live in peace the remaining days of your life. You have
friends in Spain, you are rich, you can get yourself pardoned. By all
means, a foreign land is better for you than your own
country.&rdquo;</p>

<p><span class="corr" id="xd0e7441" title="Source: Crisosotomo">
Crisostomo</span> did not reply. He meditated in silence.</p>

<p>Just then they reached the Pasig and the <i>banca</i> was headed up
the stream. Over the Bridge of Spain a horse-man was galloping at high
speed, and a prolonged, sharp whistle was heard.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Elias,&rdquo; replied Ibarra, &ldquo;you owe your misfortunes
to my family; you have saved my life twice; I owe you not only
gratitude, but also restitution of your fortune. You advise me to go to
a foreign land and live; then come with me and we will live like
brothers. Here, you, too, are miserable.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias sadly replied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Impossible! It is true that I can neither love nor be happy
in my country; but I can suffer and die in it, and perhaps die for it;
that would be something. Let my country&rsquo;s misfortune be my own
misfortune. Since no noble thought unites us, and since our hearts do
not beat in harmony at the mention of a single word, at least, let a
common misery unite me to my fellow countrymen; <span class="pagenum">
[<a id="pb260" href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>at least, let me weep with
them over our grief; let the same misery oppress all our
hearts.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then why do you advise me to leave?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because in other lands you can be happy, and I cannot;
because you are not made to suffer, and because you would hate your
country, if some day you should see the cause of your misfortune: and
to hate one&rsquo;s own country is the greatest misery.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are unjust to me,&rdquo; exclaimed Ibarra, with bitter
reproach. &ldquo;You forget that I have scarcely arrived here, and that
I have already sought its welfare.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not be offended, Se&ntilde;or. I am not reproaching you.
Would to God that all might imitate you. But I do not ask for the
impossible and you should not be offended if I tell you that your heart
deceives you. You love your country because your father has taught you
to love it; you love it because you had in it your love, your fortune,
your youth; because it smiled on you, and because it has not until now
done you an injustice. You love your country as we all love that which
makes us happy. But, on that day when you see yourself poor, ragged,
hungry, persecuted, denounced and betrayed by your very countrymen, on
that day you will curse yourself, your country and all.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Your words grieve me,&rdquo; said Ibarra, resentfully.</p>

<p>Elias bowed his head, meditated and replied:</p>

<p>&ldquo;I wish to set you right, Se&ntilde;or, and to avoid a
miserable future for you. You remember the time when I was talking to
you in this same <i>banca</i> and under the light of the same moon. It
was a month ago, a few days more or less. Then you were happy. The plea
of the unfortunates did not reach you. You disdained their complaints
because they were complaints from criminals. You gave ear to their
enemies, and, in spite of my reasons and pleas, you put yourself on the
side of their oppressors. On you depended at that time whether I should
turn criminal or allow my life to be taken in fulfillment of my sacred
pledge. God has not permitted it, because the old chief of the bandits
has been killed. A month has passed and now you think
differently.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are right, Elias, but man is influenced by changes <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb261" href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>in
circumstances. Then I was blind, and obstinate. What did I know? Now
misfortune has torn the veil from my eyes. The solitude and misery of
my prison life have taught me; now I see the horrible cancer which is
sapping the life of society, which hangs to its flesh and which
requires violent extirpation. They have opened my eyes; they have made
me see the ulcer; they force me to become a criminal. I will be a <i>
filibustero</i>, but a true <i>filibustero</i>. I will call upon all
the unfortunates, on all who have beating hearts within their breasts,
on all who sent you to me.... No, no! I will not be criminal! It is
never a crime to fight for one&rsquo;s country! We for three centuries
have given them our hand, we have asked them for their love, we have
anxiously wished to call them our brothers. How have they replied? With
insults and jests, denying us even the quality of being human beings.
There is no God, there is no hope, there is no humanity. There is
nothing but the right of force.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Ibarra was excited. His whole body was trembling.</p>

<p>They passed by the Governor General&rsquo;s palace, and believed
they saw agitation and movement among the guards.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Have they discovered our flight?&rdquo; murmured Elias.
&ldquo;Lie down, Se&ntilde;or, so that I can cover you up with the
grass, for, when we cross over to the side of the river near the powder
house, the sentry may be surprised at seeing two of us in this small
<i>banca</i>.&rdquo;</p>

