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 I 
 
Friars«»" Filipinos 
 
 AN ABRIDGED TRANSLATION OF 
 
 DR. JOSE RIZAL'S 
 
 Tagalog Novel, *'Noli Me Tangere. 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK ERNEST GANNETT. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 THE ST. JAMES PRESS. 
 
^^^. *v 
 
 Copyright, 1900V 
 
 by 
 
 FRANK ERNEST GANNETT. 
 
 MENRY MORSE STEPHEf» 
 
TO 
 
 Jacob Gould Schurman, 
 
 Prwidcnt of Cornell Uoivertity. 
 
 511002 
 
Digitized by the Internet Arcinive 
 
 in 2008 witii funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/friarsfilipinosOOrizarich 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 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. Jose Rizal. I found 
 in his novel, "Noli Me Tangere,"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 
 RizaPs 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. 
 
 Readers should not understand any of Rizal'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 super- 
 stition 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. 
 
Yi Preface. 
 
 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 cor- 
 porations, and will make clearer the nature of one of the 
 present problems in the Philippines. 
 
 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 com- 
 paratively ignorant and uncultured. Under the Spanish 
 system of government certain provinces were assigned 
 to each of the orders — except the Jesuits — 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 con- 
 trol 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 edu- 
 cation 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. 
 
 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. 
 
Preface. vii 
 
 Eizal 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 venge- 
 ance, 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. 
 
 For assistance in preparing this volume for publication 
 I offer sincere thanks to William H. Glasson, Ph.D., In- 
 structor 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 indebted- 
 ness 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. 
 
 F E G 
 
 Ithaca, N. Y., Dec. 1, 1900. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Don Santiago's Dinner 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 At the Dinner Table 11 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Heretic and Revolutionist 16 
 
 CHAPTER rV. 
 Captain Tiago 5J8 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 An Idyl on the Azotea 29 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Things Philippine 86 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 San Diego and Its People 40 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Ibarra and the Grave-Digger 47 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Adventures of a School Teacher 51 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Lights and Shadows •••••• 67 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Fishing Party 59 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 In the Woods 08 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 In the House of Tasio 77 
 
The Eve of the Fiesta, 
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. pAo« 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 As Night Comes On 87 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Hoisting Crane 92 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Banquet 104 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The First Cloud 112 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 His Excellency 116 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Procession 125 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Dofia Consolacion 129 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Might and Right 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 Two Visitors 145 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Episode in Espadafia's Life 148 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Schemes 161 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 The Persecuted 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 The Cock Fight 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 The Two Senoras 181 
 
Contents. xi 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. ,.AaE 
 
 The Enigma 188 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 The Voice of the Persecuted 191 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 Elias's Family 200 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 Changes 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXXin. 
 Playing Cards with the Shades 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 The Discovery 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 The Catastrophe 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 What People Say and Think 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVH. 
 Vae Victis! 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVm. 
 The Accursed 244 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 Maria Clara is Married 248 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 The Pursuit on the Lake 259 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 Father Damaso Explains 267 
 
 EPiLOaUB 271 
 
JOSE RIZAL. 
 
 Dr. Jose Rizal, of whose "Noli Me Tangere/' 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 bom, and his 
 memory is cherished to-day by his people as we ourselves 
 cherish the memory of Washington. 
 
 Eizal was bom 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, ac- 
 knowledged a slight mixture of Chinese blood, and pos- 
 sessed considerable property. As a child he gave evi- 
 dence 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. 
 
 After passing through the University of Manila, and 
 receiving much instmction at the hands of the Jesuit 
 fathers, he was sent to Europe to complete his education. 
 He pursued courses of study in Spanish and Geraaan 
 universities, and won the degrees of Doctor of Medicine 
 and Doctor of Philosophy. Besides acquiring a knowl- 
 edge 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. 
 
 While in Europe Rizal wrote several books and also 
 
xiv Jos6 Rizal. 
 
 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. EizaFs best known work is his "Noli Me Tan- 
 gere/' 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 tak- 
 ing of his life. 
 
 In 1889 Dr. Eizal 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 "Noli Me Tangere," entitled "El 
 Filibusterismo," 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's life to be found possessing a copy. Until 
 very recently it has been almost impossible to obtain a 
 copy of RizaFs works, and it was necessary to go to 
 Europe to secure the one from which the following 
 abridged translation was made. 
 
 In 1893 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 groumd that he carried 
 incendiary leaflets for the purpose of stirring up a 
 rebellion, but subsequent inquiries showed that such Imi- 
 
Jose Rizal. xv 
 
 lets had been introduced into his baggage at the custom 
 house through the intrigues of the Augustine friars. De- 
 spite his indignant protestations of innocence ; Rizal was 
 summarily condemned by the Spanish General, Despujols, 
 to banishment at Dapitan in the island of Mindanao. Al- 
 though 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 power- 
 ful religious corporations. 
 
 After four years of exile Rizal saw plainly that the hos- 
 tility 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 tor, 
 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 ar- 
 raigned on false charges, given a military trial, and at 
 the dictation of the religious orders was sentenced to be 
 shot as a traitor. 
 
 At dawn on December 30th, 1896, he was led to the place 
 of execution on the beautiful Luneta, overlooking the tran- 
 quil 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 sol- 
 diers about the spot. The populace must be intimidated. 
 A nation's hero was about to become a nation's martyr. 
 
:nri Jose Rizal. 
 
 .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's 
 army, were selected for the bloody work. They drew i i 
 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 nec- 
 essary to despatch his life. His newly wedded wife re- 
 mained with him to the end. The best hope of the Filipino 
 people was crushed ; a light in a dark place was snuffed out. 
 
 Eizal 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 pro- 
 posed by other Filipino leaders. His execution was only 
 one of the numerous outrages which characterized Spain's 
 reign in the Philippines. 
 
 In closing this short sketch of Eizal'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: 
 
 "Not only is Rizal the most prominent man of his own 
 people, but the greatest man the Malayan race has pro- 
 duced. His memory will never perish in his fatherland, 
 and future generations of Spaniards will yet learn to utter 
 his name with respect and reverence,'^ 
 

 • ' > ' » a » 1 • » " ' J J ' 
 
 FRIARS AND FILIPINOS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 DON Santiago's dinner. 
 
 In the latter part of October, Don Santiago de los 
 Santos, popularly known as Captain Tiago, gave a din- 
 ner. Though, contrary to his custom, he had not an- 
 nounced 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. Cap- 
 tain 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. 
 
 The dinner was given in the captain's house in Ana- 
 loague 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 Bi- 
 nondo Creek. This, like all the streams in Manila, sat- 
 isfies a multitude of needs. It serves for bathing, mor- 
 tar-mixing, laundering, fishing, means of transporta- 
 tion 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 im- 
 passable during the remaining time. 
 
 The house is low and somewhat out of plumb. No one. 
 
2 Frj^rs^ ^nd Filipinos. 
 
 however, knows whether the faulty lines of the building 
 are due to a defect in the sight of the architect who con- 
 structed it, or whether they are the result of earth- 
 quakes and hurricanes. 
 
 A wide staircase, with green balustrades and car- 
 peted here and there in spots, leads from the zaguan, 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 caida. 
 This serves to-night for the dining hall. In the middle 
 of the room is a large table, profusely and richly orna- 
 mented, fairly groaning under the weight of delicacies. 
 
 In direct contrast to these worldly preparations are 
 the motley colored religious pictures on the walls — such 
 subjects as ^Turgatory,'' "Hell," "The Last Judgment,'' 
 "The Death of the Just," and "The Death of the Sin- 
 ner." Below these, in a beautiful renaissance frame, is 
 a large, curious linen engraving of two old ladies. The 
 picture bears the inscription "Our Lady of Peace, Pro- 
 pitious to Travellers, Venerated in Antipolo, Visiting in 
 the Guise of a Beggar the Pious Wife of the Famous 
 Captain Ines in Her Sickness." 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 sola or 
 principal room of the house, where the guests as- 
 sembled is resplendent with colossal mirrors and bril- 
 liant chandeliers, and, upon a platform of pine, is a 
 costly piano of the finest workmanship. 
 
 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 wo- 
 men 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 cov- 
 ering her mouth with her fan. Conversation was car- 
 
Don Santiago's Dinner. 3 
 
 ried on in a low voice and died away in vague mono- 
 syllables, like the indistinct noises heard by night in a 
 large mansion. 
 
 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 cour- 
 tesies consisted in offering to the Spanish ladies cigar- 
 ettes and betel nut (neither of which they use) and in 
 kissing the hands of the native women after the man- 
 ner of the friars. Finally the poor old lady was com- 
 pletely exhausted, and, taking advantage of a distant 
 crash occasioned lay the breaking of a plate, hurried off 
 precipitately to investigate, murmuring: Jesus! Just 
 wait, you good-for-nothings!" 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 Eoman 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. . 
 
 As to the citizens, one of them was email in stature 
 
4 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 and wore a black beard, his most noticeable feature 
 being his large nose — 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 
 litter was carrying on a lively discussion with the 
 Franciscan. 
 
 "You will see," said the friar, "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 Mad- 
 rid and another to rule in the Philippines." 
 
 "But '' 
 
 "I, for example," continued Father Damaso, raising 
 his voice to prevent the other from speaking, "I, who 
 can point to my twenty-three years of existence on ba- 
 nanas and rice, can speak with some authority on this 
 subject. Do not come to me with theories or arguments, 
 for I know the native. Eemember, that when I came to 
 this country, I was sent to a parish, small and largely 
 devot^id 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 after- 
 ward, 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 " 
 
 "But this only shows " 
 
 "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." 
 
 "But allow me '' 
 
 ^^Furthermore, I was twenty years in the town of San 
 Diego and it was only a few months ago — that — 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 wers my own 
 
Don Santiago's Dinner. 5 
 
 child. I knew even the private affairs of them all; I 
 knew in what way this man was 'crooked/ 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 wo- 
 men and some lay brothers saw me off. And that, after 
 I had been there twenty years! Don't you see that this 
 proves beyond a doubt that all the reforms attempted 
 by the Ministers of the Government in Madrid are per- 
 fectly absurd?" 
 
 It was now the young man's turn to be perplexed. 
 The lieutenant, who had been listening to the argu- 
 ment, knit his brows. The little man with the black 
 beard made ready to combat or support Father Da- 
 maso's arguments, while the Dominican was content to 
 remain entirely neutral. 
 
 "But do you believe ," the young man finally 
 
 asked in a curious mood, and looking straight at the 
 friar. 
 
 "Do I believe it? As I do the Gospel! The native 
 is so indolent!" 
 
 "Ah! Pardon me for interrupting you," said the 
 young blonde, lowering his voice and drawing his chair 
 closer, "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 fabri- 
 cation to excuse our own laziness, our backwardness and 
 the faults of our celestial system?" 
 
 "Bah! That is nothing but envy! Ask Senor La- 
 ruja, who knows this country very well, whether the 
 native has his equal in the world for indolence and ig- 
 norance." 
 
 "It is a fact," replied the little man referred to, "that 
 
6 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 nowhere in the world can any one be found more indo- 
 lent than the native. Positively nowhere!" 
 
 "Nor more vicious and ungrateful !" 
 
 "N"or with less education V 
 
 Somewhat uneasy, the blonde man began to glance 
 about the room. "Gentlemen," he said in a low voice, 
 "I believe that we are in the house of a native, and these 
 young ladies may " 
 
 "Bah! Don^t be so sensitive. How long have you 
 been in the country?" 
 
 "Four days," answered the young man somewhat 
 ruffled. 
 
 "Did you come here as an employee?" 
 
 "No, sir. I came on my own account in order to be- 
 come acquainted with the country." 
 
 "Man, what a rare bird you are !" exclaimed Father 
 Damaso, looking at him with curiosity. "To come here 
 on your own account for such foolish ends! What a 
 phenomenon ! And when so many books have been writ- 
 ten about this country " 
 
 Then, striking the arm of his chair with sudden vio- 
 lence, he exclaimed: "The country is being lost; it is lost 
 already. The governing power supports heretics against 
 the ministers of God." 
 
 "What do you mean?" again asked the lieutenant, half 
 rising from his chair. 
 
 "What do I mean?" repeated Father Damaso, again 
 raising his voice, and facing the lieutenant. "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. iVnd yet a general, a miserable little 
 general '' 
 
 "Father! His Excellency is the vice-regal representa- 
 tive of His Majesty the King!" exclaimed the officer, 
 rising to his feet. 
 
 "What do I care for His Excellency, or for any of 
 your vice-regal representatives !" answered the Francis- 
 can, rising in his turn. "In any other time than the 
 present, he would have been thrown down stairs in the 
 same way as the religious corporations treated the sac- 
 
Don Santiago's Dinner. 7 
 
 rilegious governor Bustamente in his time. Those were 
 the days when there was faith!" 
 
 "I'll tell you right here that I don't allow any — His 
 Excellency represents His Majesty the King!" 
 
 "I don't care whether he is king or rogue. For us 
 there is no king other than the true " 
 
 "Stop this immediately!" shouted the lieutenant in a 
 threatening manner, and as though he were commanding 
 his own soldiers. "Take back what you have said, or 
 to-morrow I shall inform His Excellency." 
 
 "Go and tell him at once ! Go tell him !" answered 
 Father Damaso, sarcastically, at the same time ap- 
 proaching the lieutenant with his fists doubled. "Don't 
 you think for a moment that, because I wear the dress 
 of a monk, I'm not a man. Hurry! Go tell him! I'll 
 lend you my carriage." 
 
 The discussion began to grow ridiculous as the speak- 
 ers became more heated, but, at this point, fortunately, 
 the Dominican interfered. 
 
 "Gentlemen !" he said in a tone of authority, and with 
 that nasal twang which is so characterisrie of the friars, 
 "there is no reason why you should thus confuse matters 
 or take offense where it is not intended. We should dis- 
 tinguish between what Father Damaso 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." 
 
 "But I understand what his motives are. Father 
 Sibyla !" 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 Damaso would get off 
 scot free. "I know very well what his motives are, and 
 Your Reverence will also perceive them. During the 
 absence of Father Damaso from San Diego, his assist- 
 ant 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 
 
8 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 who believed in God, who fulfilled his duty to society, 
 who was honorable and just — such a man does not com- 
 mit 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." 
 
 Turning his back on the Franciscan, he continued: 
 "As I was saying, this priest, when he returned to the 
 town, after maltreating his coadjutor, ordered that the 
 man's body be taken up and thrown out of the ceme- 
 tery, 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 Da- 
 maso was transferred to another but better town. That 
 is all there was to it. Now you can make all the distinc- 
 tions you like." 
 
 So saying, he left the group. 
 
 "I am very sorry to have touched upon so delicate a sub- 
 ject," said Father Sibyla, "but, after all, if the change 
 from one town to another was to your advantage ^" 
 
 "How could it be to my advantage? How about all 
 the things that I lost?" interrupted Father Damaso, 
 fairly boiling over with rage. 
 
 "Good evening, gentlemen! Good evening, Father!" 
 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 Damaso, turning pale at the sight, stared at the 
 youth with eyes wide open. 
 
 "I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisos- 
 tomo Ibarra, the son of my deceased friend," said Cap- 
 tain Tiago. "The young man has just arrived from 
 Europe, and I have been to meet him." At the mere 
 mention of the name, exclamations were heard in all 
 parts of the room. The lieutenant, forgetting himself 
 
Don Santiago's Dinner. 
 
 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 vivajuious 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. 
 
 "What !" he exclaimed with glad surprise, "the parish 
 priest of my own town! Father Damaso, my father's 
 intimate friend!" Every one in the room looked at the 
 Franciscan, but the latter made no motion. 
 
 "You must excuse me, if I have made a mistake," 
 added Ibarra, somewhat in doubt because of the apathy of 
 the friar. 
 
 "You have made no mistake," the priest finally an- 
 swered in a strained voice, "but your father was never 
 an intimate friend of mine." 
 
 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 ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 "My boy, are you the son of Don Rafael Ibarra ?" 
 
 The young man bowed in acquiescence. Father Dd- 
 maso settled back into his arm-chair and fixed his eyes 
 upon the lieutenant. 
 
 "Welcome to your country! May you be more happy 
 in it than was your father!" exclaimed the officer in a 
 trembling voice. "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." 
 
 "Sir," replied Ibarra with emotion, "your praise of 
 my father puts me in doubt as to his fate. Even now 
 I, his own son, am ignorant of it all." 
 
 The eyes of the old man filled with tears. He turned 
 
10 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 and hurriedly withdrew. Ibarra found himself standing 
 alone in the middle of the room. His host had disap- 
 peared, and he turned to a group of gentlemen, who, as 
 soon as they saw him coming, formed a semicircle to re- 
 ceive him. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "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 Mag- 
 salin." The others gave their names in turn, of which 
 the most were comparatively unknown. 
 
 "My name is A a," said one of the young men, bow- 
 ing stiffly. 
 
 "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 writ- 
 ing, but no one has told me why." 
 
 "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." 
 
 "And can you not tell us what that true story was?" 
 
 "Yes. The poet said that the son of a lion is also a 
 lion, and for saying this he narrowly escaped being 
 banished." 
 
 "Dinner is ready," announced a waiter who had been 
 borrowed from the Cafe Campaiia. The guests began 
 to file into the dining room, not, however, without many 
 sighs, and even some prayers among the women, espe- 
 cially the natives, that the dreaded affair would soon 
 be over. 
 
At the Dinner Table. 11 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 AT THE DINNER TABLE. 
 
 Father Sibyla wore a satisfied air. He moved along 
 tranquilly, and his closed, thin lips showed no signs of dis- 
 dain. 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. 
 
 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 dis- 
 contentedly for the remainder of the evening. The farce 
 proceeded something like this: 
 
 "You take it. Brother Damaso ! It is for you !" 
 
 "No, you take it. Brother Sibyla !" 
 
 "You are an old friend of the family, the confessor 
 of its deepest mysteries ; your age, your dignity, your " 
 
 "No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the 
 other hand you are the priest of this suburb," answered 
 Father Damaso in an insincere tone, without, however, 
 leaving the chair. 
 
 "As you order it, I obey," concluded Father Sibyla, 
 making ready to sit down. 
 
 "But I do not order it," protested the Franciscan, "I do 
 not order it." 
 
 Father Sibyla was about to take the seat without any 
 further regard to the protests of his brother, when his eyes 
 dianced to meet those of the lieutenant. According to the 
 
12 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 religious customs in the Philippines, the highest military 
 officer is inferior to even a convent cook. "Cedent arma 
 togce/* said Cicero in the Senate. ''Cedent arma cottce/* 
 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's face, said: 
 "Here! We are now out in the w^orld, and not in the 
 Church. This seat belongs to you, lieutenant!'' 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. 
 
 Neither of the disputants had thought of the owner of 
 the house. Ibarra saw him looking upon the scene and 
 smiling with satisfaction. 
 
 "How is this, Don Santiago ! Aren't you going to sit 
 down with us ?'' 
 
 But all of the seats were already occupied, and Lucullus 
 did not dine in the house of Lucullus. 
 
 "Sit still! Don't get up!" said Captain Tiago, laying 
 his hand on the young man's shoulder. "The fact is that 
 this feast is given in honor of the Virgin on account of 
 your safe arrival. Here! Bring on the tinola! I ordered 
 some tinola made expressly for you, for I feel quite certain 
 that you have not had any since you left the Philippines 
 a long while ago." 
 
 A large dish was brought in, still steaming and filled 
 to the brim with tinola. The Dominican, after murmur- 
 ing the Benedicite (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 Damaso a plate filled with 
 the_somL ^nd stew, but conta ining only two_smaU_piece8_ 
 ^ ch icken, a bony neck and a tou gh wing. ^ Meanwhile" 
 tne"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 ap- 
 peared to be absorbed in conversation with the young 
 
At the Dinner Table. 13 
 
 blonde. Senor Laruja had also begun to converse with 
 Ibarra. 
 
 "How long has it been since you were last in this coun- 
 try ;'' eaid he. 
 
 "About seven years," responded Ibarra. 
 
 "You must have forgotten all about it." 
 
 "On the contrary, although my country seems to have 
 forgotten me, I have always kept her in mind." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" interposed the blonde. 
 
 **1 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." 
 
 "Ah !" exclaimed the lieutenant. 
 
 "Where have you been that you did not telegraph?" 
 asked one of the ladies. "When I was married, we tele- 
 graphed to the Peninsula." 
 
 "Senora, for the last two years I have been in northern 
 Europe, in Germany and in Poland." 
 
 "And what country of Europe do you like best?" asked 
 the young blonde, who had been listening interestedly. 
 
 "After Spain, which is my second fatherland, oh — any 
 free country in Europe." 
 
 "You seem to have travelled a great deal — what is the 
 most ri^markable thing that you have observed?" asked 
 Laruja. 
 
 Ibarra appeared to be reflecting on the question. "Ee- 
 markable ? In what way ?" 
 
 "For instance, in the life of the different peoples, — ^their 
 social, political and religious life " 
 
 Ibarra meditated for some little time. "I always made 
 
 it a point to study the history of a country before visiting 
 
 ^it, and I find that national development invariably follows 
 
 * )erfectly natural rules. I have always noticed that the 
 
 )rosperity or poverty of different peoples is in direct pro- 
 
 [ortion to their liberties or their lack of liberty, or, in 
 
 :her words, in proportion to the sacrifices or selfishness 
 
 )f their forefathers." 
 
 "And is that all you have observed?" asked the Fran- 
 ciscan, with a loud laugh. Up to this time, he had not 
 uttered a single word, but had given his attention to the 
 dinner. "It was not worth while to squander your fortune 
 
14 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 for the purpose of learning such a trifle — a thing that 
 every school boy knows." 
 
 Ibarra looked at him intently, doubtful what to say. 
 The guests glanced at each other, fearing that a quarrel 
 would break out. "The dinner has been too long, and 
 Your Reverence is affected by too much wine," Ibarra 
 was about to reply, but he checked himself in time and 
 only said: "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 Eeverence. I de- 
 rive a certain amount of pleasure from it, for I am re- 
 minded of those days when His Reverence was a frequent 
 visitor at our house and honored my father's table." 
 
 The Dominican glanced furtively at the Franciscan, who 
 was trembling. Ibarra continued, rising from his chair: 
 "You will allow me to withdraw, for I have only just ar- 
 rived, 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's to Spain and 
 the Philippines." 
 
 Saying this, he emptied the glass, which, until then, he 
 had not touched. The old lieutenant followed his ex- 
 ample, but said nothing. 
 
 "Do not go V said Captain Tiago to him in a low voice. 
 "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." 
 
 "I shall come to-morrow before I leave. I have to make 
 a most important visit yet to-night, and really must go !" 
 With this he took his departure. In the meantime, the 
 Franciscan had recovered himself. 
 
 "You see how it is," said he to the young blonde, gestic- 
 ulating with his dessert knife. "It is nothing but pride. 
 He could not bear to have a priest reprove him. Can de- 
 cent people believe it? This is the evil consequence of 
 sending young men to Europe. The Government ought 
 to prohibit it." 
 
 That night, the young blonde wrote, among other things, 
 in the first chapter of his "Colonial Studies": "How the 
 
At the Dinner Table. 15 
 
 neck and wing of a chicken in a friar's plate of tinola can 
 disturb the gayety of a feast I" And among his other ob- 
 servations were the following: "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 
 streetj and everything will go along beautifully. In the 
 present state of affairs, it would be well to forbid the Fili- 
 pinos to leave their country, and not to teach them how to 
 read." 
 
16 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HEBETIC AND EEVOLUTIONIST. 
 
 Ibarra was still confused, but the evening breeze, which, 
 in Manila, is at this time of the year always cool and re- 
 freshing, seemed gently to lift the hazy mist which hung 
 over his eyes. He removed his hat and drew a deep, long 
 breath. 
 
 Men of all nationalities passed by in swift carriages or 
 in slow-going, rented calesas. He was walking at that 
 slow pace characteristic alike of deep thought and lazi- 
 ness, and was making his way toward the Plaza of Binondo. 
 He looked about in search of any old and familiar ob- 
 jects. Yes, there were the same old streets, the same old 
 houses with white and blue fronts, the same old walls cov- 
 ered 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. 
 
 "Things go slowly here!" he muttered and continued 
 up the street past the vestry. 
 
 As they dished up flavored ices, the street venders were 
 still crying "sorbettes.'^ The same little cocoanut oil 
 lamps furnished light for the stands where native women 
 and Chinese disposed of their sweetmeats and fruit. 
 
 'It is marvellous,'' he exclaimed. "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's 
 sleep. And, by heavens, they have not yet repaired this 
 broken place in the pavement !" 
 
 Indeed, the stone which had been torn out of the pave- 
 ment before he left Manila had not yet been replaced. 
 
Heretic and Revolutionist. 17 
 
 While lie 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's house. A smile had displaced the officer's 
 usual harsh expression and characteristic frown. 
 
 "Be careful, young man!" said he. "Kemember what 
 happened to your father !" 
 
 "I beg your pardon. You seem to have esteemed my 
 father very highly. Can you tell me what has been his 
 fate?" asked Ibarra, gazing intently into the lieutenant's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Do you not know ?" said the officer. 
 
 "I asked Don Santiago, but he said that he would tell 
 me nothing until to-morrow. Have you no information 
 regarding him?" 
 
 "Why, yes; everybody knows about him. He died in 
 prison." 
 
 The young man stepped back and stared wildly at the 
 officer. "In prison ! Who died in prison ?" he asked in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Why, your father, who had been arrested," answered 
 the officer somewhat surprised. 
 
 "What! My father in prison! Arrested and impris- 
 oned! Man, what are you talking about? Do you know 
 
 who my father was? Are you ?" asked the young 
 
 man, nervously grasping the officer's arm. 
 
 "I don't think that I am mistaken : Don Eaf ael Ibarra." 
 
 "Yes. Don Kafael Ibarra," repeated the young man, 
 scarcely able to utter the words. 
 
 "I thought that you knew it," said the officer, in a sym- 
 pathetic voice, as he saw the emotion his words had caused. 
 "I thought that you knew it; but be brave. Here, you 
 know, no man can be honorable without being impris- 
 oned." 
 
 "I cannot believe that you are not jesting," replied 
 Ibarra, after a few minutes of deep silence. "Can you tell 
 me for what offense he was imprisoned?" 
 
 The old man paused as if to meditate. "It seems 
 strange to me that you have not been kept informed as to 
 the affairs of your family." 
 
18 Friars and Filipinos.' 
 
 ''My fathier's last letter, whicli 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 " 
 
 "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.'' 
 
 "Why was my father arrested?" asked Ibarra in a voice 
 full of emotion. 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 "As you very well know," he at last began, "your father 
 was the richest man in the province, and, although he was 
 loved and highly respected by many, there were some en- 
 vious 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 Damaso, but I do not know what it 
 was all about. Father Damaso 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 re- 
 member. 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 
 Damaso, used to say : 
 
 " 'Senor Guevara, do you believe that God will forgive 
 a crime, a murder for instance, simply because that crime 
 has been confessed to a priest — 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.' Your fatjfier always followed the strictest 
 rules of morality. I may safely say that he never harmed 
 
Heretic and Revolutionist. 19 
 
 any one, but, on the contrary, always sought by doing good 
 to offset certain unjust deeds committed by your grand- 
 fathers. However, his troubles with the priests continued 
 and took on a dangerous aspect. Father Damaso 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 fore- 
 saw that sooner or later the affair would have a bad end- 
 ing." 
 
 The old lieutenant paused for a few minutes and then 
 continued: "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 igno- 
 rance. 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's prestige, but somehow ob- 
 tained 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 be- 
 came 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 
 studpng 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 quick- 
 ly and chased his tormentors. The boys, of course, ran in 
 all directions, at the same time mimicking a child learn- 
 ing the alphabet. Blind with rage because he could not 
 reach them, he threw his cane, struck one of the boys on 
 
20 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 the Head and knocked him down. ISTot conteni with 
 this, he went up and kicked the hoy several times. TJn- 
 fortunately, 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 Eafael 
 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. 
 
 "Nkturally the law stepped in. They showered calum- 
 nies 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 ac- 
 cused. Everybody deserted your father, and his books and 
 papers were seized. He was accused of being a subscriber 
 to *E1 Correo del Ultramar^ and to Madrid newspapers, 
 of having sent you to Germany, of having in his possession 
 incriminating papers and pictures, and — ^well, I don'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 hedging 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 
 
Heretic and Revolutionist. 21 
 
 of Spain — 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/' 
 
 The old man paused to take breath. His young com- 
 panion neither looked up nor made a sound. The narra- 
 tor proceeded : "I took charge of the case for your father. 
 I called upon the celebrated Filipino lawyer, young 
 
 A a, but he refused to undertake the defense. 'I would 
 
 lose the case,' he said, 'my defense would cause new accusa- 
 tions against him, and perhaps bring them upon me. Go 
 and see Senor M , who is an eloquent orator, a Span- 
 iard and a man of great reputation.' I did so, and the 
 celebrated lawyer took charge of the case, which he con- 
 ducted in a masterful and brilliant manner. But youn 
 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 defend- 
 ing attorney, were here given a great deal of weight. As 
 fast as the attorney proved the falsity of their accusa- 
 tions, 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 tulisanes, 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. 
 
 "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'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." 
 
 .The old man had finished all he had to say. Ibarra, 
 
22 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 overcome witK 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 : "My boy. Captain Tiago can 
 give you the details. I must say good night, for my duty 
 calls me.^' With deep emotion, Ibarra grasped the lean 
 hand of the lieutenant, and then looked after him in si- 
 lence until he disappeared in the building. Turning slow- 
 ly about, he saw a carriage passing and made a sign to the 
 cabman. 
 
 "Lala's Hotel,'^ he said in a low voice. 
 
 "This fellow is just out of jail,^' said the cabman to 
 himself as he whipped up his horses. 
 
Captain Tiago. 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAPTAIN- TIAGO. 
 
 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 ex- 
 pression. 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 comers of his lips and 
 destroyed the symmetry of his features. However, despite 
 these habits, both his own teeth and the two that the den- 
 tist had made for him, at twelve pesos each, were well pre- 
 served. 
 
 Tiago was considered one of the richest property own- 
 ers 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 in- 
 creased every yean San Diego was his favorite town on 
 account of its excellent bathing place, its famous cock- 
 pit and the pleasant memories associated with the neigh- 
 borhood. 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. 
 
24 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 able, clevef, 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. 
 
 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 ro- 
 saries, God, in His infinite goodness, for the benefit of the 
 rich, had created poor people — poor people who for a peso 
 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 prom- 
 ises in order to win their favor and convince them of his 
 good intentions. 
 
 Captain Tiago was therefore beloved by the priests, re- 
 spected 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 tent with the modus vivendi, 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 Govern- 
 ment, 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^s days, or when any occasion, such 
 as the death of any of their relatives, or a birth in the 
 
Captain Tiago. 25 
 
 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 *^suave and loving 
 governor'' or the "valiant and mighty alcalde." 
 
 The Captain was a petty governor or gohernadorcillo of 
 a rich colony of mestizos, 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 gohernadorcillo canes. His 
 high hat and frock coat were always in evidence in the 
 city hall, at the Government palace in Melacanan* 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 — and all with wonder- 
 ful activity and with still more wonderful gravity. 
 
 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 
 nipa 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: "See what a 
 different expression she wears, and how plainly she shows 
 evidences of her shame." But such things as these never 
 robbed the Captain of any sleep; no young girl disturbed 
 his rest. 
 
 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 valu- 
 able knowledge which he possessed. About the time when 
 he was to have the happiness of studying logic, the death 
 
 * Street in Manila. 
 
26 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 of his protector, followed by that of his father, put an 
 end to his studies and from that time on he devoted him- 
 self to business. He married a beautiful girl from Santa 
 Cruz, who increased his fortune and gave him a social 
 position. 
 
 Dona Pia Alba was not content with buying sugar, cof- 
 fee 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 
 Damaso and of Don Eafael Ibarra, the richest capitalist 
 of the town. 
 
 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 Dona 
 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 Damaso, 
 she went to Obando, and there danced at the -fiesta of San 
 Pascual Bailon and asked for a son. It is well known 
 that in Obando there is a trinity — Our Lady of Salambau, 
 Santa Clara and San Pascual — which grants sons or 
 daughters as required. Thanks to this wise triumvirate. 
 Dona Pia became a mother, but like the fisherman in Mac- 
 beth, who ceased to sing after he found a rich treasure. 
 Dona 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 Damaso 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, — ^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 Ddmaso paid her much attention. 
 
 Maria Clara did not have the small eyes of her father. 
 
Captain Tiago. 27 
 
 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. 
 
 Aunt Isabel attributed the child's semi-European fea- 
 tures to impressions made upon Dona Pia. She remem- 
 bered having seen the mother a short time before the child 
 was bom, 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* by heart, explained 
 it all by attributing it to the effect of the planets. 
 
 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 mis- 
 chief that Captain Tiago did nothing but bless the saints 
 of Obando and advise everybody to buy handsome statues 
 of that trinity. 
 
 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 Ddmaso in tears, and likewise the only friend of 
 her childhood, Crisostomo Ibarra. Shortly after the en- 
 trance to the convent, Ibarra went to Europe. For seven 
 
 * Archbishop and author of theological works. 
 
28 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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. 
 
 Don Eafael 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 agree- 
 ment, 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 dif- 
 ferent surroundings. 
 
An Idyl on the Azotea. 29 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 AN IDYL ON THE AZOTEA.* 
 
 On the morning after the dinner party, 'Annt Isabel 
 and Maria Clara went to mass early: the former care- 
 fully carrying her glasses, so that she might be able to 
 read **The Anchor of Salvation'' 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. 
 **Never mind," said Maria, to cut off the scolding, "the 
 good God will pardon me. He ought to understand the 
 heart of a girl better than you. Aunt Isabel." 
 
 Aiter 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 *'I believe, Maria, that the doctor is right," said Cap- 
 tain Tiago. ^^ou 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?" 
 
 At the mere mention of the latter name, Maria Clara 
 blushed and was unable to speak. 
 
 ''Now, you and Isabel go to the convent to get your 
 * Roof of the first story used as a veranda. 
 
30 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 'V, 
 
 things and say good bye to your friends," continued tHe 
 Captain, without raising his head. "You will not re- 
 turn there. And in four or five days, when your clothes 
 are ready we shall go to Malabon. — 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." 
 
 "I think you will find San Diego better, cousin," said 
 Aunt Isabel. "Our house there is better than the one 
 in Malabon, and besides, it is nearly time for the fiesta 
 to take place." 
 
 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. 
 
 "That's so," said the Captain, and then, in a changed 
 tone, exclaimed, "Don Crisostomo!" 
 
 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. 
 
 Pale and panting, the girl finally subdued her emo- 
 tion 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's neck and kissed her repeatedly. 
 
 '*You goose! What is the matter with you?" the old 
 lady was finally able to ask, after wiping away her 
 tears. 
 
An Idyl on the Azotea. 31 
 
 Maria Clara, in her modesty, covered her face with 
 her round arm. 
 
 '^Come! Hurry up and get yourself ready I" said the 
 old lady in an affectionate tone. "While he is talking 
 
 with your father about you Come, do not waste 
 
 time!" 
 
 The girl did not respond, but allowed herself to be 
 picked up like a child and carried to her room. 
 
 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 di- 
 rection but at the persons present. At last, however, 
 her eyes met Ibarra's. 
 
 The conversation of the young lovers was at first con- 
 fined 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. 
 
 Finally, she, like all sisters of Cain, was moved by 
 jealously and asked: "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 ?" 
 
 And he, a true brother of Cain, dodged the issue, and, 
 being something of a diplomat, answered: ^'Could I 
 forget you?'* And then, gazing into her deep, dark eyes, 
 "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 — that 
 hand which I have not touched for so long — upon my 
 shoulder, and said: TTou have lost your mother, — I never 
 had one.' 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. — 0, if my 
 parents were only living and could see you now! — That 
 night I took your hand and, joining it with my mother's, 
 I swore always to love you and make you happy, no mat- 
 ter what fate Heaven might have in store for me. I 
 have never regretted that vow, and now renew it/' 
 
32" Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ^'Since the day that I bade you good-bye and entered 
 the convent/' she answered, smiling, '"'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 sihlot and the finest and most 
 oeautifully colored stones for our game of sinkat. You 
 were always very slow and stupid and lost, but you al- 
 ways 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 chouka 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 Athenaeum. 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 sud- 
 denly 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 col- 
 lected 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 remain- 
 der of the way home hand in hand.'' 
 
 Ibarra smiled as he listened attentively to every de- 
 tail of the story. Opening his pocket book, he took out 
 a paper in which he had wrapped some withered but 
 fragrant sage leaves. "Your sage leaves," said he in an- 
 swer to her questioning glance. "The only thing you 
 have ever given me." 
 
 She, in turn, drew a little, white satin bag from the 
 bosom of her dress. "Stop!" she said, tapping his hand 
 
An Idyl on the Azotea. 33 
 
 witH her own. ^TTou must not touch it; it is a letter of 
 farewell." 
 
 ^^The one that I wrote you before leaving?" 
 
 "My dear sir, have you ever written any other?" 
 
 "And what did I say then?" 
 
 "Many falsehoods; excuses of a bad debtor," replied 
 she, smiling and showing how agreeable these false- 
 hoods had been to her. "But be quiet! I will read it 
 to you, but I will omit your polite speeches out of con- 
 sideration for your feelings." 
 
 Eaising the paper to the height of her eyes, in order 
 
 to conceal her face, she began. " *My ,' I shall 
 
 not read you what follows that, for it is not true." She 
 ran her eyes over some lines and began to read again: 
 " 'My father wishes me to go away, in spite of my en- 
 treaties. 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 busi- 
 ness, 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 — as it always lives in the water, it never 
 learns how to endure a moment's heat. — 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: "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 al- 
 ready 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 fu- 
 ture is opening to you, but closing to me. Your loves are 
 being bom; 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." The 
 eyes of my father filled with tears and I fell upon my 
 
34 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 knees ai His feet and embraced him. I asked His pardon 
 and said that I was willing to go/ '' 
 
 The emotion which Ibarra manifested pnt an end to 
 the reading. As pale as death, he arose and began to 
 walk nervously from one side to the other. 
 
 **What is the matter?" she asked. 
 
 "You have made me forget that I have duties to per- 
 form, and that I ought to leave immediately for my 
 town. To-morrow is the fiesta in memory of the dead.'* 
 
 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: 
 "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." 
 
 A few moments later, Ibarra descended the stairs, ac- 
 companied by Captain Tiago and Dona Isabel, while 
 Maria Clara locked herself up in the oratory. 
 
 "Do me the favor to tell Andeng to get the house ready, 
 and that Maria and Isabel are coming. A pleasant 
 journey!" While the Captain was saying this, Ibarra 
 got into the carriage and drove off in the direction of 
 the Plaza of San Gabriel. 
 
 A few minutes later the Captain shouted to Maria 
 Clara, who was weeping by the side of the image of the 
 Virgin: "Hurry up and light two peseta 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 
 reales for wax and six cuartos for oil than to have to 
 pay a big ransom later, on." 
 
Things Philippine. 35 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 THINGS PHILIPPINE. 
 
 Father Damaso drove up in front oi Captain Tiago'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 Damaso, and he, 
 in his preoccupation, gently patted Maria Clara on the 
 cheek. 
 
 "Where are you going?" the friar asked. 
 
 "To the convent to get my things/' replied the younger. 
 
 "Ah, ha ! Ah, ha ! We'll see who is the stronger. We'll 
 see!" he muttered and turaed away, leaving the two 
 women in wonder as to what it all meant. The friar 
 stepped along lightly, and reaching the stairs, went up. 
 
 "He must be studying his sermon," said Isabel. "Get 
 in, Maria ; we shall be late." 
 
 Whether Father Damaso 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 embarrass- 
 ment of the Captain, who had to feign kissing it. 
 
 "Santiago, we have some very important matters to talk 
 over; let us go to your office." 
 
 The Captain, somewhat disturbed, was unable to reply, 
 but he obeyed and followed the big priest into his office. 
 Father Damaso shut the door behind them. 
 
 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, im- 
 mediately after mass, he had gone to the Dominican con- 
 vent, 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 
 
36 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 the treasurer's office, and scarcely answering the defer- 
 ential salute of the treasurer, Father Sibyla went upstairs, 
 crossed several corridors and rapped on a door. 
 
 "Come in V answered a voice. 
 
 "May God give back health to Your Eeverence!" was 
 the greeting of the young Dominican as he entered. 
 
 A very feeble old priest was seated in a large arm-chair. 
 His complexion was as yellow as the saints which Kevera 
 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. 
 
 "I have come to talk to you about the charge with which 
 you have entrusted me," said Father Siblya. 
 
 *^Ah, yes. And what about it?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" answered the young man with disgust, seat- 
 ing himself and turning his face away with disdain. "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." 
 
 "Do you think so ?" 
 
 "Hostilities began last night.'' 
 
 "So soon ? And how did it come about ?'* 
 
 Father Sibyla related briefly what had taken place be- 
 tween Father Damaso and Crisostomo Ibarra. 
 
 "Furthermore," he added, in conclusion, "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." 
 
 The sick man bowed his head as a sign of assent. 'TTes, 
 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." 
 
 Father Sibyla looked at the old man with surprise. 
 
 "That is to say, for the good of our whole corporation,'* 
 he added, breathing with difficulty. "I prefer open attacks 
 to the foolish praise and adulations of friends, for, the 
 truth is, flattery is always paid for." 
 
 "Does Your Reverence think so ?" 
 
 The old man looked at him sadly. "Always bear this in 
 mind," he answered, panting with fatigue, *^that ouc 
 
Things Philippine. 37 
 
 power will endure as long as it is believed in. If they 
 attack ns, the Government says, ^They attack them, be- 
 cause they see in them an obstacle to their liberty, there- 
 fore let us preserve them/ '^ 
 
 "And if the Government gives them a hearing ?. Some- 
 times the Government " 
 
 "The Government will do no such thing/^ 
 
 "Nevertheless, if some bold and reckless man, impelled 
 by covetousness, should dare to think that he wanted our 
 possessions ^* 
 
 "Then, woe to him !" 
 
 For a moment both remained silent. 
 
 "Furthermore,'' continued the sick man, "it will do us 
 good to have them attack us and wake us up. It would 
 show us our weaknesses and strengthen us. The exagger- 
 ated 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." 
 
 "Pshaw ! We shall always have our property, our plan- 
 tations '' 
 
 "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 in- 
 comes from our lands each year, this eagerness to increase 
 the rents, which I have always opposed in vain, this eager- 
 ness will be our ruin. The natives already find them- 
 selves forced to buy land in other localities if they want 
 lands as good as ours. I fear that we are degenerating. 
 'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad.' 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 en- 
 deavor to appear before God with clean hands. May the 
 God of pity have mercy on our weaknesses !" 
 ■ "So you believe that the tax or tribute ^" 
 
 *'Let us talk no more of money!" interrupted the sick 
 
38 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 man witH disgust. *^You were saying that the lieutenant 
 and Father Damaso last night '' 
 
 'TTes, Father/^ answered the young priest smiling. "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 Damaso. *^And 
 your boast to tell the Governor?' I asked jokingly. 
 'Father/ he answered, *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.' " 
 
 After talking over several minor matters. Father Sibyla 
 took his leave. 
 
 As a matter of fact the lieutenant had not gone to the 
 Governor General's palace in Melacanan with any report 
 in regard to the occurrence of the preceding evening. How- 
 ever, the Governor General had learned of it through an- 
 other source, and discussing the matter with one of his 
 aides, he said : 
 
 "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 Pro- 
 vincial 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. 'Tricks of the friars,' as they say in 
 Spain." 
 
 But when His Excellency found himself alone he ceased 
 to smile. ''Ah!" he sighed, "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." 
 
 Meanwhile Captain Tiago had concluded his conference 
 with Father Damaso, or rather Father Damaso had con- 
 cluded it. 
 
 "I have already warned you!" said the Franciscan on 
 taking his leave. "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 
 
Things Philippine. 39 
 
 do any more such foolish things, and have faith in your 
 godfather." 
 
 Captain Tiago took two or three steps towards the sola, 
 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's 
 protection. 
 
 "There is still time enough," he murmured, "for he has 
 a long road to travel." 
 
40 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTEE YIL 
 
 SAN" DIEGO AND ITS PEOPLE. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 the;^ 
 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 nipa, 
 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 hong a tree, every cross. 
 Beyond the town is the crystal river, like a serpent asleep 
 on a carpet ot grppjv^ 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. 
 
 But what always attracts attention is a peninsula •i 
 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 de- 
 gree of awe, for around it have been woven many strange 
 
San Diego and the People. 41 
 
 legends. Of these the most probable, and consequently ' 
 the least known and believed is the following: 
 
 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 difierent 
 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. 
 
 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 
 haliti 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 baliti tree, no one cared to ven- 
 ture near it. All sort of stories became current about the 
 haunted place. 
 
 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. 
 
 Before many months had passed, a youth came to the 
 town one day. He was apparently a Spanish mestizo, de- 
 clared himself the son of the dead stranger, and estab- 
 lished himself in that far-off corner of the world. He be- 
 gan to farm the land and devoted himself especially if 
 
42 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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'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. 
 
 Don Rafael, from his earliest youth, was fond of farm- 
 ing. 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 be- 
 come a puehlo, the native priest died and Fathei: Damaso 
 took his place. 
 
 Still the grave and the adjoining lands were respected. 
 At times, children, armed with sticks and stones, ven- 
 tured to wander about, exploring the surrounding country 
 and gathering guayabas, papays, lomboy and other native 
 fruits. Then, all of a sudden, while they were busily en- 
 gaged collecting the fruits, some one would catch a glimpse 
 of the old rope hanging from the haliti tree, and stones 
 would be heard to fall. Then some one would cry, "The 
 old man!" "The old man!" 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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's stable. All of this is 
 
San Diego and the People. 43 
 
 true, but still when the Captain had his back turned they 
 made fun of him and referred to him as Sacristan Tiago. 
 
 The gobernadorcillo * 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 thou- 
 sand pesos and many humiliations, bu.t, considering the 
 profits he made, the price was very cheap. 
 
 San Diego was like Home ; not the Kome 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 dif- 
 ference — instead of being a city of marble, monuments 
 and coliseums, it was a city of saiuzlif and cock-pits. The 
 parochial priest of San Diego corresponded to the Pope in 
 the Vatican; -the alferez\ of the Civil Guard to the King 
 of Italy in the Quirinal, but both in the same proportion 
 as the sauali or native wood and the nipa cock-pits corre- 
 sponded to the monuments of marble and coliseums. And 
 in San Diego, as in Rome, there was continual trouble. 
 Everybody wanted to be the leading senor, and there was 
 always some one else in the way. Let us describe two of 
 these ambitious citizens. 
 
 Friar Bemando Salvi was the young and silent Fran- 
 ciscan whom we mentioned in a preceding chapter. He 
 had even more of the customs and manners of his brother- 
 hood than had his predecessor, the violent Father Damaso. 
 He was slender, sickly, almost always pensive, and verj* 
 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 "Venerable Third Order," to the great grief of its 
 rival, "The Brotherhood of the Most Sacred Rosary." His 
 heart leaped with joy at seeing on every neck in the town 
 
 * Petty governor, the highest local official. 
 
 t Trellis work made of reeds . 
 
 % Local commaiider of the Civil Guard, 
 
44 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 from four to five scapularies, a knotted cord around every 
 waist, and every funeral procession dressed in habits of 
 guingon. 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. 
 
 The only enemy of this powerful soul saver, with ten- 
 dencies in accord with the times, was, as we have already 
 stated, the alferez. 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 — 
 an honor which the alferez alone enjoyed. But he merited 
 this reputation. He had a wife, an old, powdered and 
 painted Filipino by the name of Dona Consolacion. The 
 husband and several other people called her by a different 
 name, but that does not matter. Anyway, the alferez was 
 accustomed to drown the sorrows of unhappy wedlock by 
 getting as drunk as a toper. Then, when he was thorough- 
 ly 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. 
 
 When her husband was dead drunk, or was snoring away 
 in a siesta, and Dona Consolacion could not fight with 
 him, then, wearing a blue flannel shirt, she would seat her- 
 self 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, Dona Consolacion had 
 one great virtue; she was never known to look into a 
 mirror. 
 
 These were the leading people of San Diego. 
 
 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. 
 
San Diego and the People. 45 
 
 iialf 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Eh, there !" he shouted to him. 
 
 The grave-digger raised his head. 
 
 ^'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?" 
 
 The grave-digger shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Look you!" added the little old man, bringing out of 
 his pocket a handful of silver. "I have more than that, 
 but I will give it to you if you find the skull for me." 
 
 The glitter of the coin made the grave-digger reflect. 
 He looked over in the direction of the bone pile and said : 
 "Isn't it over there? No? Then I don't know where 
 it is." 
 
 "Don't you know? When my debtors pay me, I will 
 give you more," continued the old man. "It was my wife's 
 skull, and if you find it for me ^" 
 
 "Isn't it there. Then I don't know where it is," re- 
 peated the grave-digger with emphasis. "But I will give 
 you another." 
 
 "You are like the grave that you are digging," cried 
 the old man irritably. "You don't know the value of what 
 you lose. For whom is this grave?" 
 
 "For a dead person, of course/' replied the bad-humored 
 man. 
 
46 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 'Tjike a tomb! Like a tomb!" repeated tHe old man 
 dryly. "You don't know what you throw out nor what 
 you swallow. Dig ! dig !" 
 
 At this the old man, who was Tasio, the village phi- 
 losopher, turned and started toward the gate. 
 
 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 eve^hing within his horizon. 
 
Ibarra and the Grave-Digger. 47 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IBAREA AND THE GRAVE-DIGGER. 
 
 Just as the old man was leaving the cemetery, a car- 
 riage 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. 
 
 "My sickness and my work have not permitted me to 
 return, since the day of the funeral," said the old serv- 
 ant timidly. "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." 
 
 Ibarra did not reply. 
 
 "Right there behind that large cross, senor," con- 
 tinued the servant, making a gesture toward one of the 
 comers just as they passed through the gate. 
 
 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 fol- 
 lowed the young man, their eyes full of curiosity. 
 
 Ibarra walked along very carefully, and avoided step- 
 ping 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. 
 
 "Is it here?" he murmured between his teeth. '*lTo, it 
 i9 over there^ but the earth has been removed*"' .,.. -y^_. 
 
48 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Ibarra looked at him with an expression of angtiish. 
 
 "Yes/^ he continued. "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." 
 
 They turned toward the grave-digger, who looked at 
 them with curiosity. He saluted them, taking o2 his 
 hat. 
 
 ^Tan you tell us which of the graves over there is the 
 one which had a cross?" asked the servant. 
 
 The grave-digger looked toward the place and seemed 
 to reflect. "A large cross?" 
 
 "Yes, a large cross," answered the old man with joy, 
 looking significantly at Ibarra, whose face was some- 
 what animated. 
 
 "An ornamented cross, and fastened with reeds?" re- 
 peated the grave-digger, questioning the servant. 
 
 "That's it, that's it, yes, yes! Like this, like this," 
 and the servant traced an outline of a Byzantine cross. 
 
 "And were there some flowers sown on the grave?" 
 
 '^Adelphas, sampagas and pansies! That's it," added 
 the servant, delighted, and offering the grave-digger 
 a cigar. "Tell us where the grave is and where the 
 cross." 
 
 The grave-digger scratched his ear and replied, yawning : 
 "Well, the cross — I have already burned it up." 
 
 "Burned it? and why have you burned it?" 
 
 "Because the head priest so ordered." 
 
 "Who is the head priest?" asked Ibarra. 
 
 "Who? The one who does the whipping." 
 
 Ibarra put his hand to his head. 
 
 "But you can at least tell us where the grave is? You 
 ought to remember." 
 
 The grave-digger smiled. "The body is no longer 
 there," he replied tranquilly. 
 
 "What do you say?" 
 
 'TTes, no longer," the man added in a Joking tone. 
 "Only a week ago I buried a woman in its place." 
 
 "Are you crazy?" the servant asked, ^^hy, it is not 
 yet a year since we buried him." 
 
Ibarra and the Grave-Digger. 49 
 
 *'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 '^ 
 
 The man could not finish. He stepped back, half 
 frightened at the expression on Crisostomo's face. 
 Ibarra made a rush at him, and, grabbing him by the 
 arm, shook him. 
 
 "And what did you do?" the young man asked, in an 
 indescribable tone. 
 
 "Honored sir, do not get angry," he replied, pale and 
 trembling. "I did not bury the body among the Chi- 
 nese. In my opinion a person might better be a suicide 
 than be buried among the Chinese. I threw the body 
 into the lake." 
 
 Ibarra laid both his hands on the man's shoulders and 
 looked at him for a long time in a terrifying manner. 
 "You are only an unfortunate fellow," he said, at last, 
 and left the place on a run across bones, graves, and 
 crosses, like a madman. 
 
 The grave-digger felt of his arm and murmured: 
 "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'll lose my place yet." 
 
 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 some- 
 thing — perhaps the shade of his father, perhaps the 
 tempest which was approaching. He hurried through 
 the town and headed toward the outlying country, to- 
 ward 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 
 
50 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 signal to him. The windows seemed to open, the Hang- 
 Hang joyfully waved its branches, and the doves fluttered 
 about the little tower on the peak of their garden house. 
 
 But the young man did not notice these signs of wel- 
 come on his return to his old home. His eyes were riv- 
 eted 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 alfercz 
 whom we have mentioned. The wind was playing with 
 the wide wings of his hat, and the robe of guingon 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. 
 
 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 : 
 
 ^^What have you done with my father?" 
 
 Friar Salvi, pale and trembling, as he read the un- 
 mistakable sentiments which were depicted on the 
 young man's face, could not reply. 
 
 "What have you done with my father?" he asked 
 again, his voice almost choking him. 
 
 The priest, shrinking from the tight grasp of Ibarra's 
 hand, at last made a great effort and said: "You are 
 mistaken. I have done nothing with your father." 
 
 "What? No?" continued the young man, the weight 
 of his hand on the priest's shoulder almost making him 
 kneel. 
 
 "No, I assure you. It was my predecessor. It was 
 Father Damaso " 
 
 "Ah!" 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. 
 
Adventures of a School Teacher. 51 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'ADVENTURES OF A SCHOOL TEACHER. 
 
 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's 
 boats at work drawing in the nets. 
 
 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 mel- 
 ancholy countenance. 
 
 ^'Here is the place!" said the latter. "Here is where 
 your father's body was thrown into the water! The 
 grave-digger brought Lieutenant Guevara and me here 
 and pointed out the spot." 
 
 Ibarra, with emotion, warmly grasped the young 
 man's hand. 
 
 "You need not thank me!" replied the latter. "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 repu- 
 tation, 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." 
 
 Ibarra took off his hat and seemed to pray for a short 
 time. Then he turned to his companion and said: *TDid 
 
52. Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 you tell me that my father used to help the poor chil- 
 dren. How is it now?^^ 
 
 ^*^0h, now they do the best they can." 
 
 "And don't they come to school regularly?" 
 
 "No, for their shirts are ragged' and they are 
 ashamed." 
 
 Ibarra kept silent for a few moments. 
 
 "How many pupils have yon now?" he asked, with 
 a certain interest. 
 
 "There are more than two hundred on the register, 
 but only twenty-five in the class." 
 
 "How does that happen?" 
 
 The school teacher sadly smiled. 
 
 "It is a long and tedious story," said he. 
 
 "Don't think that I am asking out of vain curiosity," 
 replied Ibarra, looking seriously at the distant horizon. 
 "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 ISTature; 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." 
 
 '^The country will bless your memory, Seiior, if you 
 can carry out the beautiful and noble ideas of your dead 
 father," said the school teacher. "You wish to know 
 what the obstacles are? Very well. We are now in such 
 circumstances that unless something powerful inter- 
 venes, there will never be any education here. First, 
 because there is no incentive or stimulus to the chil- 
 dren, 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 mem- 
 ory verses and at times entire books in Spanish, but all 
 without understanding a single word. What good can 
 
•Adventures of a School Teacher. 53 
 
 the sons of our farmers get out of the school so long 
 as this is the case?" 
 
 "And you see the evil; have you not thought out a 
 remedy ?" 
 
 "Ah, poor me!" replied the teacher, shaking his head, 
 "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's carriage, under the convent. 
 There, when the children want to read aloud, they nat- 
 urally 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, al- 
 most all the smarter ones in the school understood me and 
 were able to compose phrases in Castellano." 
 
 The teacher stopped and seemed to be in doubt. Then, 
 as if he had made up his mind, he began again. 
 
 "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 be- 
 gan well. Several days later the priest, who was then 
 Father Damaso, 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 immedi- 
 
54 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ately, saluted him and said good morning to him in 
 Spanish. As was customary, when I saluted him, I ad- 
 vanced 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 discon- 
 certed, and it was all done in the presence of the sac- 
 ristian mayor. At the moment, I did not know what to 
 say. I stood and looked at him while he went on laugh- 
 ing. I had already become impatient and saw that I 
 was on the point of commiting an indiscretion. All of 
 a sudden, he stopped laughing and added insult to in- 
 jury. With a cunning air, he said to me: 'So it is 
 huenos dias, eh? luenos dias, ha, ha! How funny! Why, 
 you know how to speak Spanish, do you?' And then he 
 continued his laugh." 
 
 Ibarra could not keep back his smile. 
 
 "You laugh," replied the teacher, also smiling. "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 sac- 
 ristan mayor interposed and said very seriously, in Tagalog: 
 '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.' 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 — 
 the moral, political and civil authority of the town, sus- 
 tained by his corporation, feared by the Government, 
 rich, powerful, always consulting, advising, listening, be- 
 lieving and attending to everything — 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 
 — education? On the contrary, everybody would take 
 up the priest's side of the matter; they would criticise 
 
Adventures of a School Teacher. 55 
 
 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 1 was born in this country, I have to 
 live, I have a mother to support and I have to be re- 
 signed to my lot.^' 
 
 "And have you continued to be discouraged on ac- 
 count of this trouble? Have you attempted nothing 
 since?" 
 
 "Would to God that it had ended there!" he replied. 
 *^ould to God that that had been the end of my mis- 
 fortunes. 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 ful- 
 fillment 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." 
 
 The school teacher made a short pause and then began 
 again. 
 
 "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 ^Doxology^ and Father Astete's cate- 
 chism, which are no more edifying than the books of 
 heretics. On account of the fact that it was impos- 
 sible 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 sub- 
 
56 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 stitute for them gradually, short verses, extracts from the 
 best Tagalog books, such as the 'Treatise on Urbanity' by 
 Hortensio y Feliza, and some of the little pamphlets on 
 agriculture. Sometimes I myself translated small works, 
 such as the 'History of the Philippines,' by Father Bar- 
 ranera, 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 coun- 
 try. 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 'Mysteries,' the 
 'Doxology,' and the 'Catechism of the Christian Doc- 
 trine.' 
 
 "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 'Mys- 
 teries' and the 'Doxology,' but I fear that I am making 
 Father Astete'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 !" 
 
 "Let us not be so pessimistic," replied Ibarra, rising 
 to his feet. "The teniente mayor has invited me to at- 
 tend a town meeting to be held in the tribunal. Who 
 knows but that some plan for improvement may there 
 be adopted!" 
 
 The school teacher arose to go, shaking his head in 
 token of doubt. 
 
Lights and Shadows. 5; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 
 
 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. "He is often absent-minded 
 during the holy services," they said. "He scarcely speaks 
 with us, and he plainly grows more thin and taciturn." 
 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. 
 
 Juan Crisostomo Ibarra had telegraphed from the capi- 
 tal 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 "All Saint's Day." 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. 
 
 If we go to Maria Clara's house, we will find it like a 
 little nest among orange and ilang-ilang trees, surrounded 
 by flowers and vines which creep up on bamboo sticks and 
 wires, diffusing their delicious perfume. The rich fra- 
 grance of the Hang-Hang reaches even to the window which 
 looks out on the lake. Here sit the two young lovers. 
 Ibarra was saying to Maria Clara : 
 
 "To-morrow, before the first ray of morning, your de- 
 sire shall be fulfilled. To-night, I shall arrange all so that 
 nothing will be lacking." 
 
58 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "THen I will write to my friends, so that they may come 
 along. Arrange it so that the priest cannot come." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 "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^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't have him come !" 
 
 "We cannot but invite him," replied Ibarra. "The 
 customs of the country require it. He is the priest of 
 your house and, besides, he has conducted himself nobly to- 
 ward me. When the Alcalde 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." 
 
 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 ex- 
 cuse and went out. 
 
 "And while we are speaking about festivals," said 
 Ibarra, "allow me to invite you to the one which we are 
 going to celebrate to-morrow. It is going to be a coun- 
 try picnic, which we and our friends are planning." 
 
 "And where will it be held?" 
 
 "The girls want to hold it near the brook in the woods, 
 near the haliti tree. So we will have to get up early to 
 reach the place before the sun gets hot." 
 
 The priest reflected, and a moment later replied: "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 !" 
 