<p>As Elias had foreseen, the sentry stopped him and asked him where he
came from.</p>

<p>&ldquo;From Manila, with grass for the magistrates and
curates,&rdquo; replied he, imitating the accent of one from
Pandakan.</p>

<p>A sergeant came out and was informed what was going on.</p>

<p>&ldquo;<i>Sulung!</i>&rdquo; (Go on!) said he. &ldquo;I warn you not
to receive any one in your <i>banca</i>. A prisoner has just escaped.
If you capture him and hand him over to me I will give you a good
reward.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All right, Se&ntilde;or. What is his description?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;He wears a frock coat and speaks Spanish. With that much, be
on the watch!&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb262" href=
"#pb262">262</a>]</span></p>

<p>The <i>banca</i> went on. Elias turned his face and saw the shadow
of the sentry, still standing on the bank of the river.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We will lose several minutes,&rdquo; said he, in a low voice.
&ldquo;We will have to go up the Beata river in order to carry out my
pretense of being from Pe&ntilde;a Francia.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The town was sleeping in the light of the moon. Crisostomo arose to
admire the sepulchral peace of Nature. The river was narrow and its
banks formed a plain planted with rice.</p>

<p>Elias threw the load on the bank, picked up a piece of bamboo and
drew out from under the grass in the <i>banca</i> some empty sacks.
They went on rowing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You are master of your own will, Se&ntilde;or, and of your
own future,&rdquo; said he to Crisostomo, who kept silent. &ldquo;But
if you will permit me to offer a suggestion, I say to you: Look well at
what you are going to do. You are about to start a war, for you have
money, talent, and you will quickly find aid, for, unfortunately, many
are discontented. Furthermore, in this fight, which you are to begin,
those who are going to suffer most are the defenseless, the innocent.
The same sentiments which a month ago prompted me to come to you and
ask for reforms, are those which now move me to ask you to reflect. The
country, Se&ntilde;or, is not thinking of separating itself from the
mother country. It asks only a little liberty, a little justice, a
little love. The discontented will assist you, the criminals and the
desperate, but the people will hold aloof. You are mistaken if, seeing
everything dark, you believe that the country is desperate. The country
suffers, yes, but it still hopes, believe me, and will only rise in
revolt when it has lost patience; that is, when those who govern wish
it&mdash;which is still far off. I myself would not follow you. I shall
never take recourse to these extreme remedies while I see hope in
men.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then I will go without you!&rdquo; replied Crisostomo,
resolutely.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Is it your firm decision?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes, my firm and only decision: I call to witness the memory
of my father! I cannot allow them to deprive <span class="pagenum">[<a
id="pb263" href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>me of peace and happiness with
impunity, I who have desired only my country&rsquo;s welfare, I who
have respected all and have suffered on account of a hypocritical
religion, on account of love for my country. How have they responded to
me? By burying me in an infamous prison and by prostituting my
fianc&eacute;e. No, not to avenge myself would be a crime. It would be
encouraging them to commit new injustices. No! it would be cowardice,
it would be pusillanimity to weep and groan while there is life and
vigor, when to insult and challenge are added scoffery and contemptuous
ridicule! I will arouse this ignorant people, I will make them see
their misery&mdash;this people who do not think of each other as
brothers, who are mere wolves devouring each other. I will tell them to
rise against this oppression and appeal to the eternal right of mankind
to conquer their liberty!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Innocent people will suffer.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;All the better! Can you lead me to the mountain?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Till you are safe!&rdquo; replied Elias.</p>

<p>They again went up the Pasig. They spoke from time to time of
indifferent things.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Santa A&ntilde;a!&rdquo; murmured Ibarra. &ldquo;Do you
recognize that house?&rdquo;</p>

<p>They passed by the country house of the Jesuits.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There I passed many happy and joyful years!&rdquo; sighed
Elias. &ldquo;In my time we used to come here every month ... then I
was like the others. I had fortune, family; I was dreaming and planning
a future for myself. In those days I used to visit my sister in the
neighboring convent. She made me a present of a piece of her own
handiwork. A girl friend used to accompany her, a beautiful girl. All
has passed like a dream.&rdquo;</p>