 A few minutes later, Ibarra took his leave in order to 
 arrange for the picnic on the following day. It was al- 
 ready quite dark when he left the house. 
 
The Fishing Party. 59 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FISHING PAETY. 
 
 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. 
 
 Five young maidens, clinging to each other's hands or 
 belts, tripped along briskly. Behind them came several 
 elderly women and a number of servants gracefully carry- 
 ing on their heads baskets filled with provisions and vari- 
 ous 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 — 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 pen- 
 sive Neneng, pretty, modest and timid. 
 
 They were talking with animation; they laughed; 
 pinched each other; whispered in each other's ears and 
 then burst out in shouts of merriment. 
 
 "You girls will wake up everybody in town. Don't 
 you know that people are still asleep?" said Aunt Isabel, 
 reprimanding them. "When we were young, we didn't 
 make such a noise." 
 
 "But you didn't get up as early as we do, nor were 
 the old men such great sleepers in your day," replied little 
 Sinang. 
 
 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. 
 
60 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Several young fellows were coining down the street, 
 lighting their way with large bamboo torches. They were 
 marching along almost noiselessly to the tune of a guitar. 
 
 "That guitar sounds as though some beggar were play- 
 ing it/' said Sinang, laughing. But when the young fel- 
 lows caught up with the rest of the party, the girls sud- 
 denly 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. 
 
 The two large lancasj^ which had been secured to trans- 
 port the picnic party to the fishing grounds, were fastened 
 together and picturesquely adorned with wreaths and gar- 
 lands of flowers and a large number of vari-colored 
 candles. Paper lanterns hung from the improvised cov- 
 ering of the hancas. Alternately with these were roses, 
 pinks and baskets of fruits such as pineapples, Icasuys, 
 bananas, gicayahas and lanzones. Ibarra had brought his 
 carpets, blankets and rugs and arranged comfortable seats 
 for the ladies. The poles and paddles used to propel 
 the hancas had also been ornamented. In the better 
 hanca 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 salabat\ 
 might be prepared for the light breakfast. 
 
 "The women sit here ; the men, there,'' said the mothers 
 on stepping into the hanca. "Sit still and don't move, or 
 we will be capsized." 
 
 "Cross yourselves before we start," said Aunt Isabel, 
 as she traced the form of a cross on her breast. 
 
 "And are we to be here all by ourselves," 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, "Are we going to be all alone? 
 Arayr 
 
 This aray was caused by a little pinch which her mother 
 had given her on the arm in the way of a reprimand for 
 her complaint. 
 
 * A narrow canoe. f A drink made of honey and ginger. 
 
The Fishing Party. 61 
 
 The hancas 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. 
 
 Everything was very quiet. The young women, in con- 
 sequence of the separation from the young men, seemed 
 to be absorbed in meditation. 
 
 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 
 desayuno* 
 
 The entire party became jolly as they breathed in the 
 light breeze that had come upi Even the women, so full 
 of presentiments a few moments ago, were now laughing 
 and joking among themselves. 
 
 One young man alone of all the party remained silent. 
 He was the pilot, an athletic-looking fellow, and inter- 
 esting 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 hancas. 
 
 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 mo- 
 ment. He took the biscuits, thanked her very briefiy and 
 in a voice scarcely audible. 
 
 No one else took any notice of him. The happy laugh- 
 ter 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. 
 *A light, early breakfast. 
 
62 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Wait a minute!" said Aunt Isabel to the boatman's 
 son, who had made ready his net and was just about to 
 go up on the baklad to take out the fish from the little 
 enclosure at the end of the weir. "We must have every- 
 thing ready, so that the fish may pass directly from the 
 water to the pot." 
 
 Andeng, the pretty foster sister of Maria Clara, despite 
 her clear complexion and laughing face, had the reputa- 
 tion of being a good cook. She prepared the rice, toma- 
 toes, and camias,* 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 pa^iyap 
 in pieces about the size of a cigarette. 
 
 Finally Andeng announced that the kettle was ready 
 to receive its guests — the fish. 
 
 The fisherman's son went up on top of the rack at the 
 end of the weir. He took a position at the narrow en- 
 trance, over which might have been written: "All who 
 enter here' leave hope behind," 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. 
 
 "There, it wouldn't tire me a bit to fish that way," 
 said Sinang, quite joyful. 
 
 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 at- 
 tempt. 
 
 "It ought to be full of fish," said Albino, in a low 
 voice. "It is more than five days since we visited the 
 place last." 
 
 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 
 
 *A native fruit. 
 
The Fishing Party. 63 
 
 the rays of the sun, seemed to laugh in silvery tones. An 
 "Ah" of surprise, disgust, and disappointment escaped 
 from the lips of all. 
 
 The young fellow repeated the same operation, but with 
 a similar result. 
 
 "You don^t understand your business!" said Albino to 
 him as he stepped up on the rack and took the net from 
 the hands of the youngster. "Now you will see ! Andeng, 
 open up the kettle!" 
 
 But Albino did not understand his business, either. 
 The net came up empty as before. All began to laugh. 
 
 "Don't make any noise," he said, "or the fish will hear 
 it and will keep from being caught. This net must 
 have a hole in it somewhere." 
 
 But every mesh in the net was perfect. 
 
 "Let me take it!" said Leon, Iday's lover, to Albino. 
 
 Leon first made sure that the enclosure was in good 
 condition and then examined the net carefully and satis- 
 fied himself that there was nothing wrong with it. He 
 then asked: "Are you sure that no one has been out here 
 for five days?" 
 
 "We are sure ! The last time any one was out here was 
 on All Saints' Day." 
 
 "Well, then, I am going to bring out something this 
 time, unless the lake is bewitched." 
 
 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: "An alligator." 
 
 "An alligator!" exclaimed half a dozen voices, and th? 
 word was repeated again while all stood frightened and 
 stupefied. 
 
 "What did you say?" they asked. 
 
 "I say that there is an alligator caught in the rack," 
 said Leon, and sticking the handle of the net into the 
 water again he continued: 'TDo 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. 
 
64 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 He is a large fellow ; his body measures a palm or more in 
 width/' 
 
 "What shall be done?" was the question. 
 "Catch him/' said one. 
 ^' Jesus! And who will catch him?" 
 Nobody offered to dive down to the bottom of the rack. 
 The water was very deep. 
 
 "We ought to tie him to our hanca and drag him along 
 in triumph/' said Sinang. "The idea of his eating the 
 fish which we ought to have!" 
 
 "I have never seen to this day a live alligator/' said 
 Maria Clara. 
 
 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. 
 
 With the exception of Maria Clara, none up till now 
 had paid any attention to him. Now every one was ad- 
 miring his fine stature. 
 
 To the great surprise of all and in spite of all their 
 cries, the pilot leaped into the enclosure. 
 
 "Take this knife!" shouted Crisostomo, drawing out a 
 wide-bladed Toledo knife. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Jesus, Maria y Jose!" exclaimed the women. "We 
 
 are going to have a misfortune. Jesus, Maria y Jose!** 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, seiioras," said the old boatman. "If 
 
 there is any one in this province who can do it, it is that 
 
 fellow who has just gone down." 
 
 "What is his name?" they asked. 
 
 "We call him 'The Pilot' ; he is the best I have ever seen, 
 only he does not like his profession." 
 
 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. 
 
 The fight seemed to be at an end. The head of the 
 young man rose to the surface of the water, and the sight 
 
The Fishing Party. 65 
 
 ivras greeted by Joyful shouts from all. The eyes of the 
 women were full of tears. 
 
 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. 
 
 The monster appeared on top of the water. He had the 
 rope tied twice around his neck, and once behind his fore- 
 legs. He was a large fellow, as Leon had already an- 
 nounced. 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 
 hip long teeth. 
 
 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's mas- 
 sive 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, break- 
 ing 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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's white belly was slashed, while in his throat the 
 knife still stuck like a nail. 
 
 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 beei; boiling three different times; now it wa§ 
 
66 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 leaking and had put out tlie fire. iTHe only one wHo 
 could not speak was Maria Clara. 
 
 Ibarra was unhurt. The pilot had a slight scratch on 
 his arm. 
 
 "I owe you my life!" 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. 
 
 "You are too bold," replied Ibarra. "Another time 
 you must not tempt God." 
 
 "If you had never come back!" exclaimed Maria, pale 
 and trembling. 
 
 "If I had never come back and you had followed after 
 me," replied the young man, "I would have been with all 
 my family in the bottom of the lake." Ibarra was think- 
 ing that in those depths lay the remains of his father. 
 
 The mothers of the girls did not want to go to the 
 other halclad oi 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. 
 
 "It is all because we have not heard mass," sighed one 
 of them. 
 
 "But what misfortune have we had, seiioras?" asked 
 Ibarra. "The alligator was the unfortunate one." 
 
 "That goes to show," concluded Albino, "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." 
 
 The hancas were turned toward the other fish rack, and 
 it was necessary for Andeng to get the water boiling 
 again. 
 
 The day was advancing; a breeze was blowing; little 
 v/aves 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. 
 
 The other weir was visited with an entire lack of con- 
 fidence. 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. 
 
The Fishing Party. 67 
 
 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. 
 
68 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN" THE WOODS. 
 
 Very early that morning Father Salvi 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. 
 
 "The Father is ill," said the cook as he prepared an- 
 other cup. "It is several days since he has eaten any- 
 thing; of six dishes which I put on the table for him, he 
 has not touched two." 
 
 ^^It must be that he does not sleep well," replied the 
 servant. "He has nightmare since he changed his bed- 
 room. Every day his eyes are sinking deeper, he grows 
 gradually thinner, and is very yellow." 
 
 As a matter of fact, it was a pitiful sight to behold 
 Father Salvi. He did not care to touch his second cup 
 of chocolate, nor to taste the Cebu cakes. He walked pen- 
 sively to and fro in the spacious sola, 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 Salvi dismissed the carriage and all alone, entered 
 the forest. 
 
 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. 
 
 For some time. Father Salvi was wandering among the 
 thick underbrush, here trjdng to evade the thorns which 
 entangled his habit of guingon 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 
 
In the Woods. 69 
 
 stumble again and again. Suddenly he stopped. Mirth- 
 ful 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 com- 
 ing nearer. 
 
 "I am going to see if I can find a heron's nest/^ said a 
 voice, beautiful and sweet, and at once recognized by the 
 curate. 'TTou 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 him and not have him see me! 
 I could follow him everywhere." 
 
 Father SaM hid behind the thick trunk of an old tree 
 and listened. 
 
 "That is to say, you want to do with him what the 
 curate does with you : watch him everywhere ?" replied the 
 merry voice. "Be careful, for jealousy makes one grow 
 thin and the eyes sink in." 
 
 "No, no. It is not jealousy, it is pure curiosity," re- 
 plied the silvery voice, while the other repeated, "yes, yes, 
 jealousy; that's what it is." And then she broke out in 
 a merry chuckle. 
 
 "If I were jealous of him I would not use the heron's 
 nest to make myself invisible to him, but would make him 
 invisible to everybody else." 
 
 "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'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 ?" 
 
 "But I don't believe in the story about the heron's nests, 
 anyway," replied one. "But if I were really jealous I 
 would know how to keep watch of a person and make my- 
 self invisible. . . " 
 
 "And how ? How would you do it ? Perhaps you would 
 do as Sister Listener does in the convent?" 
 
 This reference to days passed in the convent provoked 
 a jolly laugh all around. 
 
 Father Salvi 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 
 
70 Friars and Filipinos.* 
 
 search of the heron's nest. They were getting wet np 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. 
 
 The religious Acteon, pale and immovable, stood gaz- 
 ing 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. 
 
 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 Salvi 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. 
 
 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 alferez, the teniente mayor, 
 the coadjutor, the gohernadorcillo, the school teacher, a 
 jiumbei: of past captains and lieutenants, including even 
 
In the Woods. 71 
 
 Captain Basilio, who was Sinang^s father, and the former 
 rival of the deceased Don Kaf ael. Ibarra had said to him : 
 "The mere fact that we are parties to a law-suit does not 
 mean that we have to be enemies." 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. 
 
 The parish priest was received with respect and deference 
 by all, even by the alferez. 
 
 "But where did Your Keverence come from?" some one 
 asked on seeing his face full of scratches, and his habit 
 covered with leaves and pieces of dried branches. "Has 
 Your Reverence fallen down?" 
 
 "No^ I lost my way," replied Father Salvi, looking 
 down and examining his clothes. 
 
 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 sampagas interwoven with roses and ilang-ilang, 
 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 enter- 
 taining themselves in a game that was going on around 
 a large, flat stone. Playing cards, checkers, dice and many 
 other games were in progress. 
 
 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'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. 
 
 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 Salvi. The latter noticed this, but he did not even 
 sigh. 
 
 It was now time to eat. The curate, the coadjutor, the 
 alferez, the gdbernadorcillo, and some of the captains, to- 
 
72 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 gether with the tenente mayor 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. 
 
 "Do you know anything yet, Senor Alferez, about the 
 criminal who assaulted Father Damaso?" asked Father 
 Salvi. 
 
 "About what criminal, Father?" asked the alferez, look- 
 ing at the parish priest through his empty wine glass. 
 
 "About whom could it be? About the one who, day 
 before yesterday, struck Father Damaso, of course." 
 
 "Struck Father Damaso?" asked a number of voices. 
 
 The coadjutor was seen to smile. 
 
 "Yes ; and Father Damaso is now in bed. It is believed 
 that the culprit was that same Elias who once threw you 
 into a mud-hole, Senor Alferez." 
 
 The alferez colored up a little, either from shame or 
 too much wine. 
 
 "I thought that you were interested in the affair," con- 
 tinued Father Salvi, with a little jeering in his manner. 
 
 The alferez bit his lips and mumbled out a silly ex- 
 cuse. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Come, Senor Ibarra," shouted Captain Basilio, who 
 was a little bit jolly. "We have a law-suit that has been 
 pending for fifteen years, and there isn'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?" 
 
 The game of chess began with much solemnity, 
 
 "If the game is a draw," said Ibarra, "it is understood 
 that the suit is off." 
 
 About the middle of the game, Ibarra received a tele- 
 gram which made his eyes glisten and his face grow pale. 
 He put it in his pocket-book, not, however, without di- 
 recting a glance at the group of young women who con- 
 tinued with much laughter to play the wheel of fortune. 
 
 "Check to the king!" said the young man. 
 
In the Woods. 73 
 
 Captain Basilio had no other resort than to hide him 
 behind the queen. 
 
 "Check to the queen!" said Ibarra, threatening it with 
 his rtok, which was defended by a pawn. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Certainly, with much pleasure," replied Ibarra. "I 
 will take advantage of the opportunity, for I have some- 
 thing to say to some of the members of that group over 
 there." 
 
 And rising to his feet, he gave his opponent half an 
 hour to study it out. 
 
 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. 
 
 "That's a lie ! It's not so ! It lies !" cried Sinang, half 
 in tears. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" asked Maria Clara. 
 
 "Just imagine it: I asked the question *When will I 
 have some sense ?' I threw the dice and he, this all-night- 
 watching priest (Albino, the ex-seminary student) reads 
 from the book: 'When the frogs grow hairs.^ What do 
 you think of that?" 
 
 And Sinang made a face at the former religious student, 
 who was still laughing heartily. 
 
 "Who told you to ask such a question ?" said her cousin 
 Victoria. "Any one who asks such a question deserves 
 just such an answer." 
 
 "You ask a question!" said they all to Ibarra. "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." 
 
 "And who has received the best answer?'^ 
 
 "Maria Clara, Maria Clara!" replied Sinang. "We 
 made her ask the question whether you loved her or not: 
 'Is your lover faithful and constant,' and the book re- 
 plied " 
 
 But Maria Clara colored up, and, putting her hands 
 over Sinang's mouth, did not allow her to finish what she 
 had to say. 
 
74 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Then, let me try it,'^ said Crisostomo, smiling. 
 
 He asked the question: ^^ill I succeed in my present 
 undertaking ?" 
 
 "You are going to get a bad answer/* exclaimed 
 Sinang. 
 
 Ibarra threw the dice, and noting the number, they 
 looked for the page in the little book with the correspond- 
 ing answer. 
 
 "Dreams are only dreams/' read Albino. 
 
 Ibarra took out his pocket-book and opened it trem- 
 bling. 
 
 "This time your book has lied," he said, full of joy. 
 "Read this \" 
 
 ^Tlan for school house approved; other matter de- 
 cided in your favor.'' 
 
 '^hat does that mean?" they all asked. 
 
 "Did you not tell me that the one who received the best 
 answer was to get a present?" the young man asked, his 
 voice trembling with emotion while he carefully divided 
 the paper into two parts. 
 
 "Yes, yes!" 
 
 "Well, then! This is my gift," he said handing half 
 of the telegram to Maria Clara. "I am going to have 
 a school house for boys and girls erected in the town. 
 This school house will be my gift." 
 
 '^And this other piece: what does that mean?" 
 
 '^1 will give that to the one who has obtained the worst 
 answer." 
 
 "Then that is for me!" exclaimed Sinang. 
 
 Ibarra gave her the piece of paper and quickly went 
 off. 
 
 "And what does this mean?" 
 
 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. 
 
 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 him- 
 
In the Woods. 75 
 
 self only by the greatest effort, the young man made so 
 many mistakes that the game resulted in a draw. 
 
 "We end the suit, we end the suit!" said Captain 
 Basilio, happy over his success. 
 
 "Yes, we declare it off," repeated the young man, 
 "whatever decision the judges may have been able to 
 reach." 
 
 Each grasped the hand of the other and shook it with 
 effusion. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Let everybody be quiet!" cried the sergeant. "Who- 
 ever moves will be shot !" 
 
 In spite of this gruff boast, Ibarra rose to his feet and 
 approached the sergeant. 
 
 "What do you wish?" he asked. 
 
 "That you give up at once the criminal named Elias 
 who acted as pilot for your party this morning," he re- 
 plied, in a threatening tone. 
 
 "A criminal? The pilot? You must be mistaken!" 
 replied Ibarra. 
 
 "No, sir; that Elias is now accused of another crime, 
 of having laid his hands on a priest ^' 
 
 "Ah!^ And is the pilot the one?" 
 
 "He is the same one, so we are told. You are allow- 
 ing people of bad reputation to attend your festivals, 
 Senor Ibarra." 
 
 Ibarra looked at him from head to foot and replied with 
 supreme contempt: "I don'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 alferez who was 
 here among us two hours ago." 
 
 Saying this, Ibarra turned his back to him. The ser- 
 geant bit his mustache and ordered his men to search 
 everywhere among the trees for the pilot, whose descrip- 
 tion he had on a piece of paper. 
 
76 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Don Filipo said to him: "Take note that this descrip- 
 tion corresponds to that of nine-tenths of the natives. 
 Take care that you do not make a mistake V 
 
 At last the soldiers returned, saying that they had not 
 been able to discover either a hanca or a man that aroused 
 their suspicion. The sergeant murmured a few indistinct 
 words and then marched oif. 
 
 Soon the people became jolly again, but questions, 
 wonder and comments were without end. 
 
 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: 
 "Good-bye, happy youth; good-bye, dream of a day." 
 
 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. 
 
In the House of Tasio. 77 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF TASIO. 
 
 On the morning of the following day, Juan Crisostomo 
 Ibarra, after visiting his estates, went to the house of 
 Tasio, the philosopher, his father's friend. 
 
 Quiet reigned in the old man'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 writ- 
 ing. On the walls of the room were collections of in- 
 sects and leaves, maps, and some shelves of books and 
 manuscripts. 
 
 Tasio was so absorbed in his work that he did not 
 notice the arrival of the youth. The latter, not wish- 
 ing to disturb the philosopher, tried to retire from the 
 place, but the old man, looking up, said: "What? Are 
 you here?" and showed no little surprise in his look. 
 
 "Excuse me," replied Ibarra, "I see that you are very 
 busy." 
 
 "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?" 
 
 Ibarra drew some papers from his pocket-book and 
 replied: "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 undertaiking and I want to be 
 assured of success." 
 
 Ibarra then related to him briefly his plan for the erec- 
 tion of a school house in honor of his betrothed. He 
 
78 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ehowed tHe stupefied philosopher the plans whicK had 
 been returned from Manila. 
 
 "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.'^ 
 
 The old man examined the plans which were laid out 
 before him. His eyes were full of tears. 
 
 ''That which you are going to carry out was a dream of 
 mine, the dream of a poor fool/^ he exclaimed, greatly 
 moved. ''And now, my first advice to you is that you 
 never come to consult me in regard to the matter." 
 
 The young man looked at him in surprise. 
 
 "Because sensible people," he continued, in an ironical 
 tone, "will take you for a fool, like myself. People al- 
 ways 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." 
 
 And the old man shook his head, as if to drive away a 
 thought and continued: "My second advice to you is that 
 you consult the curate, the gohernadorcillo, and all the 
 people of good standing. They will all give you bad, fool- 
 ish 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 ac- 
 cording to their wishes." 
 
 Ibarra sat thinking for a moment and then replied: 
 "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?" 
 
 "That's it. Nobody likes the bare truth." 
 
 "I hope to be able to realize all my hopes without en- 
 countering great resistance," said Ibarra. 
 
 "Yes, if the priests lend you their hand; no, if they 
 draw it away. All your efforts will be battered to pieces 
 
In the House of Tasio 79 
 
 against tHe walls of the curate's house. The alcalde 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 in- 
 tended. You will discourage all others who might wish 
 to attempt beneficent undertakings." 
 
 "Nevertheless," replied Ibarra, "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 Govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 "The Government! The Government!" exclaimed the 
 philosopher, raising his eyes and looking at the ceiling. 
 "However much the Government may desire to uplift the 
 country for its own benefit and that of the mother coun- 
 try; however generous may be the Catholic Kings in 
 spirit, I must remind you in confidence that there is an- 
 other 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 advance- 
 ment 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 com- 
 plain, 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 fright- 
 ful reaction. That great force, held back for centuries, 
 that poison, distilled drop by drop, those sighs, so long 
 repressed — 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?" 
 
 "God, the Government, and the Church will never allow 
 
80 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 that day to come V replied Crisostomo, impressed in spite 
 of himself. "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 de- 
 vising 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's self to be a good Christian, 
 to prostitute one's own conscience to bring about good? 
 I love my fatherland, the Philippines, because I owe to 
 her my life and my happiness — ^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." 
 
 ^'Because the field in which you are sowing your seed 
 is in the hands of your enemies, and you are weak in com- 
 parison to them. . . . It is necessary that you first 
 kiss the hand " 
 
 But the young man did not allow him to go farther 
 and exclaimed violently : "To kiss their hands ! You for- 
 get 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." 
 
 The old philosopher bowed his head. "Senor Ibarra," 
 he replied slowly, "if you keep those memories — mem- 
 ories which I cannot advise you to forget — 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 exe- 
 cution, 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 read3r for it; it 
 has been sown only with darnel." 
 
 Ibarra understood the weight of these words, but he 
 
In the House of Tasio. 81 
 
 was not going to be discouraged. Thoughts of Maria 
 Clara filled his mind; he must fulfill his promise to her. 
 "Does not your experience suggest something other than 
 this hard method?" he asked in a low voice. 
 
 The old man took him by the arm and led him to the 
 window. A cool breeze was blowing from the north. Be- 
 fore his eyes lay the garden, stretching out to the large 
 forest which served as a park. 
 
 "Why do we not have to do the same as that weak 
 young bush loaded with roses and buds?'' said the phi- 
 losopher pointing to a beautiful rose bush. "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 trans- 
 planted 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." 
 
 "And would this sacrifice bring the fruits that I hope 
 for?" asked Ibarra. "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 protect- 
 ing 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 ex- 
 pected?" 
 
 The old man remained silent for some time, not being 
 able to reply. At last he said: "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." 
 
 "I believe you," exclaimed Ibarra, stretching out his 
 hand. "Not in vain did I look for good advice. This 
 very day I shall go and make friends with the curate." 
 
 Taking leave of the old man, he mounted on his horse 
 and rode away. 
 
82 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Attention!'^ murmured the pessimistic philosoplier to 
 himself, as he followed the young man with his eyes. 
 "Let us observe carefully how Destiny will unfold the 
 tragedy which began in the cemetery/' 
 
 But this time the philosopher was truly mistaken. The 
 tragedy had begun long before. 
 
The Eve of the Fiesta. 83 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE EVE OF THE FIESTA. 
 
 It is the tenth of November, the eve of the fiesta to be 
 celebrated in the town of San Diego. Departing from 
 its habitual monotony, the town is displaying extraordi- 
 nary 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. 
 
 In the streets at fixed intervals, beautifid arches of 
 bamboo are raised, the wood carved and worked in a thou- 
 sand dijfferent ways. The arches are surrounded with or- 
 naments, 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. 
 
 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 
 gohernadorcillo was very fond of the theatre, and, with 
 the advice of the curate, he had selected for the fiesta the 
 fantastic comedy: "Prince Villardo, or the Nails Pulled 
 Out of the Infamous Cave," a play full of magic and 
 fireworks. 
 
 From time to time the bells ring out their merry sounds. 
 Firecrackers and the booming of little cannon rend the 
 
84 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 to- 
 ward the outskirts of the town to meet the bands of music. 
 Five organizations have been hired, besides three orchestras. 
 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's shirt; that one, his 
 father'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. 
 
 In the meantime wagons and carriages arrive, bring- 
 ing 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. 
 
 "The alferez gets fifty dollars a night," 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. "Captain Tiago," he added, "is going to come 
 and will be banker in the monte game. Captain Joaquin 
 brings eighteen thousand. There is going to be a liam-po* 
 and the Chino Carlos is going to back it with ten thousand 
 pesos capital. Big bettors will come from Tanauan, Lipa, 
 and Batangas, as well as from Santa Cruz. It's going to 
 be great ! It'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 mutya\ of cacao. And how are all the family?" 
 "Very well, very well, thank you!" replied the visitors 
 from the country. 
 
 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's house. Pulleys 
 
 creak, and the place resounds with the sound of the ham- 
 
 *A Chinese gambliDg game. 
 
 t A little white, pearl-like substance sometimes found in the 
 cacao tree, which is supposed to be a lucky omen. 
 
The Eve of the Fiesta. 85 
 
 mer, 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, put- 
 ting a capstan in place and so on. 
 
 "Put that here! That, there! Come, be lively about 
 it I" shouts a little, old man with an animated and intelli- 
 gent physiognomy as he goes about, a yard stick and plumb 
 line in hand. He is the director of the work, Nor Juan, 
 architect, mason, carpenter, whitewasher, locksmith, 
 painter, stone cutter, and, on occasion, sculptor. 
 
 "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 !" 
 
 "Make the hole just large enough for this cylinder!" 
 said he to one of the stone cutters who was chiseling off 
 a large quadrangular stone. "Inside of this our names 
 will be kept.^' 
 
 Then he would repeat to every countryman who came 
 along what he had already said a thousand times : "Do you 
 know what we are going to build? Well, it is a school 
 house, a model of its kind, something like those in Ger- 
 many, but still better. The architect, Senor K., 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 gym- 
 nasium, 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 wiil 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 !" 
 
83 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 He kept going from one end to the other, inspecting 
 everything and passing his opinion on all. 
 
 "1 find that you have got too much lumber here for a 
 crane," said he to a yellowish-looking fellow, who was 
 directing some other laborers. "I would have enough, 
 with three large beams, to form the tripod and with three 
 others to serve as supporters." 
 
 "0, pshaw!" replied the other, smiling in a peculiar 
 way. "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: 'What a lot of work has been done!' You look at 
 that crane that I am constructing. In a little while, I am 
 going to ornament it with handerolas, garlands of flowers 
 and leaves, and . . . you will say afterward that you 
 were right in hiring me, and Senor Ibarra cannot wish for 
 more than that!" 
 
 The man laughed. 'Not Juan also smiled and shook 
 his head. 
 
 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 con- 
 sidered one of the great solemnities. 
 
 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: "Things 
 may go well at first, but be on your guard against masked 
 
As Night Comes On. 87 
 
 CHAPTEK XV. 
 
 AS NIGHT COMES ON. 
 
 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 resi- 
 dent of Manila made it necessary that he should outdo 
 the residents of the province in the splendor of his cele- 
 bration. There was another thing, too, which made it 
 necessary that he should try to eclipse all others — 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. 
 
 Yes, as a matter of fact, one of the most serious news- 
 papers in Manila had printed an article on its first page, 
 headed "Imitate Him !" in which they offered Ibarra much 
 advice and highly eulogized him. The article spoke of 
 him as "the illustrious and rich young capitalist." Two 
 lines below, he was termed "the distinguished philan- 
 thropist," and, in the following paragraph, referred to as 
 the "disciple of Minerva who went to his Mother Coun- 
 try to salute the real birthplace of arts and sciences." 
 Captain Tiago was burning with generous emulation and 
 was wondering whether he ought not to erect a convent at 
 his own expense. 
 
 Days before the week of festivities, numerous boxes of 
 provisions and drinks, colossal mirrors, pictures, paintings 
 and his daughter's piano had arrived at the house. Maria 
 Clara and Aunt Isabel were already living there. Cap- 
 tain Tiago came on the day before the beginning of the 
 festival. As he kissed his daughter'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's boat, in .which Our 
 Saviour sat while fishing. 
 
88 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 The Captain^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 "The San Francisco 
 School.'^ 
 
 "Believe meV he said. "San Francisco is a good 
 patron saint. If you call it 'The Primary School/ you 
 gain nothing. Who is Primary, anyway?'' 
 
 Some friends of Maria Clara arrived and invited her to 
 go for a walk. 
 
 "But return quickly," said the Captain to his daughter, 
 who asked for his permission. "You know that Father 
 Damaso is going to dine with us to-night. He has just 
 arrived." 
 
 And turning to Ibarra who was deep in thought, he 
 added: "You will dine with us, too? You will be all 
 alone at home." 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure, I assure you, if I did not 
 have to be at home to-night to receive visitors," replied 
 the young man, mumbling his words and evading Maria 
 Clara's glance. 
 
 "Bring your friends along with you," replied Captain 
 Tiago cheerfully. "In my house there is always enough 
 to eat. And, besides I would like to have you and Father 
 Damaso understand each other." 
 
 "There'll be time enough for that," replied Ibarra, put- 
 ting on a forced smile and making ready to accompany 
 the young ladies. 
 
 They went downstairs. Maria Clara was walking be- 
 tween Victoria and Iday, while Aunt Isabel followed be- 
 hind. 
 
 As they passed down the street, people stood aside re- 
 spectfully 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 child- 
 ish chatter, jvhich seemed for awhile to have been left 
 
As Night Comes On. 89 
 
 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 mo- 
 ment 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 hei: 
 whole being. 
 