<p>They remained silent till they arrived at Malapad-na-bat&oacute;.
Those who have glided over the bosom of the Pasig on one of those
magical nights when the moon pours forth its melancholy poetry from the
pure blue of the sky, when the darkness hides the misery of men and
silence drowns the harsh accents of their voices, when Nature alone
speaks&mdash;those who have seen such nights on the Pasig will
understand the feelings which filled the hearts of both young men.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb264" href="#pb264">264</a>]</span></p>

<p>In Malapad-na-bat&oacute; the carbineer was half asleep, and, seeing
that the <i>banca</i> was empty and offered no booty for him to seize,
according to the traditional custom of his corps and the use made of
that position, he readily let them pass on.</p>

<p>Nor did the Civil Guard at Pasig suspect anything, and they were not
molested.</p>

<p>It was just beginning to dawn when they reached the lake, calm and
smooth as a gigantic mirror. The moon was growing dim and the Orient
was rosy with the tints of morning. At a distance, a mass of grey could
be discerned advancing toward the <i>banca</i>.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The <i>fal&uacute;a</i> (or Government steamboat) is
coming,&rdquo; murmured Elias. &ldquo;Lie down and I will cover you
with these sacks.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The outline of the vessel became more clear and perceptible.</p>

<p>&ldquo;She is putting in between the beach and us,&rdquo; observed
Elias uneasily.</p>

<p>And then he changed the course of the <i>banca</i> a little, rowing
toward Binangonan. To his great surprise he noticed that the <i>
fal&uacute;a</i> was also changing its course, while a voice cried out
to him.</p>

<p>Elias stopped and meditated. The shore of the lake was very far off,
and they would soon be in the range of the rifles on the <i>
fal&uacute;a</i>. He thought of returning to the Pasig. His <i>
banca</i> was swifter than the <i>fal&uacute;a</i>. But fate was
against him! Another boat was coming up the Pasig, and they could see
the helmets and shining bayonets of the Civil Guards.</p>

<p>&ldquo;We are caught!&rdquo; he murmured, turning pale.</p>

<p>He looked at his robust arms and taking the only course which
remained to him, he began to row with all his strength toward the
Island of Talim. In the meantime, the sun had risen.</p>

<p>The <i>banca</i> glided along rapidly. Elias saw some men standing
up on the <i>fal&uacute;a</i>, making signals to him.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you know how to manage a <i>banca</i>?&rdquo; he asked
Ibarra.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Yes; why?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Because we are lost if I do not leap into the water <span
class="pagenum">[<a id="pb265" href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>and make
them lose the trail. They will follow me. I swim and dive well.... I
will take them away from you, and then you can save
yourself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;No; you remain and we will sell our lives dearly.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Useless! We have no arms, and with those rifles they will
kill us like birds.&rdquo;</p>

<p>At that moment a <i>chiss</i> was heard in the water like the fall
of a hot body, and was followed immediately by a report.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you see?&rdquo; said Elias, putting his paddle in the <i>
banca</i>. &ldquo;We will see each other again at the tomb of your
grandfather on <i>Nochebeuna</i> (Christmas eve.) Save
yourself.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;And you?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;God has taken me through greater dangers.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Elias took off his <i>camisa</i>. A ball grazed his hands and the
report sounded out. Without being disturbed, he stretched out his hand
to Ibarra, who was still in the bottom of the boat. Then he arose and
leaped into the water, pushing away the small craft with his foot.</p>

<p>A number of cries were heard. Soon at some distance the head of the
young man appeared above the water as if to get breath, dropping out of
sight at the next instant.</p>

<p>&ldquo;There, there he is!&rdquo; cried a number of voices, and the
balls from their rifles whistled again.</p>

<p>The <i>fal&uacute;a</i> and the other <i>banca</i> took up the
chase. A light track of foam marked his course, every moment leading
farther and farther away from Ibarra&rsquo;s <i>banca</i>, which
drifted along as if abandoned. Every time that the swimmer raised his
head to breathe the Civil Guards and the men on board the <i>
fal&uacute;a</i> discharged their guns at him.</p>