 In front of Captain Basilio'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. 
 
 "Come up a moment so that I can go out with you,'' 
 said she. "It bores me to be among so many strangers 
 who talk about nothing but fighting-cocks and playing 
 cards.'' 
 
 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's 
 beauty, and some of the matrons murmured as they chewed 
 their betel-nut: "She looks like the Virgin!" 
 
 After they had partaken of chocolate they resumed 
 their walk. In the corner of the plaza a beggar was sing- 
 ing 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 hai 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, after- 
 wards 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 
 
90 Friars and Filipinos."^ 
 
 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 
 bnt 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. 
 
 Maria Clara felt that this was a pitiful case. Full of 
 interest, she asked about the strange being. 
 
 ^'It is a leper," replied Iday. "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 ceme- 
 tery. 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's father learned of it, made a com- 
 plaint to the gohernadorcillo 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 go- 
 hernadorcillo cried out: Tatch him! One might better 
 be drowned than have that disease !' " 
 
 "That is true," 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. 
 
 "What have you done?" her friends asked her. 
 
 "I have nothing else to give him," she replied, con- 
 cealing the tears in her eyes by a smile. 
 
 "And what is he going to do with the relic?" said 
 Victoria to her. "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 !" 
 
 Maria Clara looked longingly at the women who were 
 celling provisions and shrugged her shoulders. 
 
As Night Comes On. 91 
 
 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. 
 
 Maria Clara hid her face behind her fan and raised her 
 handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
92 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HOISTING CRANE. 
 
 While two of the actors were singing the Incarnatus 
 est in the church at the celebration of mass on the last 
 day of the fiesta, and all were kneeling and the priests 
 were bowing their heads, a man whispered in Ibarra's ear : 
 "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.'' 
 
 Ibarra looked and saw that it was Elias, the pilot, but, 
 as soon as he had spoken, he lost himself in the crowd. 
 
 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 ;N"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. 
 
 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. 
 
 On high, in the shade of the projecting timbers, ban- 
 ners and wreaths, a large three-wheeled tackle-block was 
 suspended by ropes and iron hooks. Over the shining 
 
The Hoisting Crane. 93 
 
 rims of these pulleys great cables passed, holding sus- 
 pended 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, per- 
 haps, 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'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. 
 
 "Look !" said the yellow-skinned man, as he gave the 
 crank a turn. "Look, 'Rot Juan, with my strength alone, 
 I can raise and lower that massive block of stone. This 
 is so nicely arranged that I cap 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." 
 
 Nor 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. 
 
 "Who taught you the mechanism?" asked iR'or Juan. 
 
 "My father, my father who is now dead," he replied, 
 with that same peculiar smile. 
 
 "And who taught your father?" 
 
 "Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisostomo." 
 
 "I did not know that Don Saturnine " 
 
 "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 !" 
 
 And the yellow fellow smiled in a strange manner. 
 
 At two eating stands, there was now being prepared 
 a sumptuous and abundant breakfast. However, on the 
 
94 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 sweet- 
 meats, candies and flasks of water, ornamented with leaves 
 and flowers, for the thirsty public. 
 
 The crowd, resplendent in gay-colored clothes, was al- 
 ready 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 coun- 
 trymen that they were, would have the pleasure of seeing 
 their children eat on a white table cloth, just like the 
 curate and the Alcalde. Merely to think of it was enough 
 to drive away their hunger. 
 
 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 coun- 
 tryman 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. 
 
 With the band of music came the Alcalde, the officials 
 of the town, the friars, with the exception of Father 
 Damaso, and the Spanish employees of the Government. 
 Ibarra was conversing with the Alcalde, 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 
 alferez and several wealthy persons, with their shining 
 silk hats, walked along, surrounded by a group of young- 
 sters. Father Salvi followed, the same as ever, silent 
 and pensive. 
 
 The young man could feel his heart beat as they ap« 
 
^ * "* The Hoisting Crane. 95 
 
 preached 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 remem- 
 bered what he had said in the church. 
 
 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 Salvi read in a 
 low tone, it could be noticed that his voice trembled. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Senor Ibarra, do you wish to put the box in its 
 place? The curate awaits it," said the Alcalde to Ibarra. 
 
 "I would do so with much pleasure," replied he, ''but 
 I would be usurping the honorable duty of the Senor 
 Notary. The Notary ought to attest the act." 
 
 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. 
 
 The time had now come for each one to put his trowel- 
 ful 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. 
 
 Ibarra presented the Alcalde with a trowel, upon whose 
 wide silver blade was engraved the date. But His Ex- 
 cellency first delivered an address in Spanish. 
 
 "Citizens of San Diego," he said in a solemn tone. "I 
 have the honor to preside at a ceremony the importance of 
 which you already understand. A school is beiug founded. 
 The school is the base of society. The school is the book 
 in which is written the future of the people. Show me 
 
96 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 the schools of a people and I will tell you what those 
 people are. 
 
 "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. 
 
 "And now that the first stone of this great edifice has 
 been blessed, I, Alcalde Mayor 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. 
 
 "Citizens of San Diego! Long live the King! Long 
 live Spain! Long live the Church! Long live the 
 priests ! Long live the Catholic religion !" 
 
 ^'Yiva! VivaT replied the others. "Long live the 
 'Alcalde r 
 
 The Alcalde majestically descended to the accompani- 
 ment of the music which had begun to play. He placed 
 some trowels of mortar on the stone and mth equal 
 majesty ascended the stairs. 
 
 The Government employees applauded. 
 
 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 de- 
 scended. He did the same as the Alcalde had done, but 
 this time more applause was heard, for the Government 
 employees were assisted by the other friars and Captain 
 Tiago. 
 
 Father Salvi 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 
 
The Hoisting Crane. 97 
 
 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 alferez, 
 one after another went down and repeated the ceremony. 
 Captain Tiago was not forgotten. 
 
 Ibarra had been omitted. He was abont to order the 
 yellow man to lower the other stone, when the curate 
 remembered him. In a pleasant tone and, with an affec- 
 tation of familiarity, he said to him. "Aren't you going 
 to put on your trowelful, Senor Ibarra?" 
 
 "I would be like the fellow who made the stew and then 
 ate it," replied the young man in the same tone. 
 
 "0, go on !" said the Alcalde, giving him a gentle push. 
 "If you don't, I will order them not to lower the stone and 
 then we will have to wait here till Judgment Day." 
 
 So terrible a threat forced Ibarra to obey. He ex- 
 changed 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. 
 
 Ibarra, after glancing at the stone which hung over 
 his head, and then at Elias and the yellow man, said to 
 S'or Juan in a trembling voice: "Give me the bucket 
 of mortar and find another trowel for me above." 
 
 The young man stood alone. Elias was no longer look- 
 ing at him; his eyes instead were riveted on the yellow 
 man's hand, while the latter leaned over the ditch and 
 followed with anxiety the movements of Ibarra. 
 
 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 Alcalde on his 
 address. 
 
 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. 
 
98 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Nearly all fled; a few hurried to the ditch. Only Maria 
 Clara and Father Salvi remained in their places without 
 moving, both pale and silent. 
 
 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 every- 
 thing. 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. 
 
 "Are you hurt? — Are you still alive? For God's sake 
 speak!'' said some of the employees, full of terror. 
 
 "Miracle! a miracle!" cried some. 
 
 "Come and remove the body of this unfortunate man," 
 said Ibarra, as if awakening from a dream. 
 
 On hearing his voice, Maria Clara felt her strength 
 giving way and she fell, half fainting, into the arms of 
 her friends. 
 
 Great confusion reigned. Everybody was talking, ges- 
 ticulating, and running from one side to the other, up 
 and down the stairs, all stupefied and full of consterna- 
 tion. 
 
 "Who is the dead man? Is he still alive?" asked the 
 alferez. 
 
 The body was identified as the yellow workman who had 
 been standing beside the windlass. 
 
 "Let proceedings be brought against the superintend- 
 ent of the work," was the first thing that the Alcalde said. 
 
 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'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. 
 
 The priests warmly congratulated the young man and 
 shook his hand. 
 
 '^hen I think that only a few moments ago I was 
 standing there," said one of the employees. "Say! If 
 I had been the last ! JesusT 
 
The Hoisting Cran9. 99 
 
 ''It makes my hair stand on end," said another, who 
 was bald. 
 
 Ibarra had departed, to ascertain the condition of 
 Maria Clara. 
 
 "Let this not prevent the festival from continuing," said 
 the Alcalde. "God be praised ! The dead man is neither 
 a priest nor a Spaniard ! Your escape must be celebrated ! 
 Just think — if the stone had fallen on you!" 
 
 "There is such a thing as a presentiment!" said the 
 Notary. "I said so. Senor Ibarra was reluctant to de- 
 scend. I saw it !" 
 
 "Let the festival go on ! Give us some music ! Weep- 
 ing 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!" 
 
 "Put him in the stocks !" 
 
 "Put him in the stocks! Eh? Some music, music! 
 Put the maestrillo in the stocks." 
 
 "Senor Alcalde," replied Ibarra gravely, "if weeping 
 cannot bring the dead man back to life, neither can any- 
 thing 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." 
 
 "Well, well! But such a misfortune must not be re- 
 peated!" 
 
 All kinds of comments were circulating among the 
 people. The theory that it was a miracle was already 
 accepted. Father Salvi, however, seemed to rejoice very 
 little over the miracle, which the people attributed to a 
 saint of' his order and of his parish. 
 
 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. 
 
 Ibarra went home to change his clothes. 
 
 "Hm! Bad beginning," said Old Tasio as he left the 
 place. 
 
 Ibarra had just finished dressing when a servant an- 
 nounced that a countryman was asking for him. Sup- 
 
100 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 posing that it was one of his laborers, tHe yonng man or- 
 dered that they show him into his study, which also served 
 as a library and a chemical laboratory. But, to his grea^ 
 surprise, he met the muscular figure of the mysterious 
 Elias. 
 
 "You recently saved my life," said he in Tagalo, at once 
 comprehending Ibarra's movement. "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. ..." 
 
 "Speak out!" replied the young man, in the same lan- 
 guage and somewhat surprised at the gravity of the 
 peasant. 
 
 For some seconds, Elias looked fixedly into Ibarra's eyes 
 and then replied: "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." 
 
 "Don't be troubled about that," replied the young man 
 with a certain note of displeasure in his voice. "I know 
 that they are hunting you, but I am no informer." 
 
 "Oh, it is not for my sake, it is not for me !" exclaimed 
 Elias, not without some pride. "It is for your sake. I have 
 nothing to fear from men." 
 
 Ibarra'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. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Ibarra, interrogating the 
 mysterious man with his look. 
 
 "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." 
 
 Ibarra stepped back. 
 
 "My enemies ? Have I enemies ?" 
 
 "All of us have, sir, all from the lowest insect to man, 
 from the poorest to the richest and most powerful. En- 
 mity is the law of life. You have enemies in the highest 
 and in the lowest ranks. You are planning a great under- 
 taking; you have a past; your father, your grandfather 
 liad enemies because they had passion. In life it is not 
 criminals who provoke the most hatred, but rather hon- 
 orable men." 
 
 "Do you know my enemies ?" 
 
The Hoisting Crane. 101 
 
 Elias did not reply at once, but meditated. 
 
 "I knew one, the one who has died,'' he replied. "Last 
 night I discovered that something was being plotted 
 against you, through some words that were exchanged be- 
 tween him and an unknown man who lost himself in the 
 crowd. 'The fish will not eat this one as they did his father ; 
 you will see to-morrow,' said he. These words attracted 
 my attention, not only on account of their meaning but be- 
 cause 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 or(ier to warn you, I chose a moment and an 
 occasion when you could not ask me any questions. You 
 already know tl^ rest." 
 
 Elias was then silent for some moments ; yet Ibarra did 
 not reply nor utter a word. He was meditating. 
 
 "I am sorry that the man is dead," he replied at last. 
 ''We might have been able to learn something more about 
 it from him." 
 
 "If he had lived he would have escaped from the 
 trembling hand of blind, human justice. God has now 
 judged Mm! God has killed him! Let God be the only 
 judge!" 
 
 Crisostomo looked a moment at the man who was 
 speaking to him in this manner. He noticed that his mus- 
 cular arms were covered with bruises and black and blue 
 spots. 
 
 "Do you also believe in the miracle version of the af- 
 fair?" he said, smiling — "this miracle of which the people 
 speak?" 
 
 "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," 
 he replied solemnly. "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 
 
102 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 place, I held the criminal. I put myself by his side. He 
 was struck and I am safe and sound.'^ 
 
 'TTou? So that you . . . ?" 
 
 "Yes! I held him when he wanted to escape, once he 
 had begun his fatal work. I saw his crime. I say : '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!" 
 
 "And, still you this time " 
 
 "No!" interrupted Elias, foreseeing the objection that 
 he was going to raise. "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." 
 
 "Do you not believe in chance ?" 
 
 "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 ma- 
 chinery of the world, are two great imperfections." 
 
 "Who are you?" Ibarra asked again, with a certain 
 dread. "Have you studied ?" 
 
 "I have had to believe in God a great deal because I 
 have lost my faith in men," replied the pilot, evading the 
 question. 
 
 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. 
 
 "But you must admit the necessity of human justice, 
 however imperfect it may be," he replied. "God, al- 
 though 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 
 
The Hoisting Crane. 103 
 
 is necessary, it is just, that a man should sometimes judge 
 his fellows/' 
 
 "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," he added, changing his tone, "this discus- 
 sion 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 your- 
 self for the good of your country I" 
 
104 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 THE BANQUET. 
 
 There, vmder the shade of the decorated pavilion, the 
 great men of the province were banqueting. The Al- 
 calde occupied one end of the table; Ibarra, the othef. 
 On the young man's right sat Maria Clara, and on his left, 
 the Notary. Captain Tiago, the alferez, the gohernador- 
 cillo, the friars, the employees, and the few senoritas who 
 were present were seated, not according to rank but ac- 
 cording to their own fancy. 
 
 The banquet was very animated, but, before it was half 
 over, a messenger with a telegram came in search of Cap- 
 tain Tiago. The Captain asked permission to read the 
 message, and naturally all begged of him to do so. 
 
 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. 
 
 '^Gentlemen," said he, confused, "His Excellency, the 
 Governor General, is coming this afternoon to honor my 
 house." 
 
 And then he started on a run, taking with him the tele- 
 gram and the napkin, but not his hat. All sorts of ques- 
 tions and exclamations were shouted after him. The an- 
 nouncement of the coming of the tulisanes could not have 
 had a greater effect. "But listen! When does he come? 
 Tell us about it! His Excellency !'' But Captain Tiago 
 was already far away. 
 
 "His Excellency is coming and will be a guest at Cap- 
 tain Tiago's house!" exclaimed some one, without con- 
 sidering that the Captain's daughter and future son-in- 
 law were present. 
 
 "The choice could not have been a better one," replied 
 another. 
 
 The friars looked at each other. Their expjressions 
 
The Banquet. 105 
 
 seemed to say : "The Governor General is committing an- 
 other of his errors, offending us in this way. He ought 
 to be the guest of the convent." But despite the fact that 
 they thought this, they all kept silent and no one of them 
 exptessed his opinion. 
 
 "Even yesterday he was speaking to me about it," said 
 the Alcalde, "but, at that time, His Excellency was not 
 decided." 
 
 "Do you know. Your Excellency, Senor Alcalde, how 
 long the Governor General intends to remain here ?" asked 
 the alferez, a little uneasy. 
 
 "No, not positively. His Excellency likes surprises." 
 
 "Here come some other telegrams !" 
 
 The messages were for the Alcalde, the alferez, and 
 the gohernadorcillo, and announced the same thing to each 
 of them. The friars noticed that none came addressed to 
 the curate. 
 
 "His Excellency will arrive at four o'clock this af- 
 ternoon, gentlemen," said the Alcalde solemnly. "We can 
 finish at our leisure." 
 
 Leonidas, in the pass of Thermopylae, could not have said 
 with better grace "To-night we will dine with Pluto." 
 
 "I notice the absence of our great preacher," 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. 
 
 All who knew the life of Crisostomo's father twitched 
 their eyes significantly and seemed to say by their move- 
 ments: "Go on! It's a bad beginning that you have 
 made!" But others, more benevolently disposed, replied: 
 "He must be somewhat fatigued." 
 
 "What? Somewhat fatigued!" exclaimed the alferez. 
 "Why, he must be exhausted. What did you think of the 
 sermon this morning?" 
 
 "Superb, gigantic!" said the Notary. 
 
 "To be able to speak like Father Damaso, a man needs 
 lungs," observed Father Manuel Martin. 
 
 The Augustine did not concede more than lung power. 
 
 "And such easiness of expression," added Father Salvl. 
 
 "Do you know that Senor Ibarra has the best cook in the 
 
106 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 province/' remarked the 'Alcalde, cutting off the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 "So they say/' replied one of the Government em- 
 ployees, "but his fair neighbor does not wish to do honor 
 to his table, for she scarcely takes a mouthful." 
 
 Maria Clara blushed. 
 
 "I thank you, Senor You occupy yourself too 
 
 much about me. . but. . . " she said timidly. 
 
 "But your presence honors him sufficiently," concluded 
 the gallant Alcalde. Then turning to Father Salvi: 
 "Father Curate, I notice that you have been silent and pen- 
 sive all day long." 
 
 "It is my nature," muttered the Franciscan. "I would 
 rather listen than talk." 
 
 "Your Eeverence seeks always to gain and never to 
 lose," replied the alferez, in a joking manner. 
 
 But Father Salvi did not take it as a joke. His eyea 
 flashed a moment and he replied: "You know very well, 
 Senor Alferez, that, during these days, I am not the one 
 who gains most!" 
 
 The alferez overlooked the fling with a false laugh and 
 pretended not to hear it. 
 
 "But, gentlemen, I do not understand how you can be 
 talking about gains and losses," intervened the Alcalde. 
 "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 ^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 celes- 
 tial spheres of the infinite and of the ideal " 
 
 "Your Excellency is a poet," said the Notary gayly ; and 
 both drained their wine glasses. 
 
 "I cannot help it/' said the Alcalde, wiping his lips. 
 "The occasion, if it does not always make the thief, makes 
 the poet. In my youth I composed verses, and they cer- 
 tainly were not bad ones." 
 
 "So Your Excellency has been unfaithful to the Muses, 
 deserting them for Themis." 
 
 "Psh!" What would you do? It has always been my 
 dream to run through the whole social scale. Yesterday 
 J was gathering flowers, and singing songs; to-day I hold 
 
The Banquet. 107 
 
 the wand of Justice and serve Humanity. To-morrow. .'* 
 
 "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," added Father 
 Sibyla. 
 
 "Psh! Yes. . . no. . . To be a Minister is not pre- 
 cisely 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 remember- 
 ing our dear Philippines. . . Of me Voltaire will not 
 say: 'Nous n'avons jamais ete chez ces peuples que pour 
 nous y enrichir et pour les calomnier.* " . 
 
 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-re whom they 
 had so often cursed and condemned to Hades. Father 
 Sibyla, however, recognized the name and assumed a se- 
 rious air, supposing that the Alcalde had uttered some 
 heresy. 
 
 Father Damaso was waddling down the road. He was 
 half smiling, but in such a malignant manner, that on see- 
 ing him, Ibarra, who was in the act of speaking, lost the 
 thread of his remarks. All were surprised to see Father 
 Damaso, 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. 
 
 Father Damaso 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 Alcalde, he asked in 
 the midst of a significant silence : "Were you not talking 
 about something, senores? Continue!" 
 
 "We were drinking a toast," replied the Alcalde. "Senor 
 Ibarra was mentioning those who had aided him in his 
 philanthropic enterprise and was speaking of the architect 
 when Your Eeverence . . ." 
 
 "Well, I don't understand architecture," interrupted 
 Father Damaso, ^Taut 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 
 
108 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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." 
 
 "However," replied the Alcalde, seeing that Ibarra was 
 silent, "when we are dealing with certain edifices, for ex- 
 ample a school, we need a skilled man (perito).'' 
 
 "He who needs a perito is a perrito (little dog) !" ex- 
 claimed Father Damaso, with a scoff. "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's all that a school house is." 
 
 All looked toward Ibarra. But the young man, even if 
 he did look pale, kept on conversing with Maria Clara. 
 
 "But Your Reverence should consider. . . ." 
 
 "Just look you," continued the Franciscan without al- 
 lowing the Alcalde to speak. "See how one of our lay broth- 
 ers, 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 cuartos 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 
 mesticillos* who spoil them by paying them three or four 
 reales." 
 
 "Does Your Reverence say that he only paid eight 
 cuartos 2 Impossible!" said the Alcalde, trying to change 
 the course of the conversation. 
 
 "Yes, Senor; and those who brag of being good Span- 
 iards 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." 
 
 "But, Father Damaso !" 
 
 "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 . . ." 
 
 "But listen. Your Reverence. . . " interrupted the 
 Alcalde, becoming uneasy at such harsh words. 
 
 "They are all going to end as they merit/' he con- 
 
 * Little mestizos or half breeds. Used in contempt. 
 
The Banquet. 109 
 
 tinued. "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?'' 
 
 But he did not finish his remarks. Ibarra, his face 
 flushing, had been following him with his eyes. On hear- 
 ing 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. 
 
 Full of astonishment and terror, no one dared to in- 
 tervene. 
 
 "Keep back!" 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. "Let no 
 one approach who does not want to die!" 
 
 Ibarra was beside himself. His body trembled, and his 
 threatening eyes almost burst from their sockets. Friar 
 Damaso struggled and raised himself, but the young man, 
 seizing him by the collar, shook him till he fell on his 
 knees and collapsed. 
 
 "Senor Ibarra! Senor Ibarra!" cried some. 
 
 But nobody, not even the alferez, dared to approach 
 the glistening blade, considering the strength of the young 
 man and the state of his mind. All were paralyzed. 
 
 "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!" 
 
 The young man was breathing hard. With iron hand 
 he held the Franciscan down, and the latter struggled in 
 vain to break loose. 
 
 "My heart beats tranquilly. My hand is sure." 
 
 He looked about him and continued: "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 re- 
 ligion, and a miserable heart, you could not have known 
 what a father is. You should have thought of your own ! 
 
110 Friars and Filipinos.) 
 
 Do you see? Among tliis crowd which you scorn, there 
 is none such as you ! You are judged !" 
 
 The people around him made a stir, believing that he 
 was going to strike. 
 
 "Back V he again cried in a threatening voice. "What ? 
 Do you fear that I would soil my hand with his impure 
 blood? Have I not told you that my heart beats tran- 
 quilly? 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 sacri- 
 ficed 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 op- 
 pressed 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 ha done in return? He has calum- 
 niated 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'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 pro- 
 fane the pulpit; you saw him point me out to the popu- 
 lar fanaticism; I said nothing. Now he comes here in 
 search of a quarrel. To your surprise, I suffered in si- 
 lence; 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 si- 
 lent. Then by that silence you condemn him !" 
 
The Banquet. Ill 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 Ills face, he fled through the crowd. 
 
112 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD. 
 
 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. 
 
 Captain Tiago, though very busy preparing his house 
 for the reception of the Governor General, had been sum- 
 moned to the convent. 
 
 "Don't cry, my girl,'' said Aunt Isabel as she dusted 
 off the mirrors. "They will certainly annul the excom- 
 munication; they will write the Pope. . . We will make a 
 large donation. . . Father Damaso had nothing more than 
 a fainting spell. . . He is not dead." 
 
 "Don't cry," said Andeng to her, in a low voice. "I 
 will certainly arrange it so that you can speak to him. 
 "What are the confessionals made for, if we are not ex- 
 pected to sin ? Everything is pardoned when one has told 
 it to the curate." 
 
 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. 
 
 "How is it, Santiago?" asked Aunt Isabel, anxiously. 
 
 He answered her with a sigh and dried away a tear. 
 
 "For God's sake, speak ! What has happened ?" 
 
 "What I had already feared !" he broke out finally half 
 crying. "All is lost! Father Damaso orders that the 
 engagement be broken. If it is not broken off, I am con- 
 demned in this life and in the next. They all tell me the 
 same thing, even Father Sibyla! I ought to shut the 
 
The First Cloud. 113 
 
 doors of my House and. . . I owe him more than fifty- 
 thousand pesos. I told the Fathers so, but they would 
 take no notice of it. 'Which do you prefer to lose/ they 
 said to me, 'fifty thousand pesos, or your life and your 
 soul ?' Alas ! Ay ! San Antonio I If I had known it, if I 
 had known it !" 
 
 Maria Clara was sobbing. 
 
 "Do not cry, my daughter," he added, turning to her. 
 •'You are not like your mother. She never cried. . . she 
 never cried except when she was whimsical just before 
 your birth. . . Father Damaso tells me that a relative of 
 his has just arrived from Spain. . . and that he wants 
 him to be your fiance." . . . 
 
 Maria Clara stopped up her ears. 
 
 "But, Santiago, are you out of your head?" cried Aunt 
 Isabel. "Speak to her now of another fiance! Do you 
 think that your daughter can change lovers as easily as 
 she changes her dress ?" 
 
 "I was thinking the same thing, Isabel. Don Crisos- 
 tomo 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 !" 
 
 "But you only give sorrow to your daughter. Are you 
 not a friend of the Archbishop? Why don't you write 
 him?" 
 
 "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 un- 
 fortunate than you and I do not cry. You can have an- 
 other and better fiance, but I lose fifty thousand pesos. 
 Ah! Virgin of Antipole! If I could only have some luck 
 to-night !" 
 
 Noises, detonations, the rumbling of carriages, the gal- 
 loping of horses, and a band playing the Mar dm Real 
 announced the arrival of His Excellency, the Governor 
 
114 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 rep- 
 resenting her in that attitude of painful solitude, known 
 only to Delaroche, as if she had been surprised on return- 
 ing from the sepulchre of her Son. But Maria Clara was 
 not thinking of the grief of that Mother; she was think- 
 ing 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 — 
 that future was now to be blotted from the mind and 
 heart by a single word! 
 
 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 de- 
 manded 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. 
 
 She wanted to pray, but who can pray without hope? 
 One prays when there is hope. When there is none, wo 
 surrender ourselves to God and wail. ^^My God !^' cried 
 her heart, "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 ?" 
 
The First Cloud. 115 
 
 ''MotHer, mother/^ she was moaning. 
 
 '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. 
 
 "Aunt, tell them that I am ill !" begged the frightened 
 maiden. "They wish to make me play the piano and 
 sing.'' 
 
 "Your father has promised it. You are not going to go 
 back on your father ?'' 
 
 Maria Clara arose, looked at her aunt, clasped her 
 beautiful arms about her and murmured: "Oh, if I 
 had ..." 
 
 But, without finishing the sentence, she dried her tears 
 and began to make her toilet. 
 
116 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY. 
 
 "I WANT to speak with that young man/' said His Ex- 
 cellency to an adjutant. "He has awakened my interest." 
 
 "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 Excel- 
 lency 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." 
 
 His Excellency turned to the Alcalde as if in doubt. 
 
 "If I am not mistaken/' said the latter, making a slight 
 bow, "it is a young man who this morning had a diffi- 
 culty with Father Damaso about the sermon." 
 
 "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 !" 
 
 His Excellency was walking nervously from one end 
 of the sala to the other. 
 
 In the lower part of the house, in the ante-room, were 
 several Spaniards, mingled vnth 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 Damaso, and they wanted to go 
 in and pay their respects to His Excellency. 
 
 "His Excellency, the Governor General, begs Your Rev- 
 erences to wait a moment," said the adjutant. "Walk 
 in, young man !" 
 
 The young man from Manila entered the sala^ pale and 
 trembling. 
 
 Everybody was surprised. His Excellency must be ir- 
 ritated to dare to make the friars wait. Father Sibyla 
 
His Excellency. 117 
 
 said: "I have nothing to say to him. . . I am losing 
 time here \" 
 
 "It's the same with me," said an Augustine. "Shall 
 we go ?" 
 
 "Would it not be better for us to Jfind out what he 
 thinks?" asked Father Salvi. "We would avoid a scan- 
 dal . . . and ... we would be able to call to his mind 
 his duty to . . . the Church." 
 
 "Your Eeverences can walk in, if you wish," announced 
 the adjutant, as he escorted out the young man, whose 
 face was now, however, glowing with satisfaction. 
 
 Friar Sibyla entered first. Behind him came Father 
 Salvi, Father Manuel Martin and the other priests. They 
 all humbly saluted the Governor General, with the excep- 
 tion of Father Sibyla, who preserve^ even in his bow, an 
 air of superiority. Father Salvi, on the contrary, almost 
 touched the floor with his head. 
 
 "Which of Your Eeverences is Father Damaso?" asked 
 His Excellency unexpectedly, without having them sit 
 down, or even asking about their health, and without ad- 
 dressing them with any of those courteous phrases which 
 are customary with such high personages. 
 
 "Father Damaso is not among us, senor," replied 
 Father Sibyla, rather dryly. 
 
 "Your Excellency's servant lies ill in bed," added 
 Father Salvi meekly. "After having the pleasure of salut- 
 ing you and of inquiring about the health of Your Excel- 
 lency, 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 . . ." 
 
 "Oh," interrupted the Governor General, as he turned 
 a chair around on one leg and smiled nervously. "If all 
 the servants of My Excellency were like His Eeverence 
 Father Damaso, I would prefer to serve My Excellency 
 myself." 
 
 The Eeverences did not know how to respond to this 
 interruption. 
 
 "Take a seat, Your Eeverences !" he added after a short 
 pause, softening his tone a little. 
 
 Captain Tiago came in dressed in a frock coat and walk- 
 
118 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ing 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. 
 
 "Is this your daughter?" asked the Governor General, 
 somewhat surprised. 
 
 "And Your Excellency's, my General," replied Captain 
 Tiago seriously.* 
 
 The Alcalde 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: 
 "Happy are the fathers who have daughters like you, 
 seiiorita. 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 Jj^'^^Q to His Majesty's Government I 
 will not forget your 'generous conduct. In the meantime, 
 senorita, 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 hSs daughters of your age, allow me 
 to extend to you most sincere thanks and propose your 
 name for some mark of recognition." 
 
 "Senor . . ." replied Maria Clara, trembling. 
 
 His Excellency guessed what she wanted to say, and 
 replied : "It is well enough, senorita, that you are satisfied 
 in your own conscience with the mere esteem of your own 
 people. The testimony of one's people is the highest re- 
 ward 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." 
 
 "Senor Don Juan Crisostomo awaits Your Excellency's 
 orders," announced the adjutant in a loud voice. 
 