<p>The pursuit continued. Ibarra&rsquo;s little <i>banca</i> was
already far off. The swimmer was approaching the shore of the lake and
was now some fifty yards distant from it. The rowers were already
tired, but Elias was not, for his head often appeared above the water
and each time in a different direction so as to disconcert his
pursuers. No longer was there a light trail to betray the course of the
diver. For the last time they saw him near the shore, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb266" href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>some ten yards
off, and they opened fire.... Then minutes and minutes passed. Nothing
appeared again on the tranquil surface of the lake.</p>

<p>Half an hour afterward one of the rowers pretended to have
discovered signs of blood in the water near the shore, but his
companions shook their heads in a manner which might mean either yes or
no. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb267" href=
"#pb267">267</a>]</span></p>
</div>

<div id="ch41" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> [<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>

<h2 class="label">Chapter XLI.</h2>

<h2 class="normal">Father D&aacute;maso Explains.</h2>

<p>In vain the costly wedding gifts were heaped upon the table. Neither
the diamonds in their blue velvet caskets, nor the embroidered <i>
pi&ntilde;a</i>, nor the pieces of silk had any attractions for Maria
Clara. The maiden looked at the paper which gave the account of
Ibarra&rsquo;s death, drowned in the lake, but she neither saw nor read
it.</p>

<p>Of a sudden, she felt two hands over her eyes. They held her fast
while a joyous voice, Father D&aacute;maso&rsquo;s, said to her:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Who am I? Who am I?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara jumped from her seat and looked at him with terror in
her eyes.</p>

<p>&ldquo;You little goose, were you frightened, eh? You were not
expecting me? Well, I have come from the provinces to attend your
wedding.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And coming up to her again with a smile of satisfaction, he
stretched out his hand to her. Maria Clara approached timidly and,
raising it to her lips, kissed it.</p>

<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with you, Maria?&rdquo; asked the
Franciscan, losing his gay smile, and becoming very uneasy. &ldquo;Your
hand is cold, you are pale.... Are you ill, my little girl?&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Father D&aacute;maso drew her up to him with a fondness of which
no one would have thought him capable. He grasped both the
maiden&rsquo;s hands and gave her a questioning look.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you any confidence in your godfather?&rdquo; he
asked in a reproachful tone. &ldquo;Come, sit down here and tell me
your little troubles, just as you used to do when you were a child,
when you wanted wax-candles to make wax figures. You surely know that I
have always loved you.... I have never scolded you....&rdquo;</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso&rsquo;s voice ceased to be brusque; its
modulations <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb268" href=
"#pb268">268</a>]</span>were even caressing. Maria Clara began to
weep.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Are you weeping, my child? Why are you weeping? Have you
quarrelled with Linares?&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara covered her eyes with her hands.</p>

<p>&ldquo;No! It is not he now!&rdquo; cried the maiden.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso looked at her full of surprise.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you not want to entrust your secrets to me? Have I not
always managed to satisfy your smallest caprices?&rdquo;</p>

<p>The young woman raised her eyes full of tears toward him. She looked
at him for some time, and then began to weep bitterly.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do not cry so, my child, for your tears pain me! Tell me your
troubles. You will see how your godfather loves you.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara approached him slowly and fell on her knees at his feet.
Then raising her face, bathed in tears, she said to him in a low voice,
scarcely audible:</p>

<p>&ldquo;Do you still love me?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Child!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Then ... protect my father, and break off the
marriage!&rdquo;</p>

<p>Then she related her last interview with Ibarra, omitting the
reference to her birth.</p>

<p>Father D&aacute;maso could scarcely believe what he heard.</p>

<p>&ldquo;While he lived,&rdquo; continued the maiden, &ldquo;I
intended to fight, to wait, to trust. I wanted to live to hear him
spoken of ... but now that they have killed him, now there is no reason
for my living and suffering.&rdquo;</p>

<p>She said this slowly, in a low voice, calmly and without a tear.</p>

<p>&ldquo;But, you goose; isn&rsquo;t Linares a thousand times better
than....?&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;When he was living, I could have married ... I was thinking
of fleeing afterward ... my father wanted nothing more than the
relative. Now that he is dead, no other man will call me his wife....
While he lived, I could have debased myself and still had the
consolation of knowing that he existed and perhaps was thinking of me.
Now that he is dead ... the convent or the tomb.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Her voice had a firmness in its accent which took away Father
D&aacute;maso&rsquo;s joy and set him to thinking. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb269" href="#pb269">269</a>]</span></p>