 Maria Clara trembled. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the Governor General. "Permit me, 
 senorita, to express the desire to see you again before I 
 leave town. I still have some very important things to 
 say to you. Seiior Alcalde, Your Lordship will accom- 
 
 * A reply which accords with the Spanish idea of politeness 
 but rather ludicrously used in this instance. 
 
His Excellency. 119 
 
 pany me for a walk after the conference which I will hold 
 alone with Senor Ibarra." 
 
 "Your Excellency will permit us," said Father Salvi 
 meekly, "to inform you that Senor Ibarra is excom- 
 municated . . ." 
 
 His Excellency interrupted him saying: "I am glad 
 that I have nothing more to deplore than the condition 
 of Father Damaso, 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." 
 
 They retired one a/ter the other. 
 
 "We will see who will make the journey first," said a 
 Franciscan. m^ - 
 
 "I am going off now right away^*w9^'Father Sibyla, 
 with indignation. 
 
 "And we are going back to our provinces, too," said 
 the Augustins. 
 
 They could not endure that through the fault of a Fran- 
 ciscan His Excellency had received them coldly. 
 
 In the entrance hall they met Ibarra, their host only 
 a few hours ago. They exchanged no salutations, but 
 their looks were eloquent. 
 
 , The Alcalde, on the contrary, when the friars had dis- 
 appeared, greeted the young man and extended his hand 
 to him in a familiar way. But the arrival of the adju- 
 tant, who was looking for Ibarra, did not give them an 
 opportunity to converse. 
 
 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. 
 
 The Governor General advanced a few steps. "It gives 
 me great satisfaction to shake your hand. Grant me your 
 entire confidence." 
 
 "Senor . . . such kindness ... !" 
 
 '^our surprise offends me. It indicates that you did 
 not expect a good reception from me. That is doubting 
 my justice !" 
 
120 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "A friendly reception, senor, for an insignincant subject 
 like myself, is not justice, it is a favor." 
 
 ^^Well, well!'^ said His Excellency, sitting down and 
 pointing out a seat for Ibarra. "Let us speak frankly. 
 I am very much pleased with your action and I have al- 
 ready proposed to His Majesty'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/' 
 
 "My idea of erecting a school seems to me so insignifi- 
 cant,'' replied the young man, "that I did not think it 
 an occasion worthy of taking the attention of Your Ex- 
 cellency from your many duties and cares. Then, too, it 
 was my duty to first address the highest authority of the 
 province." 
 
 His Excellency made a bow of satisfaction and adopt- 
 ing a still more intimate manner, continued: 
 
 "In regard to the unpleasantness which you have had 
 with Father Damaso, 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 our- 
 selves 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 cor- 
 porations, 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. . . ." 
 
 And quickly turning the conversation, he asked: "You 
 have told me that you come from Europe; ^ere you in 
 Madrid?" 
 
 ^TTes, senor; for some months." 
 
 "You have perhaps heard of my family ?" 
 
 'TTour Excellency had just left when I had the honor 
 to be presented to it." 
 
His Excellency. 121 
 
 ^'And why, then, did you come here without bringing 
 some letter of introduction ?'' 
 
 "Senor," replied Ibarra bowing, "because I do not come 
 directly from Spain, and because, having heard of Your 
 Excellency's character, I thought that a letter of intro- 
 duction would not only be useless, but even offensive. All 
 Filipinos are recommended to you." 
 
 A smile appeared on the lips of the old officer and he re- 
 plied slowly, as if weighing and measuring his words : 
 
 "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 Ag- 
 riculture, 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: ^Grasp much, get little.' 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, bom 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 work- 
 ing in the dark. Good intentions and wishes are not want- 
 ing 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?" 
 
 Ibarra meditated. 
 
122 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Senor/' lie replied, ^'^my greatest desire is tlie 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." 
 
 His Excellency looked at him for several seconds with 
 a look which Ibarra met naturally, without timidity and 
 without boldness. 
 
 "You are the first man with whom I have spoken in this 
 country," he exclaimed grasping his hand. 
 
 "Your Excellency has only seen those who lead a grovel- 
 ling existence in the city. You have not seen the calum- 
 niated hovels of our towns. If you had, you would have 
 seen true men, if generous hearts and simple manners 
 make true men.'' 
 
 The Governor General arose and paced the sola from one 
 side to the other. 
 
 "Seiior Ibarra," he exclaimed, stopping a moment. The 
 young man arose. "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." 
 
 "I shall cherish all my life the memory of Your Excel- 
 lency's kindness," replied Ibarra, moved by what the Gov- 
 ernor General had said. "But I ought to live in the 
 country where my fathers have lived. . . ." 
 
 "Where they have died, you should say, to speak more 
 exactly. Believe me! I possibly know your country bet- 
 ter than you do yourself. ... Ah ! Now I remember," 
 he exclaimed changing the tone of his voice. 'TTou 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," he added, smiling. "Do not forget, 
 however, that I want you to accompany me for a walk." 
 
 Ibarra bowed and departed. 
 
 His Excellency called his adjutant. 
 
 "I am happy," said he, giving him a light slap on the 
 shoulder. • "To-day I have seen for the first time how one 
 
His Excellency. 123 
 
 can be a good Spaniard without ceasing to be a good Fil- 
 ipino and to love his country. To-day, at last, I have 
 shown the Reverences 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's a pity that this young man, some day 013 
 other . . . but call the Alcalde to me.^' 
 
 The latter presented himself at once. 
 
 "Senor Alcalde,'' he said to him, as he entered the room, 
 "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 
 Senor 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." 
 
 The Alcalde understood the reprimand and bowed to 
 conceal his confusion. 
 
 "Have the alferez, 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 ac- 
 cordance with the regulations. I have heard more than 
 one complaint on this score." 
 
 Captain Tiago, all starched and ironed, presented him- 
 self. 
 
 "Don Santiago," said His Excellency, in a cordial tone 
 of voice, "a little while ago I was congratulating you on 
 having a daughter like the Senorita 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 ?" 
 
 "Senor!" stammered the Captain, wiping away the 
 perspiration which was running down his face. 
 
 "0, 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/' he added, turning to the Alcalde, 
 
424 Friars and Filipinos/ 
 
 *'Yes, senor V' replied Captain Tiago, with a smile which 
 inspired compassion. 
 
 Ibarra had gone in sea/rch 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. 
 
 "Who knocks?'' asked Maria Clara. 
 
 The voices were silenced and the door . . . was not 
 opened. 
 
 "It is I. May I come in?'' asked the young man, his 
 heart beating violently. 
 
 The silence was not broken. A few seconds afterward 
 gentle steps approached the door and Sinang's cheerful 
 voice murmured through the key-hole: "Crisostomo, we 
 are going to the theatre to-night. Write what you have 
 to siy to Maria Clara." 
 
 Then the footsteps were heard retreating, as quickly 
 as they had come. 
 
 "What does that mean!" murmured Ibarra to himself, 
 as he went skwly away from the door. 
 
The Procession. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PROOBSSION-. 
 
 In the evening, by the light of lanterns hung from win- 
 dows, to the ringing of bells and bursting of bombs, the 
 procession started for the fourth time. 
 
 The Governor General left the house on foot, in com- 
 pany with his two adjutants, Captain Tiago, the Alcalde, 
 the alferez, and Ibarra. The Civil Guards and the officials 
 of the town preceded them and cleared the way. His Ex- 
 cellency had been invited to witness the procession from 
 the house of the gohernadorcillo, in front of which a plat- 
 form had been erected for the recitation of a loa, or re- 
 ligious 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 loa, there was no other remedy for Ibarra but to 
 console himself with the hope of seeing her at the theatre. 
 
 The procession was headed by three sacristans carrying 
 silver candlesticks. The children of the school, accom- 
 panied 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 ful- 
 filled this dut} ivitii a great deal of pleasure. 
 
 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 pro- 
 cession, to the edification of souls and to the glory of re- 
 ligious pomp. 
 
126 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 At the same time that the officers inflicted these sancti- 
 fied floggings with their wands free of charge, others, to 
 console those who had been punished, distributed wax and 
 tallow candles, also free of charge. 
 
 "Senor Alcalde," said Ibarra, in a low voice, "do they 
 inflict those blows to punish the sinners or merely for 
 pleasure ?" 
 
 "You are right, Senor Ibarra," replied the Governor 
 General, who had overheard his question. "This spectacle 
 . . . barbarous . . . astonishing to those who come from 
 other countries, ought to be prohibited." 
 
 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: "What a car! How many 
 lights and glass lanterns! Why, I have never seen you 
 surrounded by so many illuminations, Giovanni Bemar- 
 done ! And what music !" 
 
 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 guingon 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 
 jtina 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. Con- 
 sequently, 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. 
 
The Procession. 127 
 
 "There goes our saint!" cried the daughter of the 
 gobernadorcillo to her visitors. "I loaned her my rings, 
 but I did it to get to Heaven/' 
 
 Those carrying the illuminations stopped near the plat- 
 form to hear the loa. 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. 
 
 "You'll get into trouble,^' objected one. 
 
 "Jesus! In the sacristry, they leave him in a comer 
 among spider-webs. . . ." 
 
 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 Damaso gave the 
 following reason for putting the young women next to 
 the Virgin's car: "The Virgin likes young women, but 
 not old ones.'' Of course, this explanation caused many 
 of the older women to make wry faces, but that did not 
 change the taste of the Virgin. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 monoto- 
 nous 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 draw- 
 ing the car of Spring. 
 
 And now when the images were all attentive, when this 
 
128 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 child and tHat had heen slapped sufficiently to make him 
 listen to the verses, when everybody had his eyes fixed 
 on the half open curtain, at last, an aaaah! of admiration 
 escaped from the lips of all. 
 
 And the sight merited it. A young child appeared with 
 wings, riding boots, a cordon over its shoulder, a belt and 
 a plumed hat. 
 
 "The Senor Alcalde!" cried fome one, but the young 
 prodigy recited a poem in such a manner that the Alcalde 
 was not offended at the comparison. 
 
 The procession then continued. San Juan followed out 
 his bitter career. 
 
 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 
 Ave Maria of Gounod. The music of the procession was 
 Bilenced, the praying ceased, and Father Salvi 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 The Governor General found him pensive and sad. 
 
Dona Consolacion. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 DOfi^A CONSOLACION. 
 
 Why were the windows in the alferez's 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 unpleas- 
 ant 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 re- 
 frained from disturbing the gayety of the crowd by her 
 sinister apparition? 
 
 Alas ! Her generous impulses lived only in the golden 
 age. 
 
 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. 
 
 A feeble light illumined the disarranged sala, and made 
 transparent the oyster-shell windows filled with spider- 
 webs and covered with dust. The Senora, 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, out- 
 rageously 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. 
 
130 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 That morning the Seiiora had not heard mass, not be- 
 cause 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 ac- 
 companied by two or three insults, oaths and threats of 
 kicking. The alferez understood that his "female" 
 dressed hersel;f 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. 
 
 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 gor- 
 geously than Maria Clara herself, though to be sure the 
 latter wore a tapis over her skirt while she wore only the 
 skirt. The alferez had to say to her: "Oh, shut your 
 mouth or I'll kick you till you do V 
 
 Dona Consolacion did not care to be kicked, but she 
 planned revenge. 
 
 The dark face of the Senora never had inspired confi- 
 dence in anybody, not even when she painted it. That 
 morning she was exceptionally uneasy, and as she walked 
 from one end of the sala 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, lu- 
 minous, aiid penetrating and had something vicious, 
 loathsome and cruel in it. 
 
 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. 
 
 So the day passed. Encountering no obstacle in her 
 way — her husband had been invited out — she became satu- 
 rated with bile. 
 
 Everything around bent itself before her. She met no 
 resistance, there was nothing upon which she could dis- 
 charge the vials of her wrath. Soldiers and servants 
 crawled before her. 
 
 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 hand- 
 
Dona Consolacion. 131 
 
 kerchief 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. 
 
 A madwoman who had been detained for disturbing 
 the public peace was taken to the barracks. The alferez 
 was not there at the time and the unhappy woman had to 
 pass the night seated on a bench. The following day the 
 alferez returned. Fearing lest the unhappy woman 
 should become the butt of the crowd during the fiesta, he 
 ordered the soldiers who were guarding her to treat her 
 with pity and give her something to eat. Thus the de- 
 mented woman passed two days. 
 
 Whether the proximity to Captain Tiago's house made 
 it possible for the sad song of Maria Clara to reach her 
 ears, whether other strains of music awoke in her memo- 
 ries 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. 
 
 Doha Consolacion also heard it in her sorrow, and be- 
 came interested in the person who was singing. 
 
 "Tell her to come upstairs at once !" she ordered, after 
 some seconds of meditation. Something like a smile 
 passed over her dry lips. 
 
 They brought the woman and she presented herself 
 without any discomposure, and without manifesting either 
 fear or surprise. 
 
 "Orderly, tell this woman in Tagalog to sing !" said the 
 alfereza. "She don^t understand me; she does not know 
 Spanish." 
 
 The demented woman understood the orderly and sang 
 the song "Night."^ 
 
 Doha Consolacion listened to the beginning with a 
 mocking smile which disappeared gradually from her 
 lips. She became attentive, then more serious and pen- 
 sive. The woman'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: "Sadness, cold, and dampness, wrapped in the 
 mantle of Night descend from the sky," as the folk song 
 
132 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 puts it. It seemed that they were also descending upon 
 her heart. "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 v/ithout 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 soli- 
 tary retreat in the hollow of the old tree, disturbs the 
 melancholy of the forests. . ." 
 
 "No, no ! Do not sing !" exclaimed the alfereza in per- 
 fect Tagalog and raising to her feet somewhat agitated. 
 "Don^t sing! Those verses hurt me!" 
 
 The demented woman stopped. The orderly muttered 
 "Bah !" and exclaimed "She knows how to paid Tagalog !" 
 and stood looking at the senora full of surprise. 
 
 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 : "Dance !" 
 
 The demented one did not move. 
 
 "Dance ! Dance !" she repeated in a threatening voice. 
 
 The poor woman looked at the Senora, her eyes devoid 
 of expression. The alfereza raised one arm and then the 
 other, shaking them in a menacing way. 
 
 She then leaped up in the air, and Jumped around urg- 
 ing the other woman to imitate her. The band in the 
 procession could be heard playing a slow, majestic march, 
 but the Senora, leaping about furiously was keeping time 
 to different music than that the band was playing, that 
 music which resounded within her. A curious look ap- 
 peared in the madwoman's eyes, and a weak smile moved 
 her pale lips. She liked the Senora's dancing. 
 
 The alfereza stopped dancing as if ashamed. She 
 raised the whip, that terrible whip made in Ulango and 
 improved by the alferez by winding wire around it, that 
 
Dona Consolacion. 133 
 
 same terrible whip which the ladrones and soldiers knew 
 so well. 
 
 "Now it is your turn to dance. . . dance!" 
 
 And she began to whip lightly the demented woman's 
 bare feet. 
 
 The pale face contracted with pain, and she was obliged 
 to defend herself from the blows by her hands. 
 
 "Come ! Go ahead !" she exclaimed with savage de- 
 light, and she passed from lento to a allegro-vivace in the 
 use of her whip. 
 
 The unhappy woman screamed and quickly raised her 
 feet. 
 
 "You have got to dance, you d d Indian!" ex- 
 claimed the Senora and the whip whizzed and whistled. 
 
 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 lashs 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. 
 
 The sight of blood excites a tiger; so, too, the sight 
 of the blood of her victim infuriated Dona Consolacion. 
 
 "Dance ! dance ! Curse you ! D n you ! Dance ! 
 
 Cursed be the mother who bore you !" she cried. "Dance, 
 or I'll kill you by whipping you to death !" 
 
 Then the dlfereza, taking the woman with one hand and 
 whipping her with another, began to jump and dance. 
 
 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, con- 
 tempt, mockery and cruelty; a coarse laugh could not 
 have expressed more. 
 
 Absorbed in the enjoyment which the spectacle afforded 
 her, she did not hear her husband coming, until he opened 
 the door with a kick. 
 
 The alferez appeared, pale and gloomy. He saw what 
 ;was going on there and looked daggers at his wife. She 
 
134 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 did not move from her tracks and stood smiling in a 
 cynical way. 
 
 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. 
 
 The silence continued. The alferez was breathing 
 heavily. His wife was observing him with her question- 
 ing eyes. She seized the whip and in a calm and 
 measured tone asked him : "What's the matter with you ? 
 You have not said 'good evening' to me." 
 
 The alferez, without replying, called the orderly. 
 
 "Take this woman," he said, "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 !" 
 
 After carefully closing the door, he turned the key in the 
 lock and approached his senora. 
 
 "You want me to smash you?" he said, clenching his 
 fists. 
 
 "What's the matter with you?" asked she, retreating a 
 step or two. 
 
 "What's the matter with me ?'^ he shouted, in a thunder- 
 ing voice, and, giving vent to an oath, showed her a paper 
 covered with scribbling. He continued: 
 
 "Didn't you write this letter to the Alcalde, saying that 
 
 I am paid for permitting the gambling, d n you? I 
 
 don't know how I can keep from smashing you." 
 
 "Go ahead ! Try it if you dare !" said she, with a mock- 
 ing smile. "He who smashes me has got to be more of a 
 man than you!" 
 
 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. 
 
 "Coward!" she cried. "You dare not come near me!" 
 
 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 
 
Dona Consolacion. 135 
 
 across the face with the whip, and quickly escaped. Clos- 
 ing the door of her room with a slam, she locked herself 
 in. Roaring with rage and pain the alferez followed her, 
 but, coming up against the door, he could do nothing but 
 belch forth a string of blasphemies. 
 
 "Cursed be your ancestors, you swine! Open, d ^n 
 
 you ! Open that door or I'll break your skull !" he howled, 
 pounding and kicking the panels. 
 
 Dona 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. 
 
 "Don't you come in! Don't you come in!" she said, 
 in a bitter voice. "If you show yourself, I'll shoot you \" 
 
 The husband calmed down, little by little, and con- 
 tented himself with pacing from one end of the sala to 
 the other like a wild animal in its cage. 
 
 "Go and cool your head!" continued the woman in 
 mockery. She seemed to have concluded her preparations 
 for defense. 
 
 "I swear that when I catch you, no one — ^not even God 
 — ^will see you again ! I'll smash you so fine." 
 
 'TTes! 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!" she said with such sarcasm as she alone 
 knew how to use. 
 
 The alferez 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. 
 
 The alferez sat down on a chair next to the door and 
 had the patience to wait more than half an hour. 
 
 "Have you really gone out or are you there, you he- 
 goat?" asked a voice from time to time, changing the 
 epithets but raising the tone. 
 
 Finally, she commenced to take away the furniture from 
 her barricade. He heard the noise and smiled. 
 
136 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Orderly ! Has the senor gone out ?" cried Dofia Con- 
 solacion. 
 
 The orderly at a signal from the alferez, replied: "Yes, 
 senora, he has gone out!'' 
 
 He could hear her laugh triumphantly. She drew back 
 the bolt. The husband arose to his feet slowly; the door 
 was opened. 
 
 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? 
 
 The orderly, going out to the kitchen, made a very ex- 
 pressive gesture to the cook. 
 
 "And now you'll catch it !" said the latter. 
 
 "I? No, sir. The town will, not I. She asked me if 
 he had gone out, not if he had returned." 
 
Might and Right. 137 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MIGHT AND RIGHT. 
 
 It was about ten o'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 de- 
 scended from ethereal space to be present at the rejoicings 
 of human beings. An enormous number of wheels had been 
 burned, also castles, bulls, caraboas 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. 
 
 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, fan- 
 tastically 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 any- 
 thing else that might be of use to them. But the music 
 was the signal and all abandoned the lawn for the theatre. 
 
 The large platform was splendidly illuminated. Thou- 
 sands 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 : "There 
 he is ! There he is now \" 
 
 In front of the stage, the orchestra tuned its instru- 
 ments, and, 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 with* 
 
138 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 out titles or rank, filled the rest of the plaza. Some car- 
 ried 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 im- 
 mediately, but soon mount up on their pedestals again as 
 if nothing had happened. 
 
 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 posi- 
 tions, 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 tick- 
 ling. . . . 
 
 The teniente mayor presided at the production since the 
 gobernadorcillo was fonder of monte. 
 
 Maria Clara and her friends had arrived, and Don Filipo 
 received them, and accompanied them to their seats. Be- 
 hind 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. 
 
 "May God reward them in another life,^' said the old 
 man, referring to them as he walked away from Maria 
 Clara's party. 
 
 The performance began with Chananay and Marianito 
 in Crispinoe la Comare. Everybody had eyes and ears 
 intent upon the stage, except one. Father Salvi. 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'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 con- 
 templated from afar the Paradise whose delights his 
 mother had pictured to him. 
 
Might and Right. 139 
 
 The act was just ending when Ibarra arrived. His pres- 
 ence occasioned a buzz of conversation. The attention of 
 everybody was fixed on him and on the curate. 
 
 But the young man did not seem to be aware of it, 
 for he greeted Maria Clara and her friends with natural- 
 ness and sat down at their side. The only one who spoke 
 was Sinang. 
 
 "Did you see the volcano when they touched it off?'* 
 she asked. 
 
 "No, my little friend. I had to accompany the Gov- 
 ernor General." 
 
 "Well, that is too bad ! The curate came with us and 
 he was telling us stories about condemned people. What 
 do you think ? Doesn't he do it to make us afraid so that 
 we cannot enjoy ourselves? How does it appear to you?'' 
 
 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. 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot please Your Reverence," 
 said the latter. "Senor 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 "I always hold myself responsible for acts which 
 emanate from my own will, Father," replied Don Filipo, 
 slightly inclining his head. "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. Senor Ibarra does not force himself on 
 any one." 
 
 "But he affords danger. He who loves danger perishes 
 in it." 
 
 "I don't see any danger. Father. The Alcalde 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." 
 
 "If you don't put him out of here, we will leave/' 
 
140 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "I am very, very sorry, but I cannot put any one out of 
 here." 
 
 The curate repented having said what he did, but now 
 there was no alternative. He made a signal to his com- 
 panion, 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. 
 
 Murmurs and whispers increased. Then various per- 
 sons approached and saluted the young man and said: 
 
 "We are with you. Take no notice of them.'' 
 
 "Who are Hhem'f^ he asked with surprise. 
 
 "Those who have gone out in order to avoid contact 
 with you." 
 
 "To avoid contact with me? Contact with me?'* 
 
 "Yes, they say that you are excommunicated." 
 
 Ibarra, surprised, did not know what to say and looked 
 around him. He saw Maria Clara, who was hiding her 
 face behind her fan. 
 
 "But is it possible?" he exclaimed at last. "Are we 
 still in the darkness of the Middle Ages ? So that " 
 
 And turning to the young women and changing his 
 tone, he said: 
 
 "Excuse me; I have forgotten an appointment. I will 
 return to accompany you home." 
 
 "Stay !" said Sinang. "Yeyeng is going to dance in the 
 ^La Calandria,' She dances divinely." 
 
 "I cannot, my little friend, but I will certainly re- 
 turn." 
 
 The murmurs increased. 
 
 While Yeyeng, dressed in the style of the lower 
 class of Madrid, was coming on the stage with the remark : 
 "Z?<z UsU su permisof* (Do you give your permission?) 
 and as Carvajal was replying to her '^Pase uste adelante" 
 (Pass forward), two soldiers of the Civil Guard ap- 
 proached Don Filipo, asking him to suspend the per- 
 formance. 
 
 "And what for?" asked he, surprised at the request. 
 
 "Because the alferez and his Senora have been fight- 
 ing and they cannot sleep." 
 
 '^ou tell the alferez that we have permission from the 
 
Might and Right. 141 
 
 Alcalde, and that no one in the town has any authority 
 over him, not even the gohernadorcillo, who is my on-ly 
 su-per-ior." 
 
 "Well, you will have to suspend the performance," re- 
 peated the soldiers. 
 
 Don Filipo turned his back to them. The guards 
 marched off. 
 
 In order not to disturb the general tranquillity, Don 
 Filipo said not a word about the matter to any one. 
 
 After a piece of light opera, which was heartily ap- 
 plauded, 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 "Eiego Hymn,"* a tumult in- 
 tervened. All of a sudden, the orchestra stopped play- 
 ing and the musicians made a rush for the stage, throw- 
 ing their instruments in all directions. The brave Vil- 
 lardo 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. "Tulisanes! Tuli- 
 sanesT cried some. "Fire! Fire! LadronesT cried 
 others. Women and children wept, chairs and spectators 
 were rolled over on the floor in the midst of the confusion, 
 rush and tumult. 
 
 "What has happened?" 
 
 Two Civil Guards with sticks in hand had gone after 
 the musicians in order to put an end to the spectacle. 
 The teniente mayor, with the cuaderilleros,\ armed with 
 their old sabers, had managed to arrest the two Civil 
 Guards in spite of their resistance. 
 
 * A popular Spanish song handed down from the time of 
 Riego's uprising in Spain, 
 f Volunteer police. 
 
142 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Take them to the tribunal !" shouted Dm Filipo. "Be 
 careful not to let them get away!" 
 
 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 lita- 
 nies in Latin. 
 
 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's breast. 
 Stones rained upon the Civil Guards who were being con- 
 ducted to the tribunal by the cuaderilleros. Some one 
 proposed that they burn the barracks of the Civil Guards 
 and that they roast Dona Consolacion and the alferez 
 alive. 
 
 "That is all that they are good for,'' cried a woman, 
 rolling up her sleeves and stretching out her arms. "They 
 can disturb the people but they persecute none but hon- 
 orable men. They do nothing with the tuUsanes and the 
 gamblers. Look at them! Let us burn the cuartel/* 
 
 Somebody had been wounded in the arm and was ask- 
 ing 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 
 "Trovador," talking in corrupted Spanish with Eatia, 
 who was in a school teacher'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. 
 
 But a nucleus for a mob already formed. Don 
 Filipo knew what was their intention and tried to stop 
 them. 
 
 "Do not break the peace!" he shouted. "To-morrow 
 we will demand satisfaction : we will have justice. I will 
 take the responsibility for our getting justice.'* 
 
 "No!" some replied. "They did the same thing in 
 Calamba. The same thing was promised^ but the Alcalde 
 
Might and Right. 143 
 
 did nothing. We want justice done by ouf own hands. 
 To the cuarteir 
 
 In vain the teniente mayor 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. 
 
 "Senor Ibarra, for my sake, as a favor, hold them while 
 I seek some cuaderilleros." 
 
 "What can I do?" asked the young man, perplexed. 
 But the teniente mayor was already in the distance. 
 
 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: 
 
 "For heaven's sake ! Do something, if you can ! I can- 
 not do anything." 
 
 The pilot must have understood, for he lost himself in 
 the mob. 
 
 Lively discussions were heard mingled with strong in- 
 terjections. 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 cuaderilleros were coming 
 to the scene with fixed bayonets. 
 
 In the meantime, what was the curate doing? 
 
 Father Salvl 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
144 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 are not heard; they fall; are trampled over; fear and 
 fright overcome modesty, and under cover of dark- 
 ness. ... He fancied he conld see Ibarra carrying 
 Maria Clara fainting in his arms, and then disappearing 
 in the darkness. 
 
 With leaps and bounds, he went down the stairs with- 
 out hat, or cane, and, almost like a crazy person, turned 
 toward the plaza. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Father curate! Father curate!" shouted the Span- 
 iards to him, but he took no notice and ran on in the 
 direction of the house of Captain Tiago. There he re- 
 covered his breath. He saw through the transparent 
 shade, a shadow — that adorable shadow, so graceful and 
 delicate in its contour — ^that of Maria Clara. He could 
 also see another shadow, that of her aunt carrying cups 
 and glasses. 
 
 "Well!" he muttered to himself. "It seems that she 
 has only fallen ill." 
 
 Aunt Isabel afterward closed the shell windows and 
 the graceful shadow could no longer be seen. 
 
 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 breath- 
 ing sweetly. Her eyelids were shaded by long lashes, 
 which formed graceful curves like those on Eafael's vir- 
 gins. Her small mouth was smiling, and her whole coun- 
 tenance 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? 
 
Two Visitors. 145 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 TWO VISITORS. 
 
 Ibarra found his mind in such a state that it was im- 
 possible 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. Morn- 
 ing 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. 
 
 A servant entered, announcing the arrival of a peas- 
 ant. 
 
 "Let him enter!" said he, without even turning to 
 look. 
 
 Elias entered and remained standing in silence. 
 
 "Ah! is it you?" Ibarra exclaimed in Tagalog on 
 recognizing him. "Excuse me if I have kept you wait- 
 ing. I was not aware of your presence. I was making 
 an important experiment." 
 
 "I do not wish to disturb you!" replied the young 
 pilot. "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." 
 
 Ibarra looked inquiringly at the pilot. 
 
 "The daughter of Captain Tiago is ill," added Elias 
 quietly, "but the illness is not serious." 
 
 "I had already feared it," responded Ibarra. "Do you 
 know what the illness is?" 
 
 "A fever. Now, if you have nothing to order '* 
 
 "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." 
 
 Elias bowed. 
 
146 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ^^How were you able to quiet the mob last night ?" asked 
 Ibarra, fixing his eyes on him. 
 
 "In a very simple way," replied Elias, with entire frank- 
 ness. "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." 
 
 "And those two brothers whose father died by being 
 whipped to death?" 
 
 "They will end their lives in the same way," replied 
 Elias in a low voice. "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." 
 
 And Elias, seeing that Ibarra was silent, took his leave. 
 
 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. 
 
 "I — I have made her suffer," he muttered. 
 
 He quickly dressed himself and descended the stairs. 
 
 A little man, dressed in mourning, with a large scar 
 on his left cheek, meekly saluted him, stopping him on 
 his way. 
 
 "What do you wish?" Ibarra asked him. 
 
 "Senor, my name is Lucas. I am the brother of the 
 man who was killed yesterday during the ceremony when 
 the stone was being laid." 
 
 "Ah ! You have my sympathy — and, well ?" 
 
 ^'Senor, I wish to know how much you are going to pay 
 my brother's family." 
 
 "How much I am going to pay?" repeated the young 
 man without being able to conceal a bored expression. 
 "We will talk that over. Come back this afternoon, for 
 I am busy to-day." 
 
 "Only tell me how much you are going to pay," in- 
 sisted Lucas. 
 
 "I have told you that we would talk about that some 
 other time. I'm too busy to-day,'' said Ibarra, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
Two Visitors. 147 
 
 "You haven't time now, senor?" asked Lucas witH bit- 
 terness and putting himself in front of the young man. 
 "You do not have time to occupy yourself about the 
 dead?^' 
 
 "Come this afternoon, my good fellow!" repeated 
 Ibarra, restraining himself. "To-day I have to go and 
 see a sick person." 
 
 "Ah! and you forget the dead for a sick person? Do 
 you think that because we are poor " 
 
 Ibarra looked at him and cut off what he was saying. 
 
 "Don't try my patience !" said he, and went on his way. 
 Lucas stood looking at him, with a smile on his face, fidl 
 of hatred. 
 
 "You do not know that you are a grandson of the man 
 who exposed my father to the sun !" he muttered between 
 his teeth. 'TTou have the very same blood in your veins !" 
 
 And, changing his tone he added: 
 
 '^ut if you pay well, we are friends." 
 
148 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 EPISODE IN" ESPADANA^S LIFE. 
 
 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 enjoy- 
 ing 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. 
 
 Enough sadness reigned in Captain Tiago'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. 
 
 "What do you think, Isabel? Shall I make a donation 
 to the cross of Tunasan or to the cross of Matahong?" 
 asked the solicitous father in a low voice. "The cross of 
 Tunason grows, but that of Matahong sweats. Which do 
 you think is the most miraculous ?" 
 
 Isabel thought for a moment, moved her head and 
 murmured: "To grow — to grow is more miraculous than 
 to sweat. We all sweat, but we do not all grow.'' 
 
 "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 senor comes with 
 the doctors, a relative of Father Damaso by marriage. 
 It is necessary that nothing be lacking." 
 
 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. 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 149 
 
 "Do you know Doctor Espadana ?" asked Maria Clara's 
 foster sister, directing her question to Victoria. 
 
 "No !" replied the latter. "The only thing that I know 
 about him is that he charges very dearly, according to 
 Captain Tiago." 
 
 "Then he ought to be very good," said Andeng. "The 
 one who performed the operation on the stomach of 
 Dona Marta charged a big price, but he was very wise." 
 
 "You goose !" exclaimed Sinang. "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's head, he collected one hundred pesos 
 from the widower. What he did know was how to charge." 
 
 "What do you know about it?" her cousin asked, giv- 
 ing her a jab with her elbow. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I know about it? The husband, who 
 is a wood-sawyer, after losing his wife, had to lose his 
 house also, for the Alcalde was a friend of the doctor's 
 and made him pay. Why shouldn't I know? My father 
 loaned him money so that he could make a trip to Santa 
 Cruz." 
 
 A coach stopped before the house and cut off all the 
 conversation. 
 
 Captain Tiago, followed by Aunt Isabel, ran downstairs 
 to receive the new arrivals. They were the doctor, Don 
 Tiburcio de Espadana, his wife, Doctora Dona Victorina 
 de los Reyes de de Espadaiia; and a young Spaniard. 
 The latter had a sympathetic face and a pleasing ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 The doctora wore a silk gown, embroidered with flowers, 
 and on her hat, a large parrot half crushed among trim- 
 mings 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. 
 
 "I have the pleasure to present to you our cousin, Don 
 Alfonso Linares de Espadana," said Dona Yictorina, 
 pointing toward the young man. "The gentleman is a 
 god-son of a relative of Father Damaso, and is private 
 secretary to all the ministers." 
 
150 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 The young man bowed gracefully. Captain Tiago al- 
 most kissed his hand. 
 
 Dona Victorina was a woman of about forty-five 
 summers, which, according to her arithmetical calcula- 
 tions, 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. 
 
 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 re- 
 alized her dream ; but she knew well the proverb — "Better 
 late than never," and consoled herself by repeating it 
 again and again. "There is no complete happiness on 
 this earth," was her other favorite proverb, but neither of 
 these ever passed her lips in the presence of other people. 
 
 Dona Yictorina, after passing her first, second, third 
 and fourth youth in fishing in the sea of men for the ob- 
 ject 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 — the difference according to 
 her arithmetic was very great — 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 con- 
 tent 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 IJlysses, found at last in the island 
 of Luzon, hospitality, money, and a faded Calypso, his 
 better half — ^but alas! a bitter half. He was known as 
 the unhappy Tiburcio Espadana, and, although he was 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 151 
 
 thirty-five years old and seemed even older, he was, how- 
 ever, younger than Dona Victorina, who was only thirty- 
 two. 
 
 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 cuarto. 
 
 Distrusting the sea, he did not wish to return to Spain 
 without having made a fortune. So he decided to de- 
 vote 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 liv- 
 ing, but the prestige of the Spaniard did not permit this, 
 nor did that prestige provide him with the necessities of 
 life. 
 
 At first he lived at the expense of some of his coun- 
 trymen, 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 neces- 
 sity 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. 
 
 Private citizens and professors interceded in his be- 
 half. "Man!" said the zealous Doctor C. in speaking 
 of him. "Let him make his little money. Let him make 
 
152 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 his little six or seven thousand pesos. 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 na- 
 tives. Then they may become smarter. He is a poor, 
 unhappy fellow. Do not take the bread from his mouth. 
 Be a good Spaniard!" 
 
 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 
 l3y little Don Tiburcio Espadana 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 Dona Victorina about the posi- 
 tion 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. 
 
 Dona Victorina and Don Tiburcio met. Tarde venienti- 
 hus ossa, 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. 
 
 At the end of half an hour'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 categoria, as she called it. But this class of 
 Spaniards never came to ask her hand. She had heard, 
 too, more than once that "opportunity is bald,^' and she 
 honestly believed that Don Tiburcio was that very oppor- 
 tunity, for on account of his dark days he had prema- 
 turely lost his hair. What woman is not prudent at 
 thirty-two ? 
 
 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 pre- 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 153 
 
 tensions. 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'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 countr3rmen who came from 
 beyond the seas, he embarked for the Philippines — ^then 
 the vision of a housekeeper gave way to an image of an 
 arrogant mestiza, 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. 
 
 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's popular and fashionable drives, 
 looked at him with a certain curiosity. Later, when this 
 curiosity on their part had ceased, the mestiza 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: "That was a dream, but 
 in the world one does not live in dreams." 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? — love modifies character; she spoke Span- 
 
154 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ish 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 be- 
 sides, 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 : "Give me 
 bread and call me a fool/' 
 
 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 impor- 
 tance, 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 : "But it is necessary to live !" 
 
 So they were married and went to Santa Ana to pass 
 their honeymoon. But on the night of the wedding Dona 
 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. 
 
 Dona 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 calesas, 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. 
 
 In the meantime, while she was transforming her hus- 
 band, she did not forget xier own person. She laid aside 
 the silk saya or Filipino skirt and 'pifia cloth bodice, for 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 155 
 
 a dress of European style. She substituted false curls 
 in front for the simple hair dress of the Filipinos. Her 
 dresses, which fitted her '^divinely bad," disturbed the 
 peace and tranquillity of the entire neighborhood. 
 
 The husband never went out of the house afoot — 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 honejrmoon, she kept silent. 
 
 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. 
 Dona Victorina frowned and looked squarely at his front 
 set of teeth. He at once became «ilent, and she learned 
 his weakness. 
 
 She soon got the idea that she was to become a mother 
 and made the following announcement to all her friends: 
 "Next month, we, I and de Espadana are going to the 
 Peninsula.* I don't want to have my son born here and 
 have them call him a revolutionist.'' 
 
 She added a de to her husband's name. The de did 
 not cost anything and gave categoria to the name. When 
 she signed herself, she wrote Victorina de los Keyes de 
 de Espadana. That de de Espadana was her mania. 
 Neither the lithographer who printed her cards, nor her 
 husband, could get the idea out of her head. 
 
 "If I do not put more than one de in the name people 
 will think that I haven't it, fool!" said she to her hus- 
 band. 
 
 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 — "I am going to see the sismus 
 of the Suez Canal. De Espadana thinks that it is the 
 most beautiful, and De Espadana has seen the whole 
 world." — "I will probably never return to this land of 
 savages." — "I was not born to live here. Aden or Port 
 Said would be more suitable for me. I have always 
 
 * A wrong pronunciation of the Spanish Peninsula meaning 
 Spain . 
 
156 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 thought so since I was a child/' Dona Vict^rlna, in her 
 geography, divided the world into two parts, the Philip- 
 pines 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 tlie same country. 
 
 The husband knew that some of these things were bar- 
 barisms, 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 il- 
 lusion! Three months passed and the dream vanished. 
 By this time, having no fear that her son would be a Tevo-» 
 lutionist, she gave up the voyage. She consulted doc- 
 tors, 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 huband told 
 her: 
 
 ^'Believe me, Senora, you are the only espiritu fuerte 
 (strong-minded person) in this country." 
 
 She smiled without understanding what espiritu fuerte 
 meant, but, at night, when it was time to be sleeping, sh3 
 asked her husband about it. 
 
 "Daughter,'^ replied he, '^the e — espir — espiritu most 
 fu-fuerte that I know — know about is a — a — ammonia. 
 My fr-fr-friend must have be-been us-using a figure of 
 rhetoric." 
 
 From that time on, she was always saying, whenever 
 she could, "I am the only ammonia in this country, speak- 
 ing rhetorically, as Sehor N. de 'N. who is from the Pen- 
 insula and who has much categoria, puts it." 
 
 Whatever she said had to be done. She had come to 
 dominate her husband completely. On his part, he of- 
 fered 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 in- 
 furiated, she would snatch out his false teeth and leave 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 157 
 
 him a horrible-looking man for one or more days, ac- 
 cording to the offense. 
 
 It occurred to her that her husband ought to be a Doc- 
 tor of Medicine and Surgery, and so she expressed herself 
 to him. 
 
 "Daughter ! Do you want them to arrest me ?" he said, 
 frightened. 
 
 "Don't be a fool. Let me arrange it!" she replied. 
 "You are not going to attend any one, but I want them 
 to call you a doctor and me a doctoral eh?" 
 
 And on the following day Rodoreda, a prominent mar- 
 ble dealer in Manila, received an order for the following 
 engraving on black marble: Dr. De Espadana, Spe- 
 cialist IN All Kinds of Diseases. 
 
 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 categoria 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. 
 
 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 remem- 
 bered that he had once made love to her in vain, he would 
 go at once to the church and give a peso for a mass as a 
 thank offering for his good luck in not marrying her. 
 In spite of this, Captain Tiago highly respected her hus- 
 band, on account of his title of "specialist in all kinds of 
 diseases," 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 at- 
 tend his daughter. 
 
 As to the young man Linares, it is a different story. 
 When she was making ready for her voyage to Spain, 
 Dona Victorina thought of having an administrator from 
 the Peninsula to look after her affairs, for she did not 
 trust Filipinos. Her husband remembered a nephew in 
 
158 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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. 
 
 These are the three persons who had just arrived. 
 
 While they were eating their breakfast, Father Salvi 
 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. 
 
 As was natural they spoke of Maria Clara. The young 
 maiden was resting and sleeping. They talked over the 
 voyage. Dona Victorina showed her verbosity by criti- 
 cising the customs of the provinces, the nipa houses, the 
 bamboo bridges, without forgetting to tell the curate 
 about her friendship with the Commander of the Army, 
 the Alcalde so and so. Judge so and so of the Supreme 
 Court, and with the governor of the province, all persons 
 of categoria, who had much consideration for her. 
 
 "If you had come two days before. Dona Victorina," 
 replied Captain Tiago during a short pause, "you would 
 have met His Excellency, the Governor General. He sat 
 right there.'' 
 
 "What? How's that? Was His Excellency here? 
 And in your house ? A lie !" 
 
 "I tell you he sat right there. If you had come two 
 days before " 
 
 "Ah! What a shame that little Clara did not fall 
 sick before!" exclaimed she, in real sorrow. And direct- 
 ing herself to Linares: "Do you hear, cousin? His Ex- 
 cellency was here ! You see De Espadana was right when 
 he told you that we were not going to the house of a mis- 
 erable 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)/' 
 
 "Duke de la Torre (tower), Victorina," said her hus- 
 band, correcting her. 
 
 "It amounts to the same thing. Do you think you 
 can tell me that " 
 
 ^'Would I find Father Damaso in town to-day?" in- 
 
Episode in Espadana's Life. 159 
 
 terrupted Linares, turning to Father Salvi. "They have 
 told me that he is near here." 
 
 "He is, precisely, and will come here in a little while/' 
 replied the curate. 
 
 "How glad I am ! I have a letter for him/' exclaimed 
 the young man. "And if it had not been for this happy 
 chance which brought me here, I would have come, ex- 
 pressly to visit him.'' 
 
 "The happy chance — that is, Maria Clara — ^had, in the 
 meantime awakened." 
 
 "De Espadana!" said Dona Yictorina, finishing her 
 breakfast. "Are we going to see little Clara?" And 
 turning to Captain Tiago, "For you only, Don Santiago; 
 for you alone! My husband does not treat anybody ex- 
 cept people of categoria, and he even refuses some of 
 them ! My husband is not like those about here — ^in 
 Madrid he only visited people of categoria" 
 
 They passed into the sick room. 
 
 The room was almost dark. The windows were shut 
 for fear of a draught, and the little light which illumi- 
 nated the room came from the two wax candles which 
 were burning in front of an image of the Virgin of Anti- 
 polo. 
 
 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 kamakon * among jusi and pifia cur- 
 tains. 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. 
 
 De Espadana felt of her pulse, examined her tongue, 
 asked some questions, and shaking his head seriously, said : 
 
 "Sh-sh-she is si-sick. But we-we-we can cu-cu-cure 
 her." 
 
 Dona Victorina looked with pride at those around 
 her. 
 
 "A li-lichen in mil-milk in the-the morning; syrup 
 of marsh marsh-mal-mallow, tw-o — two hounds' — ^hounds' 
 tongue pi-pills/' orde red De Espadana. 
 
 * A costly and rich wood like ebony. 
 
160 Friars and Filipinos." 
 
 "Take courage, little Clara/* said Dona Yictorina, ap- 
 proaching her. "We have come to cure you. I am going 
 to present our cousin to you." 
 
 Linares was absorbed, contemplating those eloquent eyes 
 which seemed to be seeking some one, and he did not hear 
 Doiia Victorina call him. 
 
 "Seiior Linares," said the curate, calling him out of 
 his ecstacy. "Here comes Father Damaso." 
 
 In fact. Father Damaso was coming, pale and some- 
 what sad. On leaving his bed, his first visit was to Maria 
 Clara. He was no longer the Father Damaso that he 
 had been, so robust and talkative. He now walked along 
 in silence and .with unsteady footsteps. 
 
Schemes. 161 
 
 CHAPTEK XXV. 
 
 SCHEMES. 
 
 Without paying attention to anybody, Father Damaso 
 went straight to the sick room and took hold of Maria's 
 hand. 
 
 "Maria!" said he, with indescribable tenderness, as 
 tears dropped from his eyes. "Maria, my child, you are 
 not going to die V' 
 
 Maria opened her eyes and looked at him with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 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. 
 
 Father Damaso 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's balcony under her favorite vines. 
 
 "How he loves his god-daughter!" thought they all. 
 
 Father Salvi witnessed the scene, immovable and silent, 
 lightly biting his lips. 
 
 When his grief was somewhat soothed. Father Damaso 
 was introduced by Dona Victorina to the young Linares, 
 who approached the friar with respect. 
 
 Father Damaso 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: 
 
 "And who are you?" 
 
 "Alfonso Linares, the god-son of your brother-in-law," 
 stammered the young man. 
 
 Father Damaso leaned back and examined the young 
 man again. His face brightened up and he rose to his 
 feet. 
 
 "And so you are the god-son of little Charles!" he ex- 
 
162 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 claimed. "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 — ^but that is easily explained, for you 
 were not yet born when I left the country. I never knew 
 you.^' 
 
 And Father Damaso stretched out his robust arms to 
 the young man who blushed, either from shame or suf- 
 focation. Father Damaso seemed to have completely for- 
 gotten his grief. 
 
 After the first moments of effusion had passed, and 
 questions had been asked about Carlicos, as he called little 
 Charles, Father Damaso asked: 
 
 "Well. What does Carlicos want me to do for you?" 
 
 "I believe he says something in the letter," stammered 
 Linares again. 
 
 "In the letter? Let us see. 'Tis so! And he wants 
 me to get you a job and a wife! Hm! Employment — 
 employment: that is easy. Do you know how to read 
 and write?" 
 
 "I have graduated in law from the Central Univer- 
 sity.'^ 
 
 ^'Caranibas! So you are a pettifogger? Well, you 
 don't look it — ^you look more like a young gentleman. 
 But so much the better! But to find you a wife — ^hm! 
 hm! a wife." 
 
 "Father, I am not in a hurry about it," said Linares, 
 confused. 
 
 But Father Damaso began to walk from one end of 
 the room to the other, muttering: "A wife! A wife!" 
 
 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 Salvi surveyed the scene 
 from a distance. 
 
 "I did not believe that it could give me such pain," 
 murmured Father Damaso in a mournful voice. "But of 
 two evils the lesser." 
 
 And raising his voice and approaching Linares, he 
 said: 
 
 "Come here, my boy! We will speak with Santiago." 
 
 Linares turned pale and allowed himself to be led 
 along by the priest, who was deep in thought. 
 
Schemes. 163 
 
 TEen it was Father Salvfs turn to walk up and down 
 the room and he did so, meditating, as was his custom. 
 
 A voice bidding him good morning stopped his monot- 
 onous tread. He raised his head and his eyes met Lucas, 
 who saluted him humbly. 
 
 '^hat do you want?" asked the eyes of the curate. 
 
 "Father, I am the brother of the man who was killed 
 on the day of the fiesta," replied Lucas, in a tearful 
 tone. 
 
 Father Salvi stepped back. 
 
 "And what of it?" he muttered, in an unintelligible 
 voice. 
 
 Lucas made an ejffort to weep, and dried his eyes with 
 his handkerchief. 
 
 "Father," said he, crying, "I have been to Crisosto- 
 mo's house to ask him for indemnity. At first, he re- 
 ceived me with kicks, saying that he would not pay any- 
 thing, 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's sake five hundred 
 pesos for my poor brother — five hundred pesos — ah! 
 Father." 
 
 The curate listened to the first part of his story with 
 surprise and attention, but slowly there appeared on his 
 lips a smile — 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. 
 
 "And what do you want now?" he asked, turning his 
 back to him. 
 
 "Alas! Father, for love of God tell me what I ought 
 to do. Father, you have always given good advice." 
 
 "Who has told you that? You do not live here." 
 
 "But the whole province knows you. Father!" 
 
 Father Salvi went up to him with his eyes full of anger 
 and, motioning to the street, said to the frightened 
 Lucas : 
 
 "Go to your house and give thanks to Don Crisostomo 
 that he has not sent you to jail. Get away from here." 
 
 Forgetting his role, Lucas muttered; 
 
 ^^ell, I thought " 
 
164 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Out of here!" cried Father Salvi, in a nervous tone. 
 
 "I want to see Father Damaso/' 
 
 "Father Damaso is busy. Out of here!" ordered the 
 curate, in an imperative tone, again. 
 
 Lucas went down the stairs murmuring: "He is an- 
 other. How poorly he pays ! He who pays better. . . ." 
 
 The voice of the curate had reached the ears of all 
 in the house, even Father Damaso, Captain Tiago and 
 Linares. 
 
 "An insolent beggar who came to ask alms and doesn't 
 want to work," said Father Salvi, taking his hat and cane 
 and starting toward the convent. 
 
The Persecuted. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 THE PERSECUTED. 
 
 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 after- 
 ward proceeded in the direction of the distant sound. 
 
 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 foli- 
 age, filled the middle of the open space. 
 
 Scarcely had the unknown man arrived, when another 
 figure quickly appeared from behind one of the large rocks, 
 advanced and drew a revolver. 
 
 "Who are you?" he asked in Tagalog and, in an im- 
 perious voice, as he cocked the hammer of his weapon. 
 
 "Is old Pablo among you ?' asked the first calmly, with- 
 out replying to the question or becoming intimidated. 
 
 "Do you refer to the Captain? Yes, he is." 
 
 "Tell him, then, that Elias is looking for him here,^' 
 said the n^ian. 
 
 "Are you Elias?" asked the other with a certain re- 
 spect, and aproaching him without lowering his revolver. 
 "Then come." 
 
 Elias followed him. 
 
 They penetrated into a kind of cavern, which was hol- 
 lowed 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 
 
166 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 sola or room in the cave, miserably illuminated by pitcK 
 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 thought- 
 fully the lamp, which was shedding very little light fot 
 the amount of smoke it made, sat an old man. His coun- 
 tenance was sad, and his head wrapped in a bloody rag. 
 If we had not known that the place was a cave of tuU- 
 sanes, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 '^Is it you?" asked the old man, his face brightening 
 a little as he recognized the youth. 
 
 "How badly off you are !" murmured Elias, in an half- 
 intelligible tone of voice. 
 
 The old man bowed in silence, made a sign to the men, 
 who then arose and left, not, however, without first direct- 
 ing glances at the pilot, measuring his stature and mus- 
 cles. 
 
 '^Yes !" said the old man to Elias as soon as they found 
 themselves alone. "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." 
 
 "Some fifteen days ago they told me of your misfor- 
 tune," replied the young man slowly, and in a low voice, 
 looking toward the light. "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. 
 "Bather than spill innocent blood," said Pablo, "I have 
 
The Persecuted. 167 
 
 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." 
 
 Then, after a short pause, of which Elias took advan- 
 tage to read the thoughts in that melancholy countenance, 
 he replied: 
 
 "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." 
 
 The old man shook his head and said: 
 
 "At my age, when a person makes a desperate resolu- 
 tion 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 — 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 fire- 
 side, 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 — ^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 de- 
 spite it all, I, a father, I, dishonored in my old age, par- 
 doned 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, 
 
168 * Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 
 v/as a calumny, that the curate was transferred to another 
 town and that my son died from the result of his tor- 
 tures? 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 
 cedula* 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 re- 
 venged! The discontented are uniting under my com- 
 mand, 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 
 GodP 
 
 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: 
 
 "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 tor- 
 ture. I was not born to be a father ! For that reason, I 
 
 * Certificate of identification required of all Filipinos under 
 Spanish domination. 
 
The Persecuted. 169 
 
 haven't tHem with me now ! Curses upon me for not hav- 
 ing 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 !" 
 
 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. 
 
 "I respect your grief,'' replied Elias, "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." 
 
 "You can forget them because you are young, and be- 
 cause 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 re- 
 ceive that in order not to kill a poor cuaderillero who was 
 fulfilling his duty." 
 
 "But see!" said Elias, after a moment's silence. "See 
 what frightful destruction you will bring upon our un- 
 fortunate 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 al- 
 ways accused, and then how many more injustices V* 
 
 "Let the people learn to defend themselves. Let each 
 learn to defend himself." 
 
 "You know that that is impossible. Senor, I have 
 known you in other times when you were happy, then you 
 gave me wise advice. Will you permit me. . . ?" 
 
 The old man crossed his arms and seemed to meditate 
 upon what he was going to say. 
 
 "Senor," continued Elias, measuring his words well, 
 "I have had the fortune to be of service to a young man, 
 rich, of good heart, noble, and a lover of his country's wel- 
 fare. They say that this young man has friends in Mad- 
 rid. 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's complaints, 
 if we can interest him in the cause of the unhappy?" 
 
 The old man shook his head. 
 
 "Do you say that he is a rich man? The rich think of 
 
170 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 nothing but to increase their riches. Pride and pomp 
 blind them, and, since they are generally well off, espe- 
 cially if they have powerful friends, none of them ever 
 troubles himself about the unfortunates. I know it all, 
 for I was once rich myself.^' 
 
 "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 — ^thinks of a good future 
 for his sons, for he may in a short time have a family of his 
 own.^^ 
 
 "Then he is a man who is going to be happy. Our cause 
 is not a cause for happy men." 
 
 "But it is a cause for men of good hearts.'^ 
 
 "That may be," replied the old man sitting down. "Sup- 
 pose that he consented to carry our complaints to the Gov- 
 ernor General. Suppose that he finds in the court those 
 who will argue for us. Do you think we will get justice ?" 
 
 "Let us try it before resorting to bloody measures," re- 
 plied Elias. "It must seem strange to you that I, another 
 unfortunate, young, robust — that I should propose to you 
 old and weak — 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." 
 
 "And if we do not accomplish anything ?" 
 
 "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." 
 
 The old man, full of enthusiasm, embraced the young 
 man. 
 
 "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 — ^my sons who were like you !" 
 
 "In the meantime, Senor, avoid all violent measures." 
 
 ^^ou can expound the complaints of the people. You 
 certainly know them. When will we know the answer?" 
 
 'Within four days send a man to meet me on the 
 beach at San Diego and I will tell him what the person 
 
The Persecuted. 171 
 
 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." 
 
 "Elias will not die. Elias will be chief, when Captain 
 Pablo falls, satisfied in his revenge," said the old man. 
 
172 Friars and Filipinos 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE COCK FIGHT. 
 
 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 intro- 
 duced 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 suc- 
 ceed 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 — eight hours. 
 
 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 pesos 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 com- 
 merce. Blessed be the vice which produces such good re- 
 sults ! In this first precinct are the venders 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. 
 
 This precinct communicates with another of slightly 
 
The Cock Fight. 173 
 
 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's legs; 
 there, bargains are made, the situation discussed, money 
 borrowed, and people curse, swear and laugh boister- 
 ously. 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'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 — 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 peseta, stewed in ginger and eaten that very night. 
 Sic transit gloria mundi! 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, 
 f i-om all that, results a peseta, the ashes left from so much 
 smoke. 
 
 In this foyer, 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, 
 aiid 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, 
 ^gemess. 
 
 From this place, one passes into the arena or rueda, 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 touch- 
 
174 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ing the roof, are rows of seats for the spectators or gam- 
 blers — ^they come to be the same. During the combat these 
 seats are filled with men and children who cry, shout, per- 
 spire, quarrel, and blaspheme. Fortunately, scarcely any 
 women visit the cock-pit. In the rueda 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. 
 
 As we enter, we can see the gohernadorcillo. Captain 
 Pablo, Captain Basilio, and Lucas, the man with the scar 
 on his face who was so disconsolate over the death of his 
 brother. 
 
 Captain Basilio approaches one of those present and asks 
 him: 
 
 "Do you know what cock Captain Tiago is going to 
 briqg?" 
 
 "I do not know, Senor. This morning two arrived, one 
 of them the lasak (black sprinkled with white) which 
 whipped the Consul's talisain (red, sprinkled with black)." 
 
 "Do you think that my bulih (black, red and white), can 
 beat him?'' 
 
 "Yes, I surely do. I'll stake my house and shirt on 
 him!' 
 
 At that moment Captain Tiago arrived. He was 
 dressed, like the big gamblers, in a camisa of Canton linen, 
 \\ax)len pantaloons, and a panama-straw hat. Behind him 
 came two servants, carrying the IdsaJc and a white cock 
 of colossal proportions. 
 
 "Sinang tells me that Maria Clara is improving stead- 
 ily," said Captain Basilio. 
 
 "She no longer has any fever, but she is still weak." 
 
 "Did you lose last night?" 
 
 "A little. I heard that you won. . . I am going to see 
 if I can win back my money." 
 
 "Do you want to fight your Idsahf asked Captain Ba- 
 silio, looking at the rooster. 
 
 "That depends on whether there is any money up." 
 
 "How much will you stake ?" 
 
 "I don't play less than two thousand." 
 
The Cock Fight. 175 
 
 "Have you seen my huliJc f asked Captain Basilio, and 
 then called a man to bring a small rooster. 
 
 Captain Tiago examined it, and after weighing it in his 
 hand, and examining its scales, he handed it back. 
 
 "What do you put up ?" he asked. 
 
 'Whatever you say." 
 
 "Two thousand five hundred?" 
 
 "Make it three?" 
 
 "Three." 
 
 "Let her go!" 
 
 The circle of curious people and gamblers learn that 
 the two celebrated cocks are to be fought. Both the roost- 
 ers have made a history for themselves ; both have a repu- 
 tation. All want to see and examine the two celebrities. 
 Opinions are expressed, and prophecies made. 
 
 In the meantime the voices grow louder, the confusion 
 is augmented, the rueda, fills up and a rush is made for the 
 seats. The soltadores bring two cocks to the ring for a 
 preliminary contest. One of the roosters is bianco 
 (white), the other rojo (red). They are already spurred, 
 but the gaffs are not yet unsheathed. Cries of "Az bianco! 
 at bianco!" are heard. Some one else shouts, "AZ rojo!" 
 The bianco is the favorite. 
 
 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 guingon with a red 
 fringe, a blue-spotted blouse shirt, and the cuartel cap — 
 you have here their disguise, in harmony with their deport- 
 ment ; watching and betting, making disturbance and talk- 
 ing of maintaining the peace. 
 
 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 cvxirto, or, if that is wanting, 
 pledging their word, promising to sell their carabao, 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 pesos, passes near 
 to the two brothers^ and looks toward the rueda, shouting: 
 
176 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "I am betting fifty, fifty against twenty on the white I" 
 
 The two brothers exchange looks. 
 
 "I told you," murmured the older, "not to bet all your 
 money. If you had obeyed me, we would have it now to 
 put on the red." 
 
 The younger one approached Lucas timidly and touched 
 him on the arm. 
 
 "Is it you?" exclaimed the latter turning around and 
 feigning surprise. "Does your brother accept my propo- 
 sition or did you come to bet?" 
 
 "How can we bet when we have lost all ?" 
 
 "Then you accept?" 
 
 "He does not want to ! If you could lend us something : 
 you have already said that you knew us. . . " 
 
 Lucas scratched his head, pulled down his camisa and 
 replied : 
 
 '*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." 
 
 "You need not meddle in our history," interrupted Tar- 
 silo, the older. "That is a disgrace. If we did not have 
 a sister, we would have been hanged long ago." 
 
 "Hanged? They only hang cowards, or some one who 
 has no money or protection. Certainly the mountains are 
 near." 
 
 "A hundred against twenty on the bianco/' cried one 
 as he passed the group. 
 
 "Loan us four pesos. . . . three. . . . two," begged the 
 younger brother. "Presently I will return it to you 
 doubled. The fight is going to begin." 
 
 Lucas scratched his head again. 
 
 "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 cour- 
 ageous." 
 
 And, saying this, he went away from them, although 
 not far. 
 
 "Let us accept. What does it matter?" said Bruno to 
 his brother. "It amounts to the same thing whether you 
 
The Cock Fight. 177 
 
 are Hanged or shot down. We poor serve for nothing 
 else." 
 
 'TToTi are right, but think of onr sister." 
 
 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 soltadores and the skilled 
 gaff fitter, were alone in the middle of the rueda. At 
 a signal from the referee, the sheaths were removed from 
 the razor-like knives on the cocks' legs, and the fine blades 
 glistened in a menacing way. 
 
 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: "Hundred to ten on the bianco T 
 
 Tarsilo looked at him stupidly. Bruno elbowed his 
 brother, who responded with a grunt. 
 