<p>&ldquo;Did you love him so much as that?&rdquo; he asked,
stammering.</p>

<p>Maria Clara did not reply. Father D&aacute;maso bowed his head upon
his breast and remained silent.</p>

<p>&ldquo;My child!&rdquo; he exclaimed, his voice breaking.
&ldquo;Forgive me for making you unhappy without knowing it. I was
thinking of your future; I wanted you to be happy. How could I permit
you to marry a native; how could I see you an unhappy wife and a
miserable mother? I could not get your love out of your head, and I
opposed it with all my strength. All that I have done has been for you,
for you alone. If you had become his wife, you would have wept
afterward on account of the condition of your husband, exposed to all
kinds of vengeance, without any means of defense. As a mother, you
would have wept over the fortune of your sons; if you educated them,
you would prepare a sad future for them, you would have made them
enemies of the Church and would have seen them hanged or exiled; if you
left them ignorant, you would have seen them oppressed and degraded. I
could not consent to it! This is why I sought as a husband for you one
who might make you the happy mother of sons born not to obey but to
command, not to suffer but to punish. I knew that your friend was good
from infancy. I liked him as I had liked his father, but I hated them
both when I saw that they were going to make you unhappy, because I
love you, I idolize you, I love you as my daughter. I have nothing
dearer than you. I have seen you grow. No hour passes but I think of
you; I dream of you; you are my only joy.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And Father D&aacute;maso began to weep like a child.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Well, then, if you love me do not make me eternally unhappy.
He no longer lives; I want to be a nun.&rdquo;</p>

<p>The old man rested his head on his hand.</p>

<p>&ldquo;To be a nun, to be a nun!&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;You do
not know, my child, the life, the misery, which is hidden behind the
walls of the convent. You do not know it! I prefer a thousand times to
see you unhappy in the world than to see you unhappy in the cloister.
Here your complaints can be heard, there you will have only the walls.
You are beautiful, very beautiful, and you were not born <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb270" href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>for it, you were
not born to be the bride of Christ! Believe me, my child, time will
blot it all out. Later you will forget, you will love your husband ...
Linares.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;Either the convent or ... death!&rdquo; repeated Maria
Clara.</p>

<p>&ldquo;The convent, the convent or death!&rdquo; exclaimed Father
D&aacute;maso. &ldquo;Maria, I am already old, I will not be able to
watch you or your happiness much longer.... Choose another course, seek
another love, another young man, whoever he may be, but not the
convent.&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;The convent or death!&rdquo;</p>

<p>&ldquo;My God, my God!&rdquo; cried the priest, covering his head
with his hands. &ldquo;Thou punisheth me. So be it! But watch over my
child.&rdquo;</p>

<p>And turning to the young woman: &ldquo;You want to be a nun? You
shall be one. I do not want you to die.&rdquo;</p>

<p>Maria Clara took his two hands, clasped them in her own and kissed
them as she knelt.</p>

<p>&ldquo;Godfather, my godfather!&rdquo; she repeated.</p>

<p>Immediately, Father D&aacute;maso went out, sad, with drooping head
and sighing.</p>

<p>&ldquo;God, O God! Thou existeth, for Thou punisheth. But avenge
Thyself on me and do not harm the innocent. Save my child!&rdquo;</p>
</div>
</div>

<div class="back">
<div class="transcribernote">
<h2>Colophon</h2>

<h3>Availability</h3>

<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at <a class="exlink" title="External link"
href="https://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>.</p>

<p>This eBook is produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="exlink" title="External
link" href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>.</p>

<p>This eBook was prepared from the scans of a copy from the University
of California Lbrary made available on <a class="exlink" title=
"External link" href=
"http://www.archive.org/details/friarsfilipinos00rizarich">The Internet
Archive</a>. The same set of scans is also available from <a class=
"exlink" title="External link" href=
"http://books.google.com/books?id=FEdFAAAAIAAJ">Google Print</a>.
Unfortunately, the last page, with the epilogue, is missing from this
copy.</p>

<p>Numerous translations of Jos&eacute; Rizal&rsquo;s <i>Noli me
Tangere</i> work have been made. Available at Project Gutenberg are the
unabridged translation by Charles E. Derbyshire, under the title <i><a
class="pglink" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href=
"https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/6737">The Social Cancer</a></i>,
published in 1912; Another abbreviated translation under the title <i>
<a class="pglink" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href=
"https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/27594">An Eagle Flight</a></i>,
published in 1901; a French translation by Henri Lucas and Ramon Sempau
under the title <i lang="fr"><a class="pglink" title="Link to Project
Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/30211">Au Pays
des Moines</a></i>, published in 1898; A Tagalog translation under the
title <i><a class="pglink" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook"
href="https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/20228">Noli me Tangere</a></i>
published in 1906; finally a Dutch translation by A. A. Fokker, under
the title <i lang="nl"><a class="pglink" title="Link to Project
Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/21848">Noli me
tangere: Filippijnsche roman</a></i>, published in Surabaya in
1912.</p>

<p>Further translations have been made in all the major Philippine
languages, at least four more in English, and in German, Italian,
Japanese, Chinese, and Thai.</p>

<h3>Encoding</h3>

<h3>Revision History</h3>

<ol class="lsoff">
<li>2009-10-15 Started.</li>
</ol>

<h3>External References</h3>

<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These
links may not work for you.</p>

<h3>Corrections</h3>

<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p>

<table width="75%" summary="Overview of corrections applied to the
text.">
<tr>
<th>Page</th>
<th>Source</th>
<th>Correction</th>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e880">16</a></td>
<td width="40%">venders</td>
<td width="40%">vendors</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1173">36</a></td>
<td width="40%">Siblya</td>
<td width="40%">Sibyla</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1527">52</a></td>
<td width="40%">.</td>
<td width="40%">?</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1564">54</a></td>
<td width="40%">sacristian</td>
<td width="40%">sacristan</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e1567">54</a></td>
<td width="40%">commiting</td>
<td width="40%">committing</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2621">100</a></td>
<td width="40%">Tagalo</td>
<td width="40%">Tagalog</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e2669">102</a></td>
<td width="40%">[<i>Not in source</i>]</td>
<td width="40%">&rsquo;</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3319">127</a></td>
<td width="40%">sacristry</td>
<td width="40%">sacristy</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3481">133</a></td>
<td width="40%">a</td>
<td width="40%">[<i>Deleted</i>]</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3491">133</a></td>
<td width="40%">lashs</td>
<td width="40%">lashes</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3620">137</a></td>
<td width="40%">,</td>
<td width="40%">[<i>Deleted</i>]</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e3945">148</a></td>
<td width="40%">Tunason</td>
<td width="40%">Tunasan</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4099">156</a></td>
<td width="40%">huband</td>
<td width="40%">husband</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4380">165</a></td>
<td width="40%">aproaching</td>
<td width="40%">approaching</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4500">172</a></td>
<td width="40%">venders</td>
<td width="40%">vendors</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4555">174</a></td>
<td width="40%">&rsquo;</td>
<td width="40%">&rdquo;</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4657">176</a></td>
<td width="40%">exchange</td>
<td width="40%">exchanged</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e4893">181</a></td>
<td width="40%">&ldquo;</td>
<td width="40%">[<i>Deleted</i>]</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e5092">185</a></td>
<td width="40%">physiogomy</td>
<td width="40%">physiognomy</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e5376">197</a></td>
<td width="40%">detroyed</td>
<td width="40%">destroyed</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e5395">198</a></td>
<td width="40%">ino</td>
<td width="40%">into</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e5454">203</a></td>
<td width="40%">unincumbered</td>
<td width="40%">unencumbered</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e5865">215</a></td>
<td width="40%">Tagalo</td>
<td width="40%">Tagalog</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e6545">234</a></td>
<td width="40%">sacristry</td>
<td width="40%">sacristy</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e7115">249</a></td>
<td width="40%">Linars</td>
<td width="40%">Linares</td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td width="20%"><a class="pageref" href="#xd0e7441">259</a></td>
<td width="40%">Crisosotomo</td>
<td width="40%">Crisostomo</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
</div>


<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30278 ***</div>
</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-06-12 23:38:58 +0000