 The soltadores 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 soltadores, were 
 horrible wax figures. The two roosters are brought close 
 together and allowed to pick at each other and thus be- 
 come 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. 
 
 The cocks advance slowly. Their little steps are heard 
 upon the hard floor. Nobody speaks; nobody breathes. 
 Llowering and raising their heads, as if measuring each 
 other with a look, the two roosters mutter sounds, per- 
 haps of threat or contempt. They have perceived the 
 shining blades. Danger animates them, and they turn to- 
 ward each other decided, but they stop at a short dis- 
 tance, 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 
 
178 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 bianco turns and, raising himself in the 
 air, flashes his death-dealing knife, but the rojo has al- 
 ready doubled up his legs, ducked his head and the hlanco 
 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 bianco 
 throws himself forward to give a last blow; he drives his 
 knife into the wing of the rojo and buries it among the 
 bones. But the bianco has been wounded in the breast, 
 and both, weak from loss of blood, and panting, fastened 
 together, remain immovable until the bianco falls, bleeds 
 through his neck, kicks violently and is in the agony of 
 death. The rojo, pinned by his wing, is held to the other's 
 side ; and little by little he doubles up his legs and slowly 
 closes his eyes. 
 
 Then the referee, in accordance with the regulations 
 prescribed by the Government, declares the rojo the win- 
 ner. 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 dejado 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. 
 
 '^Do you see?'' said Bruno, with indignation, to his 
 
The Cock Fight. 179 
 
 brother, "if you had taken my advice to-day, we would 
 have had one hundred pesos. On your account we are 
 without a cuarto." 
 
 Tarsilo did not reply, but, with wide-open eyes, 
 looked around him as if in search of some one. 
 
 "There he is talking with Pedro/' added Bruno. "He 
 is giving him money — what a lot of money!" 
 
 Tarsilo remained silent and thoughtful. With the arm 
 of his camisa, he wiped away the sweat which formed in 
 drops on his forehead. 
 
 "Brother," said Bruno, "I am decided, even if you are 
 not. The Idsah 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." 
 
 '^ait!" said Tarsilo to him, and looked him in the 
 eyes. Both were pale. "I am with you. You are right. 
 We will avenge our father." 
 
 He stopped, however, and again wiped away the per- 
 spiration. 
 
 "Why do you stop?" asked Bruno impatiently. 
 
 "Do you know what fight is the next one ? Is it worth 
 the trouble?" 
 
 "What! Haven't you heard? Captain Tiago's Idsak 
 against Captain Basilio's hulik. According to the run of 
 luck, the Idsdk ought to win." 
 
 "Ah! The Idsdk. I would bet .... but let us make 
 sure first." 
 
 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. 
 
 "Why, don'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?" 
 
 Tarsilo did not hear him, he kept on examining the 
 cock. The rattle of silver coins reached his ears. 
 
 "Let us see the hulilc now," said he, in a choking voice. 
 
180 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Bruno stamped the ground with his feet, grated his 
 teeth, but obeyed his brother. 
 
 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's legs, was pre- 
 paring a piece of red silk. He waxed it and rubbed it over 
 his knee a number of times. 
 
 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. 
 
 '^Are you ready ?^' he asked his brother, his voice 
 scarcely perceptible. 
 
 "I? Long ago. Without having to see them.'' 
 
 "It is our poor sister ^" 
 
 "Bah! Didn'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?" 
 
 "And if we are killed?" 
 
 ^^hat does it matter? Our father died from being 
 whipped to death." 
 
 "You are right." 
 
 Both brothers sought Lucas in the crowd. 
 
 As soon as they caught sight of him, Tarsilo stopped. 
 
 "No! Let us go away from here! We are going to 
 lose," he exclaimed. 
 
 "Go if you wish. I am going to accept." 
 
 "Bruno!" 
 
 Unfortunately, a man approached them and said: 
 
 "Are you betting? I am backing the huUhf* 
 
 The two brothers did not reply. 
 
 "I'll give you odds." 
 
 "How much?" askdd Bruno. 
 
 The man counted out four peso pieces. Bruno looked 
 at him, breathless. 
 
 "I have two hundred. Fifty to forty." 
 
 "N"o," said Bruno promptly. "Make it . . /' 
 
 "All right ! fifty to thirty." 
 
 "Double it if you wish !" 
 
 "Well ! The lulilc is my winning color and I have just 
 won. Hundred against sixty!" 
 
 "That's a ^ : Wait till I go and get my money." 
 
The Cock Fight. 181 
 
 ''But I will be the stake-holder," said the other, in 
 whom the manner of Bruno inspired little confidence. 
 
 "It's all the same to me I" responded the latter, trusting 
 in the strength of his fists. 
 
 "And, turning to his brother, he said: 
 
 "Go away, if you wish ; I'm going to stay." 
 
 Then Tarsilo reflected. He loved his brother and the 
 game. He could not leave him alone, and he murmured. 
 "Let it be so !" 
 
 They approached Lucas. The latter saw them coming 
 and smiled. 
 
 "Eh ! there !" said TarsHo. 
 
 "What is it?'' 
 
 "How much do you give?" asked the two brothers. 
 
 "I have already told you. If you want to find some 
 others to help us surprise the ctmrtel, I will give you 
 thirty pesos apiece, and ten pesos for each companion you 
 get. If all comes out well, each will receive one hundred 
 pesos and you two, double that amount. Don Crisostomo 
 is rich." 
 
 "Accepted," exclaimed Bruno. "Hand over the money." 
 
 "I knew well that you were brave, like your father. 
 Come ! Don't let them hear us or they will kill us," said 
 Lucas, pointing to the Civil Guards. 
 
 And taking them into a comer, he told them, as he 
 counted out the money to them: 
 
 "To-morrow Don Crisostomo will arrive and bring arms. 
 Day after to-morrow, about eight o'clock at night, come 
 to the cemetery. I will tell you about the final arrange- 
 ments. You have time to find some other companions." 
 
 They took leave of each other. Now the two brothers 
 seemed to have changed their roles. Tarsilo was calm; 
 Bruno, pale. 
 
182 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE TWO SENORAS. 
 
 While Captain Tiago was fighting his Idsah against the 
 hulih. Dona Victorina took a walk through the town, with 
 the intention of seeing the condition of the indolent na- 
 tives, 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. 
 
 "What ugly houses these natives have," began Dona 
 Victorina, making a grimace. "I don't know how they 
 can live there: one must be a native to do it. They meet 
 us and don't uncover their heads ! Hit them over the head 
 as the curates and tenientes of the Guardia Civil do when 
 they don't take off their hats. Teach them manners.'^ 
 
 "And if they hit me ?" asked Dr. de Espadana. 
 
 "Aren't you a man ?" 
 
 "Bu — ^bu — but, I am la — ^la — ^lame." 
 
 Dona 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's coach* 
 man, who was driving her and her cousin in an elegant 
 carriage, had the impudence to call out tahi* to them in 
 such a warning voice that she had to get out of the way, 
 and was only able to exclaim, "Look at that brute of a 
 coachman ! I am going to tell his master that he should 
 educate his servants better !" 
 
 * Warning cry of a coachman, meaning "turn." 
 
The Two Senoras. 183 
 
 "Let us go back to the house/' she ordered her husband. 
 
 He, fearing that there was going to be a storm, turned 
 on his heels and obeyed the command. 
 
 They met the alferez on the way back and greeted him. 
 He increased the discontent of Dona Victorina, for he not 
 only failed to compliment her on her dress, but surveyed 
 it almost with a mocking manner. 
 
 "You ought not to extend your har d to a simple alferez/' 
 said she to her husband as soon as they were some distance 
 away. "He scarcely touches his helmet, and you take off 
 your hat. You don't know how to maintain your rank." 
 
 "He is ch — ch — chief here !" 
 
 "And what does that matter to us ? Are we, perchance, 
 natives ?" 
 
 "You are right,'' replied he, not wishing to quarrel. 
 
 They passed by the officer's house. Dona 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 Dona Victorina 
 could distinguish her very well. The Muse of the Guardia 
 Civil examined her with tranquillity from head to ^oot, 
 and, afterward, sticking out her lower lip, spit, turning 
 her face to the other side. That put an end to Dona Vic- 
 torina's patience, and, leaving her husband without any 
 support, she squared herself in front of the aljereza, trem- 
 bling with rage, and unable to speak. Dona Consolacion 
 turned her head slowly, looked her over again, and then 
 spit again, but with still greater disdain. 
 
 *^hat is the matter with you. Dona ?" said the alfereza. 
 
 "Can you tell me, Senora, why you look at me so ? Are 
 you envious ?" Dona Victorina finally succeeded in saying. 
 
 "I envious of you?" said the Medusa with scorn. "0, 
 yes ! I envy those curls." 
 
 "Come, wife !" said the doctor. "Do — don't take no — 
 no — ^notice of her !" 
 
 "Let me give this shameless common person a lesson!" 
 replied the woman, giving her husband a push. He nearly 
 fell to the ground. Turning to Dona Consolacion, she 
 continued : 
 
 'T(Ook how you treat me ! Don't think that I am a pro_- 
 vincial, or a soldiers' querida! In my house in Manila 
 
184 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 alferezas never are allowed to come in. They wait at the 
 door." 
 
 "Oh-oh ! Most Excellent Seiiora ! Alferezas don^t enter, 
 but invalids like that out there. Ha, ha, ha V 
 
 If it hadn't been for all the paint on her face, one could 
 have seen Dona 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. 
 
 "Listen! I lower myself talking with you. People of 
 categoria .... Do you want my clothes to wash ? I will 
 pay you well. Do you think that I don't know that you 
 are a washerwoman?" 
 
 Dona Consolacion became furious. The reference to her 
 being a washerwoman wounded her. 
 
 "Do you think that we do not know what you are? Get 
 out ! My husband has already told me. Senora, I, at least, 
 have not belonged to more than one man, but you? One 
 must be pretty hard up to take the leavings." 
 
 This shot struck Dona Victorina square in the breast. 
 She rolled up her sleeves, clenched her fists, and, gnashing 
 her teeth, began : 
 
 ^^Come down here, you nasty old thing, that I may 
 smash your filthy mouth." 
 
 The Medusa disappeared quickly from the window, but 
 was soon seen coming down the stairs on a run, swinging 
 her husband's whip. 
 
 Don Tiburcio interposed, pleading with them, but they 
 would have come to blows if the alferez had not arrived. 
 
 "But, senoras! .... Don Tiburcio!" 
 
 "Teach your woman better; buy her better clothes. If 
 you haven't the money, rob the people. You have youi; 
 soldiers for that!" shouted Dona Victorina. 
 
 "Senora," said the alferez furiously. "Thank yourself 
 that I don't forget that you are a woman ; for if you were 
 not, I would kick you to pieces, with all your curls and 
 ribbons." 
 
 "Se — se — senor al — alferez!** said Don Tiburcio. 
 
 "Go ahead! Kill us! You don't wear big enough 
 trousers, you quack." 
 
 And so the battle waged: words, gestures, cries, insults, 
 and injuries. uThey brought out all the nasty things they 
 
The Two Senoras. 185 
 
 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 cu- 
 rate came along and pacified them. 
 
 "Senoras! senoras! What a shame. Senor alferez/* 
 
 "What are you meddling in these matters for, you hypo- 
 crite, you Carlist?" 
 
 "Don Tiburcio, take away your wife ! Senora, hold your, 
 tongue V 
 
 "Tell that to those robbers of the poor !" 
 
 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 Salvi kept going from one side to the 
 other, adding life to the scene. 
 
 "This very day we will go to Manila and we will present 
 ourselves to the Governor General," said Dona Victorina, 
 in fury to her husband. "You are not a man. It is a 
 shame that you spend money for trousers." 
 
 "B — ^b — ^but, wife, and the Ouardia Civil? I — 1 — am 
 lame." 
 
 "You must challenge him to a duel with pistol or sword 
 or, or " 
 
 And Dona Victorina looked at his false teeth. 
 
 '^Daughter, I never have used " 
 
 Dona Victorina did not let him finish. With iSl 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 noth- 
 ing 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's new physiogomy. 
 
 "Cousin," said Doiia Victorina, "you have got/to chal- 
 lenge the alferez immediately to a duel, or " ^ 
 
186 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 *'^And why? what for?" asked Linares, surprised. 
 
 "You challenge him right off, or I will tell them all 
 who you are/' 
 
 "But, Dona Vietorina ?' 
 
 The three young women looked at one another. 
 
 "The alferez has insulted us. The old witch came down 
 \vith her whip, and that thing there allowed it all. A 
 man V 
 
 "Pshaw P said Sinang. "They have been fighting and 
 we haven't seen it.'' 
 
 "The alferez has broken the doctor's teeth," added Vic- 
 toria. 
 
 "This very day we are going to Manila. You stay here 
 to challenge him to a duel, and, if you don't, I'll tell Don 
 Santiago that all that you have told him is a lie. I will 
 tell him '' 
 
 "But, Dona Vietorina! Dona Vietorina!" interrupted 
 Jjinares, pale and going closer to lier. "Ton keep quiet. 
 
 Don't make me call to mind" and he added in a low 
 
 voice— "Don't be imprudent, especially just now." 
 
 Just at that time, when this was going on. Captain 
 Tiago arrived home from the cock-pit. He was down- 
 hearted. He had lost his Idsalc. 
 
 But Doiia Vietorina 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. 
 
 "Linares is going to challenge him. Do you hear? If 
 he don't, I won't let him marry your daughter. Don't you 
 permit it. If he has no courage, he does not merit Clarita." 
 
 "Then you are going to marry this gentleman?" asked 
 Sinang, with her jolly eyes full of tears. "I knew that 
 you were discreet, but I did not think you so fickle." 
 
 Maria Clara, pale as wax, raising herself half up, looked 
 at her father with frightened eyes, and then at Dona Vie- 
 torina and Linares. The latter turned red in the face. 
 Captain Tiago looked down, and the seiiora added: 
 
 "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." 
 
The Two Senoras. 187 
 
 But the young maiden did not reply and said to her 
 friends : 
 
 "Take me to my room, for I cannot go alone." 
 
 They helped her to her feet, and, leaning her marble- 
 like head on pretty Sinang's shoulder, and, with the arms 
 of her friend around her waist, she went to her bedroom. 
 
 That night the doctor and his wife collected their things 
 together, submitted their account to Captain Tiago — ^which 
 amounted to several thousand pesos — and very early on 
 the following day, left for Manila in the Captain's 
 carriage. To timid Linares they intrusted the role of 
 the avenger. 
 
188 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE ENIGMA. 
 
 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 mar- 
 riage of her niece with Linares. Captain Tiago was not 
 at home. 
 
 "Come in,^' said the aunt in her half-Castellano language. 
 "Maria, Don Crisostomo is again in the grace of God. The 
 Archbishop has dis-excommunicated him." 
 
 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, interweav- 
 ing nosegays with the flowers and leaves on the climbing 
 plants. On the floor, were scattered roses and sampagas. 
 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. 
 
 At the presence of Ibarra, Linares turned pale and Maria 
 Clara^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. 
 
 An embarrassing silence reigned for several seconds. 
 Finally, Ibarra was able to advance, and tremblingly mur- 
 mured : 
 
 "I have just arrived and have hastened to see you . . I 
 find that you are better than I thought." 
 
 Maria Clara seemed to have turned dumb. She could 
 
The Enigma. 189 
 
 not pronoiince a single word, and continued to keep her 
 eyes on the floor. 
 
 Ibarra surveyed Linares with a look which the modest 
 young man bore with considerable haughtiness. 
 
 "Well, I see that my arrival was not expected," he said 
 slowly. "Maria, pardon me for not having announced 
 my coming. Some other day I will be able to explain to 
 you my conduct.^' 
 
 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. 
 
 "May I come to-morrow ?" 
 
 "You know that on my part you are always welcome," 
 replied she, scarcely able to pronounce the words. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 "Oh, woman !" he murmured. 
 
 He arrived, without noticing it, at the place where the 
 school house was being constructed. The work was well 
 along. Ror Juan, with his yard stick and plumb-line, was 
 going to and fro among the numerous workmen. On see- 
 ing the young man approach, he ran to meet him. 
 
 "Don Crisostomo," said he, "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?" 
 
 The workmen saluted him respectfully. 
 
 "Here is the system of drainage which I have taken the 
 liberty to add," said ^or Juan. "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 ?" 
 
 "Quite on the contrary, I approve of it and I congratu- 
 late you on your idea. You are a true architect. From 
 whom did you leam the profession ?" 
 
 "From myself, senor," replied the modest old man. 
 
190 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "0, 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/' 
 
 "Pshaw! senor! We don't take any notice of excom- 
 munications. We are all excommunicated. Dather Da- 
 maso is himself ; however, he goes on, as fat as ever." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "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, senor ?" 
 
 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. 
 
 "Nor Juan," said Ibarra, "will you bring me a list of 
 the workmen ?" 
 
 Nor Juan disappeared and Ibarra approached Elias, 
 who was alone, raising a large stone and loading it in a 
 cart. 
 
 "If you are able, senor, to grant me some hours of con- 
 versation, come this afternoon to the shore of the lake and 
 embark in my hanca, for I want to talk with you about 
 some serious matters," said Elias. Ibarra gave a nod of 
 assent and went away. 
 
 :^or Juan brought the list, but Ibarra read it in vain. 
 The name of Elias was not on it. 
 
The Voice of the Persecuted. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE PERSECUTED. 
 
 Before the sun went down, Ibarra put his foot into 
 Elias's hanca on the shore of the lake. He seemed dis- 
 pleased about something, as though he had been opposed 
 or contradicted. 
 
 "Pardon me, senor," said Elias on seeing him. "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.^' 
 
 "You are mistaken, friend Elias," replied Ibarra, trying 
 to smile. "You will have to take me to that town over 
 there, where you see that belfry. Fate obliges me to go 
 there." 
 
 "Fate?" 
 
 "Yes; on my way here, I met the alferez. 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 after- 
 noon." 
 
 "I am obliged to you for your thoughtfulness, but you 
 might have simply told him to accompany you,^' replied 
 Elias with naturalness. 
 
 "How's that ? And what about you ?" 
 
 "He would never have recognized me. The only time 
 that he ever saw me, I don't believe that he thought to take 
 down a description of me." 
 
 "I am in hard luck !" sighed Ibarra, thinking of Maria 
 Clara. '*What have you to say to me ?" 
 
 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 
 
192 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 falling over the earth, and the disk of the full moon was 
 already shining. 
 
 ^^Senor/' replied Elias, in a grave voice, "I am the 
 spokesman of many unfortunate people/^ 
 
 "Unfortunate people. What do you mean?" 
 
 In a few words, Elias referred to the conversation whicK 
 he had had with the chief of the tulisanes, but omitted say- 
 ing 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. 
 
 "So that they desire ^ 
 
 "Kadical 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 Govern- 
 ment.'^ 
 
 "Eef orms ? In what sense ?" 
 
 "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.'' 
 
 "Elias," replied the young man, "I don'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 paying them. 
 I could speak to the Governor General, but all of that would 
 accomplish nothing. He has not enough power to intro- 
 duce reforms, nor would I ever take a step in that direc- 
 tion, for I know very well that, if it is true that these re- 
 ligious corporations have their defects, they are now neces- 
 sities. They are what you might call a necessary evil." 
 
 Elias raised his head and looked astonished. 
 
 "Do you believe, senor, in necessary evils?" he asked, 
 his voice slightly trembling. "Do you believe that in order 
 to do good it is necessary to do evil ?" 
 
 "!N"o. 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 
 
The Voice of the Persecuted. 193 
 
 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/' 
 
 "He is a bad doctor, senor, who seeks to cure the symp- 
 toms and suppress them without trying to find the origin 
 of the illness, or knowing it, fears to attack it. The 
 Guardia Civil 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 in- 
 dividuals 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 be- 
 cause indulgence is necessary, but because the individual, 
 neglected and abandoned by Government, has less self re- 
 sponsibility than if he had been enlightened. Besides, fol- 
 lowing out your comparison, the medicine applied to the 
 evils of the country is so much of a destroyer that its ef- 
 fect 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 mini- 
 mize a little the violence of the medicine ?" 
 
 ''To weaken the Guardia Civil would be to put the se- 
 curity of the towns in danger." 
 
 "The security of the towns !" exclaimed Elias with bit- 
 terness. "The towns have had the Guardia Civil for nearly 
 fifteen years and what is the result? We still have tuli- 
 sanes, we still hear of them sacking towns, and they still 
 make their attacks on people on the roads. Eobberies con- 
 tinue 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, — ^the first symptom of incapacity in gov- 
 ernment. The heads of the organization consider it their 
 
194 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 sacred- 
 ness of the fireside. There is no security for the in- 
 dividual. What have the people accomplished by overcom- 
 ing their wrath and by waiting for justice at the hands of 
 others? Ah! senor, if you call that preserving the 
 order " 
 
 ^'1 agree with you that there are evils,'' replied Ibarra. 
 '^But we have to accept those evils for the good which ac- 
 companies them. This institution may be imperfect, but 
 believe me, by the terror which it inspires, it prevents the 
 number of criminals from increasing.'' 
 
 "You might better say that by that terror it increases 
 the number of criminals," said Elias, correcting him. "Be- 
 fore 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 cuaderilleros chase them, with 
 their imperfect arms — that body of men so often calum- 
 niated 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, j^ow 
 there are tulisanes who will be tulisanes 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 — these make them forever 
 members of that society who are bound by oath to kill and 
 die*. The terrorism of the Guardia Civil impressed upon 
 them closes forever the doors to repentance. And as a 
 tulisan fights and defends himself in the mountains better 
 tkan a soldier, whom he scorns, the result is that we are 
 incapable of abating the evil which we have created. Call 
 t# 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 
 
 * Author here shows difficulty in establishing American sov- 
 ereignty over islands by military forces, 
 
The Voice of the Persecuted. 195 
 
 men still beat, and only await pardon. Terrorism is use- 
 ful 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 '^ 
 
 "It confuses me, Elias, to hear you talk so. I would 
 believe that you were right if I did not have my own con- 
 victions. But note this point — and do not be ojSended, for 
 I do not include you — I look upon you as an exception — 
 consider who those are who ask for this reform. Almost 
 all are criminals or people who are in the way of becom- 
 ing such.^' 
 
 "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, senor, 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 Guardia Civil 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 ?'' 
 
 "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.^' 
 
 "I do not doubt it. Perhaps there it is better organ- 
 ized ; 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, senor, 
 why have not other nations adopted this institution, other 
 nations which resemble Spain more than do the Philip- 
 pines? Is it due to the efforts of such an institution that 
 other nations have fewer robberies of the railways, fewer 
 
196 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 riots, fewer assassinations, and less hand-to-hand fighting 
 in their great capitals ?" 
 
 Ibarra bowed his head in meditation. Afterward he 
 raised it and replied : 
 
 "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, be- 
 lieve me, the Government needs a body like the Guardia 
 Civil, which has unlimited power, in order to make the 
 people respect its authority and the laws imposed." 
 
 "That would be all right, senor, if the Government were 
 at war with the country ; but, for the good of the Govern- 
 ment, 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 — 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." 
 
 Elias was speaking with enthusiasm and with fervor. 
 His eyes glistened and his voice vibrated. Then followed 
 a solemn pause. The hanca, 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. 
 
 "And what more do they ask ?" said Ibarra. 
 
 "Keforms in the priesthood," responded Elias, in a dis- 
 couraged and sad tone of voice. "The unfortunates ask 
 more protection against " 
 
 "Against the religious orders ?" 
 
 "Against their oppressors, senor.^' 
 
 "Have the Filipinos forgotten what they owe to these 
 orders? Have they forgotten the immense debt of grati- 
 tude 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 
 
The Voice of the Persecuted. 197 
 
 evils which result from not teaching the history of the 
 country in our schools/' 
 
 Elias, surprised, could scarcely give credit to what he 
 heard. 
 
 "Senor," he replied in a grave voice. "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 detroyed 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 prov- 
 inces, 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 
 
198 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 degener- 
 ate 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 circum- 
 stances and new needs require." 
 
 "I love our country as you love it, Elias. I understand 
 to some extent what you desire. I have heard with atten- 
 tion what you have said ; yet, despite all of that, my friend, 
 I believe we are looking upon it with a little prejudice. 
 Here, less tnan in other thmgs, I see the necessity of re- 
 forms." 
 
 "Can it be possible, senor," said Elias, discouraged and 
 stretching out his hands. "Do you not see the necessity 
 of reforms, you whose family " 
 
 "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," interrupted Ibarra eagerly. "To 
 preserve the Philippines it is necessary that the friars con- 
 tinue as they are, and in union with Spain lies the wel- 
 fare of our country." 
 
 Ibarra had ceased speaking, but Elias continued to lis- 
 ten. His face was sad, his eyes had lost their brilliancy. 
 
 "The missionaries conquered the country, it is true," 
 he«aid. "Do you think that Spain will be able to keep the 
 Philippines through the instrumentality of the friars ?" 
 
 "Yes, only through the friars. This is the belief held 
 by all who have written on the Philippines." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Elias, discouraged and throwing his 
 paddle ino the bottom of the hanca. "I did not think that 
 you had so poor a conception of the Government and of the 
 country." 
 
 Ibarra replied : "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 
 
The Voice of the Persecuted. 199 
 
 islands. I love it too, because I owe it my happiness and 
 will continue to do so/' 
 
 "And I, I love it because I owe to it my misfortunes/' 
 said Elias. 
 
 'TTes, 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 rea- 
 son, I make allowance for your complaints. If I were able 
 to appreciate the motives, if I had known part of that 
 past '' 
 
 "My misfortunes have another source. If I had known 
 that they would have been of usefulness, I would have re- 
 lated them, for aside from that, I make no secret of them. 
 They are well enough known by many.'' 
 
 "Perhaps knowing them would rectify my opinions. You 
 know I do not rely much upon theories; facts are better 
 guides." 
 
 Elias reinained pensive for some moments. 
 
 "If that is the case, senor," he replied, 'T! will relate 
 briefly the history of my misfortunes." 
 
200 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 ELIAS'S FAMILY. 
 
 ''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 sat- 
 isfied 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 hus- 
 band 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.^' 
 
 Ibarra started from his seat. 
 
 *'0h! 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 
 
Elias' Family. 201 
 
 forth a still-bom 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 des- 
 perate at seeing her ill and deprived of all aid and com- 
 fort, 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 hav- 
 ing 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. How- 
 ever, 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. Bead what 
 Father Gaspar de San Augustin says. 
 
 "Thus condemned, the woman cursed the day when 
 she would give birth to the child, and this not only pro- 
 longed her punishment, but violated her maternal senti- 
 ments. The woman delivered the child, and unfortu- 
 nately 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 tulisan as soon as Ke had 
 sufficient strength. Before long the bloody name of 
 Bdlat extended from province to province ; it was the ter- 
 ror of the towns and the people, for he took his revenge 
 with fire and blood. The younger boy, who had received 
 fjom Nature a good heart, resigned himself to his lot at 
 his mother'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 
 
202 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 known only by such titles as the 'criminal/ the 'prosti- 
 tute/ and the 'horse-whipped woman.' The younger 
 brother was known only as the son of his mother, be- 
 cause he had such a pleasant disposition that they did 
 not believe him to be the son of the incendiary. Finally 
 the famous Balat fell one day into the hands of Justice. 
 Society had taught him no good, but he was asked to ac- 
 count for his crimes. One morning as the younger boy 
 was looking for his mother, who had gone to gather mush- 
 rooms 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." 
 
 "My God!'' exclaimed Ibarra. 
 
 "That is what my father must have exclaimed/' con- 
 tinued Elias, coldly. "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 Tomas you 
 will still find the rotting leg of my uncle hanging from 
 a lomhoy 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's cabin." 
 
 Ibarra bowed his head. 
 
 "The young man fled like one that is accursed/' con- 
 tinued Elias. "He fled from town to town, through moun- 
 tains 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 
 
Elias' Family. 203 
 
 his quite iiTiin cumbered 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 leam of his past. But love be- 
 came 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's father was rich and began to prose- 
 cute 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 grand- 
 father 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 sis- 
 ter, 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 serv- 
 ants ; 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 pe- 
 cuniary 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 satisfac- 
 tion. 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 weep- 
 ing 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 
 bad stuck fast to his dear children and whom I had mal- 
 
204 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 treated many times. Our happiness disappeared: I re- 
 nounced 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. 
 
 "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 pre- 
 sented 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." 
 
 Eli as became silent and continued rowing. 
 
 "I believe that you are not wrong," murmured Ibarra, 
 in a low voice, 'Vhen you say that justice ought to pro- 
 cure the welfare of the people by lifting up the criminals 
 and by raising the standard of their morality. Only 
 . . . that is impossible — a Utopia. And then, where 
 is the money for so many new employees to come from ?" 
 
 "And what are the priests for, the priests who pro- 
 claim peace and charity as their mission? Is it more 
 meritorious for a priest to wet the head of a child, to give 
 
Elias' Family. 205 
 
 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 Guardias Civiles paid? The 
 latter institution, besides being an evil, also costs money." 
 
 "My friend, neither you nor I, although we wish it, 
 can accomplish it." 
 
 "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 patriaT 
 
 "What the people ask for is impossible. We must 
 wait." 
 
 "To wait, to wait, is equivalent to suffering 1" 
 
 "If I should ask it, they would laugh at me." 
 
 "And if the people should sustain you?" 
 
 "Never! I would never be the one to lead the multi- 
 tude and accomplish by force what the Government does 
 not believe is opportune. No! If I ever saw the multi- 
 tude 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, educa- 
 tion and progress. Without light there is no road." 
 
 "Nor without fighting is there liberty," replied Elias. 
 
 "I do not care for that kind of liberty." 
 
 "Without liberty there is no light," replied the pilot 
 with enthusiasm. "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 hori- 
 zon. 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." 
 
 Elias was transformed. As he stood up, his head un- 
 covered, his manly face illumined by the moonlight, there 
 was something extraordinary about him. He shook his 
 long hair and continued ; 
 
206 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ^'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 sepa- 
 rated, 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." 
 
 A solemn silence followed these words. In the mean- 
 time, the hanca carried along imperceptibly by the waves, 
 neared the shore. Elias was the first to break the silence. 
 
 "What have I to say to those who have sent me?'^ he 
 asked, changing the tone of his voice. 
 
 "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." 
 
 Elias did not insist further. He bowed his head, con- 
 tinued rowing and, bringing the hanca up to the shore, 
 took leave of Ibarra saying: 
 
 "I thank you, Senor, 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." 
 
 And saying this, he turned his hanca 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. 
 
 Finally, he arrived at the place toward which he had 
 been rowing. A man came out of the thicket and ap- 
 proached him: 
 
 "What shall I tell the captain?" he asked. 
 
 "Tell him that Elias, if he does not die before, will ful- 
 fill his word," he replied gloomily. 
 
 "Then when will you meet us?" 
 
 "When your captain thinks that the hour of danger has 
 come/* 
 
 "All right. Good-bye !" 
 
 "If I do not die before," murmured Ellas, 
 
Changes. 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIL 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 The modest Linares was serious and very uneasy. He 
 had just received a letter from Dona Victorina which, 
 translated from the most illiterate Spanish, and omitting 
 its many errors in spelling and punctuation, was as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "Esteemed Cousin : — Within three days I want to know 
 from you if you have killed the alferez or he you. I don't 
 want another day to pass without this animal being pun- 
 ished. 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 cuarto. If you challenge 
 him, I promise you all that you wish. If you do not chal- 
 lenge him, I will accept no excuses or reasons. 
 
 "Your cousin who loves you in her heart. 
 
 "Victorina de los Reyes de db EspadaS^a. 
 
 "Sampalog, Monday Eve, 7 o'clock.^' 
 
 It was a serious matter. Linares knew Dona Victorina's 
 character and knew what she was capable of doing. To 
 reason with her was out of the question; to beg was use- 
 less; to deceive her worse. There was no other remedy 
 than to challenge. 
 
 "But what can I do ?'' he said to himself, as he was walk- 
 ing alone. "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 senorita say about me ? Now 
 I am sorry to have been secretary to all the ministers/^ 
 
208 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 The good Linares was in this sad soliloquy when Father 
 Salvi 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. 
 
 "Senor Linares, all alone?" saluted the priest and di- 
 rected his steps to the sala, through the half open door of 
 which notes of the piano were heard. 
 
 Linares restrained a smile. 
 
 "And Don Santiago ?" added the curate. 
 
 Captain Tiago presented himself at that moment, kissed 
 the curate's hand, took the Father's hat and cane and 
 smiled like one who had been blessed. 
 
 "Well, well!" said the curate, going into the sala, fol- 
 lowed by Linares and Captain Tiago. "I have good news 
 from Manila which you will all enjoy. I have received 
 letters from Manila which confirm the one which Senor 
 Ibarra brought me yesterday — so that, Don Santiago, the 
 impediment is removed." 
 
 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. 
 
 "This young man really seems to me a very nice fellow," 
 continued the curate. "At first, I judged him bad — 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 Damaso . . ." 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 — in spite of the concealed pinches 
 which Sinang gave her to express her joy. Had she been 
 alone, she would have danced. 
 
 "Father Damaso?" asked Linares without finishing the 
 sentence. 
 
 "Yes," continued the curate. "Father Damaso has said 
 that as . . . godfather he could not permit . . . but I believe 
 fhat if finally, Seiior Ibarra asks pardon, which I do not 
 doubt he will do, all will be arranged." 
 
 Maria Clara arose, made an excuse and retired to her 
 room, accompanied by Victoria» 
 
Changes. 209 
 
 "And if FatHer Damaso does not pardon him?" asked 
 Captain Tiago, in a low voice. 
 
 "Then Maria Clara will see that Father Damaso is her 
 spiritual father. But I believe that they will come to an 
 understanding." 
 
 At that moment, steps were heard and Ibarra appeared, 
 followed by Aunt Isabel. His presence on the scene pro- 
 duced a varied effect. He saluted Captain Tiago affably, 
 the latter not knowing whether to smile or to weep; to 
 Linares he bowed profoundly. Father Salvi arose and ex- 
 tended his hand to him so affectionately that Ibarra could 
 not suppress a look of surprise. 
 
 "Do not think it strange," said Father Salvi. "I was 
 just pa3ring you a compliment." 
 
 Ibarra thanked him and approached Sinang. 
 
 "Where have you been all day ?" she asked, with a child- 
 ish laugh, '^e have been asking each other, 'Where could 
 this soul redeemed from purgatory have gone ?' Each one 
 of us gave a different answer." 
 
 "And will you not tell what you said?" 
 
 "No, that is a secret ; but I will surely tell you in private. 
 Now tell us where you have been so titiat we can see who 
 has been able to guess it." 
 
 "No, that also is a secret; but I will tell you alone, if 
 the senores will permit." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly!" said Father Salvi. 
 
 Sinang took Crisostomo to one end of the hall. She was 
 very happy with the idea of knowing a secret. 
 
 "Tell me, my little friend," said Ibarra, "Is Maria 
 angry with me ?" 
 
 "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 Damaso also 
 wishes it; but she says neither yes nor no. This morning 
 when we were asking for you, I said : *What if he has gone 
 to make love to some one else ?' She replied to me ; 'Would 
 to God that he had !' and then began to cry." 
 
 Ibarra was serious. 
 
 "Tell Maria that I want to speak with her alone." 
 
 "Alone?" asked Sinang, knitting her eyebrows and look- 
 ing at him. 
 
210 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Entirely alone, no. But so that we may not be seen by 
 that other senor." 
 
 "It is difficult, but don't worry. I will tell her/' 
 
 "And when will I know the answer ?" 
 
 "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." 
 
 "That is true. I was in the town of Los Baiios. 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." 
 
 "Nothing more than that ? Give us the secret !" ex- 
 claimed Sinang in a loud voice and in the tone of a de- 
 frauded usurer. "I thought " 
 
 "Take care. I don't want you to tell it." 
 
 "I have no desire to !" replied Sinang, sticking up her 
 nose. "If it were something more important, I would tell 
 it to my friends. But to buy cocoanuts ! cocoanuts ! Who 
 is interested in cocoanuts ?" 
 
 And she went away in haste to find her girl friends. 
 
 A few moments afterward, Ibarra seeing that the con- 
 versation was lagging, took leave of the gathering. Cap- 
 tain Tiago's expression was between sweet and sour; 
 Linares was silent and observing; and the curate, feign- 
 ing to be joyful, was telling stories. None of the girls had 
 returned. 
 
Playing Cards with the Shades. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 PLXTING CARDS WITH THE SHADES. 
 
 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. 
 
 Under the gate, three forms are conversing in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Have you spoken to Elias ?" asked a voice. 
 
 "No; you know he is very odd and discreet. But he 
 ought to be with us. Don Crisostomo saved his life." 
 
 "I accepted the offer for the same reason," said the first 
 voice. "Don Crisostomo is having my wife treated at a 
 doctor'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." 
 
 "And we, we will have charge of the attack on the 
 cuartel, so that we can say to the members of the Guardia 
 Civil that our father had sons." 
 
 "How many will there be of you ?" 
 
 "Five ! Eive will be enough. Don Crisostomo's servant 
 says that there will be twenty in all." 
 
 "And if things don't turn out well?" 
 
 "St !" said one, and they all became silent. 
 
 In the semi-darkness, a form could be seen crawling 
 along the fence. From time to time it stopped, as if to 
 look behind. 
 
 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. 
 
 "They are following me," murmured the one ahead. 
 'Is it a Guardia Civil? Has the sacristan lied?" 
 
 "It appears that the appointment is here," said the sec- 
 
212: Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ond, in a low voice. "They are up to something bad, when 
 the two brothers hide it from me," 
 
 The first form finally arrived at the gate of the cemetery. 
 The three who were already there advanced. 
 
 "Is it you?" 
 
 "Is it you?" 
 
 "Let us separate. Some one is following me. To-mor- 
 row we will have the arms and to-morrow night will be our 
 time. The cry is 'Viva Don Crisostomo !' Begone !" 
 
 The three persons disappeared behind the wall. The 
 recent arrival hid himself in the hollow of the gate and 
 waited silently. 
 
 "Let's see who is following me V he murmured. 
 
 The second person came along very cautiously, and 
 stopped to look around. 
 
 "I have arrived late !" said he in a half intelligible voice. 
 ^^But perhaps they will return." 
 
 And, as a fine rain began to fall and threatened to con- 
 tinue, he took refuge under the gate. Naturally, he met 
 the other. 
 
 "Ah ! who are you ?" asked the one who had just come 
 up, in a manly voice. 
 
 "And who are you?" replied the other tranquilly. 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Each tried to recognize 
 the other by the tone of his voice and to distinguish the 
 other's features. 
 
 "What are you waiting here for?" asked the one with 
 the heavy voice. 
 
 "Till the clock strikes eight, so as to have a game of 
 cards with the dead. I want to win some money to-night," 
 replied the other, in an ordinary tone. "And you : what do 
 you come here for?'^ 
 
 "A — a — for the same thing." 
 
 "Well ! I am glad. So I will not be without a com- 
 panion. I have brought some cards. At the first stroke 
 of the bell, I put down the alhur (the first two cards put 
 on the board in monte). At the second stroke, I put down 
 the gallo (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 ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
Playing Cards with the Shades. 213 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 "It is simple. Just as you act as T)anker' for them, so 
 I hope that they will "bank' for me." (In monte the bank- 
 er deals the cards and bets that one of the cards in either 
 the albur or gallo is turned up by dealing off the pack, be- 
 fore the card chosen by the other person is turned up. A 
 banker can play against two others.) 
 
 "And if the shades do not care to ^ank' ?" 
 
 "What can be done? The game is not obligatory upon 
 the dead.'' 
 
 There was a moment's silence. 
 
 "Did you come armed ? What if you have to fight with 
 the shades of the dead ?" 
 
 "I'll use my fists," replied the taller of the two. 
 
 "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." 
 
 "Is that true ? Well, I don't want to go away." 
 
 "Nor I. I need some money," replied the smaller one. 
 "But let us do this: We will decide by the cards which 
 one shall go away." 
 
 "All right !" replied the other, showing a certain amount 
 of displeasure. 
 
 "Then let us go in. Have you any matches?" 
 
 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 play- 
 ing cards and the other lighted a match. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Cut the cards !" said the latter, without ceasing to look 
 at the other. 
 
 He pushed aside some bones which were found on the 
 niche and turned up an ace and a jack for the altur, Elias 
 lighted one match after another. 
 
 "On the jack !" said he and, in order to show which of 
 
214 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 the cards he was betting on, he placed upon it a piece of 
 vertebrae. 
 
 "I deal V said Lucas and, after turning up four or five 
 cards, an ace came up. 
 
 "You have lost," he added. "Now leave me alone so 
 that I may win some money." 
 
 Elias, without saying a word, disappeared in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 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 Brother- 
 hood of the Most Sacred Rosary would have done at that 
 moment. 
 
 The drizzling rain continued all night. At nine o'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 dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Two Civil Guards were walking from one side of the 
 street to the other near the church. 
 
 "It is cold," said one in Tagalog with a Visayan accent. 
 "We aren't catching any sacristans. There is nobody to 
 clean out the alferez's 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." 
 
 "So am I," replied the other. "Nobody commits any 
 robbery; no one disturbs the peace; but, thank God, they 
 say that Elias is in town. The alferez says that the one 
 who catches him will be free from whippings for three 
 months." 
 
 "Ah! Do you know his identification marks?" asked 
 the Visayan. 
 
 "I certainly do ! Stature, tall, according to the alferez* s 
 description; ordinary, according to the description of 
 Father Ddmaso ; color, brunette ; eyes, black ; nose, regular ; 
 mouth, regular; beard, none; hair, black." 
 
 "Ah ! And particular marks ?" 
 
Playing Cards with the Shades. 215 
 
 'Camisa, black; pantaloons, black; a wood-cutter- 
 
 "Ah ! He will not escape. I think I see him already/' 
 
 "I don't confuse him with anybody else, although you 
 might think so." 
 
 Both soldiers continued their beats. 
 
 By the light of the lantern two forms could again be 
 seen, one following the other cautiously. A forcible 
 *'Quien vivef" stops them both. The first one replied 
 "Espana/' in a trembling voice. 
 
 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. 
 
 **The alferez said nothing about his having a scar,'' said 
 the Visayan in a low voice, '^here are you going ?" 
 
 "To order a mass for to-morrow.'' 
 
 "Have you not seen Elias ?" 
 
 "I do not know him, senor," replied Lucas. 
 
 "You dunce ! I am not asking if you know him. Nor 
 do we know him. I am asking you if you have seen him." 
 
 "No, senor." 
 
 "Listen closely. I will give you his description. Stature, 
 at times tall, at times regular; skin and eyes, black; all 
 the others are regular," said the Visayan. *T)o you know 
 him now?" 
 
 "No, senor," replied Lucas, frightened. 
 
 "Then, sulung! (Go along). You brute! You ass!" 
 And they gave him a shove. 
 
 "Do you know why Elias is tall, according to the alferez, 
 and why he is short, according to the curate?" asked the 
 Tagalo of the other. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Because the alferez was stuck m a mud hole when he 
 observed him, and the curate was on foot when he saw 
 him." 
 
 "That's right!" exclaimed the Visayan. 'TTou are 
 bright. Why are you a Guardia Civil f 
 
 "I haven't been always. I was a smuggler at one time," 
 replied the Tagalo g boastingly. 
 
 But another form attracted their attention. They called 
 out ''Quien Vive f and brought him up to the light. This 
 time it was Elias himself. 
 
216 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ''Where are you going?'' 
 
 "I am pursuing, senor, a man who has whipped and 
 threatened my brother. He has a scar on his face and 
 his name is Elias " 
 
 "Ha?" exclaimed the two, and looked at each other 
 frightened. 
 
 And at once they started on a run toward the church, 
 where a few minutes before Lucas had disappeared. 
 
The Discovery. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 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 carabao's back, suspends the song to which the ani- 
 mal 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 An- 
 gelus 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 Ave Maria is dissipated, silenced. 
 
 However, the curate, without his hat, hastily crosses the 
 street, scandalizing many old women. And still more 
 scandalous, he directs his steps towards the alferez's 
 house. The devout women think that it is time for them 
 te stop the movement of their lips and to kiss the curate's 
 hand, but Father Salvi takes no notice of them. To-day 
 he finds no pleasure in placing his bony hand under a 
 Christian's nose. Some important business must be oc- 
 cupying him that he should so forget his own interests and 
 those of the Church ! 
 
 He goes up the stairs and knocks impatiently at the 
 alferez's door. The latter appears, his eyebrows knit and 
 followed by his better half, who smiles malignantly. 
 
 "Ah, Father Curate! I was just going to see you. 
 Your he-goat. . . ." 
 
 "I have a most important matter. . . ." 
 
 "I can't allow your goat to go on breaking down my 
 fence. . . I'll shoot him if he gets in there again." 
 
 "That is if you are alive to-morrow," said the curate, 
 breathless, and directing himself toward the sala. 
 
 "What ! do you think that that seven-months-old ptippy 
 will kill me? I'll kick him to pieces." 
 
218 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Father Salvi stepjoed back and looked instinctively at 
 the feet of the alferez. 
 
 "Whom are you talking about?" asked he, trembling. 
 
 "Of whom could I be talking but that big blockhead 
 who proposes to challenge me to a duel with revolvers at 
 one hundred paces ?'^ 
 
 "Ah!" sighed the curate, and added: "I have come to 
 speak about a most urgent matter which seriously con- 
 cerns the life of all of us." 
 
 "Seriously I" repeated the alferez, turning pale in turn. 
 "Does this 3'oung fellow shoot well. . ?" 
 
 "I am not speaking about him." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 The friar pointed to the door which the alferez shut in 
 his customary manner, by a kick. The alferez usually 
 found his hands superfluous. An imprecation and a groan 
 from without were heard. 
 
 "You brute. You have cut open my head!" cried his 
 wife. 
 
 "Now unbosom yourself," 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's 
 voice : 
 
 "Did you see how I came running?" 
 
 "Umph! I thought something was the matter with 
 you." 
 
 "When I leave my duties in this manner there are 
 grave motives." 
 
 "And what is it?" asked the other, stamping his foot 
 on the floor. ' 
 
 "Calm yourself !" 
 
 "Then, why did you come in such a hurry?" 
 
 The curate approached him and asked in a mysterious 
 way: 
 
 "Don't — ^you — know — anything — new ?" 
 
 The alferez shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "You confess that you know absolutely nothing?" 
 
 '^hat ! do you mean to tell me about Elias, whom your 
 sacristan mayor hid last night?" he asked. 
 
 "No, no! I don't speak of such matters now," replied 
 the curate, in a bad humor. "I am talking about a great 
 danger." 
 
The Discovery, 219 
 
 "Then d n it ! Let it out/' 
 
 "Now then/' said the friar slowly and with a certain 
 disdain, "you will see again how important we priests are. 
 The lowest layman is worth a regiment, so that a cur- 
 ate. . . ." 
 
 And then lowering his voice in a very mysterious man- 
 ner: 
 
 "I have discovered a great conspiracy." 
 
 The alferez started and looked at the friar astonished. 
 
 "A terrible and well-laid conspiracy, which is to break 
 out this very night.'' 
 
 "This very night!" exclaimed the alferez, moving at 
 first toward Father Salvi, and then running after his re- 
 volver and saber, which were hanging on the wall : "Whom 
 shall I arrest? Whom shall I arrest?" he cried. 
 
 "Be calm. It is not yet time, thanks to my great 
 haste. At eight o'clock." 
 
 "I'll shoot them all V 
 
 "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'clock they will take 
 the cuartel by surprise, sack the convent, seize the Gov- 
 ernment's steamboat and assassinate all the Spaniards.'* 
 
 The alferez was stupified. 
 
 "The woman has not told more than that," added the 
 curate. ' 
 
 "Has not told you more ? Then I'll arrest her !" 
 
 "No ; I cannot consent to it. The tribunal of penitence 
 is the throne of God of forgiveness." 
 
 "Neither God nor forgiveness count in this matter. I'll 
 arrest her." 
 
 "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." 
 
 "The boat is not here. I'll send to other sections for 
 aid." 
 
 "They would notice that and would not go on with their 
 plans. No, don'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 
 
220 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 of a priest, ought not to mix myself m these matters, 
 Now'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/' 
 
 "It will be made evident. Father, it will be made evi- 
 dent ! And perhaps a mitre will fall to you !" replied the 
 radiant alferez. 
 
 "Be sure and send me four un-uniformed Civil Guards, 
 eh? Be discreet! To-night at eight o'clock, it will rain 
 stars and crosses." 
 
 While this was going on, a man came running down 
 the road which led to Ibarra's house, and quickly went 
 up the stairs. 
 
 "Is the Senor at home?" asked Elias of the servant. 
 
 "He is in his laboratory at work." 
 
 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. 
 
 '^Ah, is it you, Elias?" he exclaimed. "I was thinking 
 about you. Yesterday, I forgot to ask you for the name 
 of that Spaniard in whose house your grandfather lived." 
 
 "Don't bother yourself, Senor, about me. . . " 
 
 "Look!" continued Ibarra, without noting the agita- 
 tion of the young man, and putting a piece of bamboo 
 to a flame. "I have made a great discovery. This bam- 
 boo is incombustible. . ." 
 
 "Don't talk about bamboo now, Senor. Talk about col- 
 lecting your papers and fleeing in a minute." 
 
 Ibarra looked at him surprised, and, on seeing the seri- 
 ousness in Elias's countenance, he dropped the object 
 which he had in his hands. 
 
 "Burn everything that can possibly implicate you in 
 any way and put yourself in a more secure place within 
 an hour." 
 
 "And what for?" he asked at last. 
 
 "Put all that you have of value in a secure place. . ." 
 
 "And what for?" 
 
 '*Bum all papers written by you or to you. The most 
 innocent can be interpreted in a bad sense." 
 
 "But what for?" 
 
 "What for? Because I have just discovered a con- 
 
The Discovery. 221 
 
 spiracy which will be attributed to you in order to ruin 
 you/' 
 
 "A conspiracy ? And who has planned it ?" 
 
 "I have been unable to learn the author of it. Only 
 a moment ago I was talking with one of the un- 
 fortunate men who have been paid for it. I could not dis- 
 suade him." 
 
 "And didn't that fellow say who paid him?'* 
 
 "Yes. Asking me to keep the secret, he told me that 
 it was you." 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Ibarra. He stood stupefied. 
 
 "Senor, don't hesitate, don't doubt, don't lose time, for 
 undoubtedly the conspiracy will break out this very night." 
 
 Ibarra, with staring eyes, and hands holding his head, 
 seemed not to hear him. 
 
 "The blow cannot be thwarted," continued Elias. ''I 
 have arrived too late. I do not know their leaders. . . 
 eave yourself, Senor, save yourself for the sake of your 
 country." 
 
 "Where shall I flee ? They are expecting me this even- 
 ing," exclaimed Ibarra, thinking of Maria Clara. 
 
 "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." 
 
 "And if I myself denounce the conspiracy?" 
 
 "You denounce it?" exclaimed Elias, looking at him, 
 and stepping back. "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. . . " 
 
 "But what can be done?" 
 
 "Already I have told you. Destroy all the papers you 
 have which relate to you; flee and await developments." 
 
 "And Maria Clara?" exclaimed the young man. "No; 
 death first !" 
 
 Elias wrung his hands and said: 
 
 "Well, then, at least avoid the blow. Prepare yourself 
 against their accusations." 
 
 Ibarra looked around him in a stupefied manner. 
 
 '*Then, help me ! There in those bags I have my fam- 
 
222 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ily letters. Sort out tHose from my father, whicH are, 
 perhaps, the ones that would incriminate me. Eead the 
 signatures/' 
 
 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: 
 
 "Did your family know Don Pedro Eibarramendia ?^ 
 
 "Certainly !" replied Ibarra, opening a drawer and tak- 
 ing out a pile of papers. "He was my great-grandfather." 
 
 "Your great grandfather ? Don Pedro Eibarramendia ?" 
 he again asked, with livid features and a changed appear- 
 ance. 
 
 "Yes," replied Ibarra, distracted, '^e cut short the 
 name, for it was too long." 
 
 "He was a Basque ?" said Elias approaching him. 
 
 "Yes; but what's the matter?" he asked, surprised. 
 
 Elias closed his fist, shook it in Ibarra's face dnd looked 
 at him. Crisostomo stepped back as soon as he read the 
 expression on that face. 
 
 "Do you know who Don Pedro Eibarramendia was?" 
 lie asked between his teeth. "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." 
 
 Ibarra looked at him terrified. Elias shook him by the 
 arm and, in a bitter voice, filled with hate, said: 
 
 ^Tjook at me well ; see if I have suffered, and you, you 
 live, you love, you have fortune, home, consideration. You 
 live. . . you live!" 
 
 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 ct Ibarra, who 
 remained immovahle. 
 
 ^'What am I to do ?" he said and fled from the house. 
 
The Catastrophe. 223 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXV. 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 There in the dining-room Captain Tiago, Linares, and 
 Aunt Isabel were eating supper. In the sala 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's ear, while Father Salvi uneasily paced 
 the sala. 
 
 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. 
 
 "You will see how that ghost will stay till eight o'clock,'' 
 murmured Sinang, pointing to the curate. "At eight 
 o'clock he ought to come. This priest is as much in love 
 as Linares." 
 
 Maria Clara looked at her friend, frightened. The lat- 
 ter, without noticing her expression, continued her terrible 
 gossip : 
 
 "Ah! Now I know why he doesn't go, in spite of all 
 my hints. He doesn't want to bum the lamps in the con- 
 vent. Don't you see ? Ever since you fell ill, he has had 
 the two lights which he used to bum, put out. But look at 
 his eyes and his face !" 
 
 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. 
 
 "He is coming," said Sinang, pinching Maria Clara. 'T>o 
 you hear ?" 
 
 The bell in the church tolled eight and all arose to pray. 
 Father Salvi, with a weak and trembling voice, led, but, as 
 each one had his own thoughts, nobody paid any attention 
 to him. 
 
224 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 to- 
 ward 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 cry- 
 ing "tulisan! tulisanr Andeng followed them, brandish- 
 ing a spit and ran toward her foster sister. 
 
 Aunt Isabel fell on her knees and prayed the Kyrie 
 eleison. Captain Tiago, pale and trembling, carried a 
 chicken'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. 
 
 The cries and blows continued, the windows were shut 
 with a bang, a whistle was heard, and occasionally a shot. 
 
 ''Christe eleison! Santiago, fasten the windows," 
 groaned Aunt Isabel. 
 
 'Tifty great bombs and a thanksgiving mass," replied 
 Captain Tiago. *'Ora pro nobis r 
 
 After a time, things quieted down and there was a ter- 
 rible silence. The voice of the alferez was distinguished, 
 as he came running in, and crying: "Father curate! 
 Father Salvi! Come!" 
 
 "Miser e! The alferez is asking for confession!" cried 
 Aunt Isabel. 
 
 "Is he wounded ?" asked Linares at last. "Ah !" 
 
 "Come, Father Salvi! There is nothing to fear now," 
 continued the alferez, shouting. 
 
 Father Salvi, pale, and decided at last, came out of his 
 hiding-place and went downstairs. 
 
 "The tulisanes have killed the alferez T said Aunt Isabel. 
 
 "Maria Clara, Sinang, go to your room! Fasten the 
 door! Kyrie eleison!" 
 
 Ibarra also went toward the stairs, in spite of Aunt 
 
The Catastrophe. 225 
 
 Isabel, who was saying : " Don't go out ! You haven't con- 
 fessed yet. Don't go out !" 
 
 The good old woman had been a great friend of Ibarra's 
 mother. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Near the cuartel he saw some soldiers with their 
 bayonets fixed, talking excitedly. He passed by unseen. 
 
 In the tribunal, blows, cries, wails, and curses were 
 heard. The alferez*s voice drowned all the others. 
 
 "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 !" 
 
 Ibarra hastened his steps toward his house. His servants 
 were uneasily awaiting him. 
 
 "Saddle the best horse and go to bed !" said he to them.^ 
 
 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, arm- 
 ing himself with a dirk and two revolvers, he turned to the 
 cupboard where he had some tools. 
 
 At that instant, three blows, loud and strong, sounded 
 on the door. 
 
 "Who's there?" asked Ibarra, in a doleful voice. 
 
 "Open in the name of the King ! Open the door at once, 
 or we will knock it down !" replied an imperious Spanish 
 voice. 
 
 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. 
 
226 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 THree Guards seized him instantly. 
 
 '^ou are made a prisoner in the name of the King!" 
 said the sergeant. 
 
 "What tovr 
 
 "They will tell you later. We axe prohibited from say- 
 ing a word." 
 
 The young man reflected a moment and not wishing, 
 perhaps, the soldiers to discover his preparations for flight, 
 he took his hat and said : 
 
 "I am at your disposal. I suppose it will be only for a 
 short time." 
 
 "If you promise not to escape, we will not handcuff you. 
 The alferez grants this favor, but if you flee " 
 
 Ibarra followed, leaving the servants in consternation. 
 
 In the meantime^ what had become of Elias? 
 On leaving Crisostomo'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 
 peeple, 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 to- 
 ward 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 be- 
 ing followed by the infuriated shades of his ancestors. He 
 saw the horrible basket hanging from every branch with 
 the blood-covered head of Balat, just as his father had 
 described it to him. He thought he saw the dead body of 
 his grandmother Jying 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, "Coward ! Coward !" 
 
 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. 
 
The Catastrophe. 227 
 
 Elias fell upon His knees on the sand. 
 
 "And you, too V he cried stretching out his arms. 
 
 Then, with his eyes fixed on the fog, he arose slowly 
 and, advancing toward it, went into the water as if to fol- 
 low 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 yoimg 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's 
 huts. 
 
 He returned to the shore and made his way toward the 
 town. What for ? He himself did not know. 
 
 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 soli- 
 tude. 
 
 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's house. The servants were in the 
 door, lamenting and commenting on the arrest of their 
 master. 
 
 Aware of what had passed, Elias went away, but re- 
 turned 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 He glanced toward the garden and, by the light of the 
 
228 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 moon, he saw two Civil Guards coming with an adjutant. 
 Their bayonets and helmets were glistening in the light. 
 
 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, hesi- 
 tated — ^put it in one of the little sacks, and jumped out 
 of the window with them all. 
 
 It was already time, for the two Civil Guards were 
 forcing their entrance. 
 
 *'Let us go up to get your master's papers/' said the 
 adjutant. 
 
 "Have you permission ? If not, you shall not go up !" 
 said an old servant. 
 
 But the soldiers pushed the servants aside with the butts 
 of their guns and went upstairs. A thick smoke was al- 
 ready filling the whole house, and gigantic tongues of 
 flame were coming out from the sola, licking the doors 
 and windows. 
 
 "Fire ! Fire ! Fire r they all cried. 
 
 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. 
 
What People Say and Think. 229 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVI. 
 
 WHAT PEOPLE SAY AND THINK. 
 
 Day dawned at last for the terrorized people. The 
 streets in which the cuartel and the tribunal were situa- 
 ted 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. 
 
 The example had been set. Without any doubt tjie 
 opening and closing of the shutter has been heard, for an- 
 other window was opened very slowly and cautiously and 
 a wrinkled and toothless old woman thrust out her head. 
 She was called Sister Rute. 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. 
 
 ^^Jesus! It was like a thanksgiving mass," said Sister 
 Rufa. 
 
 "Since the time that Balat sacked the town I have 
 never seen a night like it," replied Sister Pute. 
 
 "What a lot of shots ! They say that it was old Pablo'3 
 gang." 
 
 ^'Tulisanes? It couldn^t be. They say that it was the 
 cuaderilleros against the Civil Guards. For this reason, 
 they have arrested Don Filipo." 
 
 "Sanctus DeusI They say that there are no less than 
 fourteen killed." 
 
 Other windows were opened and different faces ap- 
 peared, exchanging salutations and commenting on the 
 affair. 
 
 In the light of the day — which promised to be a splen- 
 
230 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 did one — could be seen in the distance, like ash-colored 
 shadows, soldiers hurrying about in confusion. 
 
 "There goes another corpse !'' said some one from one 
 of the windows. 
 
 "One ? I see two." 
 
 "And so do I. But do you know what it was?'' asked 
 a man with a crafty face. 
 
 "Certainly. The cuaderilleros" 
 
 "No, Senor. An uprising at the cuartelf 
 
 "What uprising? The curate against the dlferezf* 
 
 "No, nothing of the sort,'^ said he who had asked the 
 question. "The Chinese have risen in revolt.'^ 
 
 And he closed his window again. 
 
 "The Chinese!" repeated all, with the greatest aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 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 
 Guardia Civil had defended her. 
 
 By this time the number of the dead was no longer four- 
 teen, but thirty. Captain Tiago, it was said, was wounded 
 and was going right off to Manila with his family. 
 
 The arrival of two cuaderilleros, 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 whicli 
 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. 
 
 "I have just come from the tribunal, where I have 
 seen Don Filipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners," said a 
 man to Sister Pute. "I talked with one of the cuaderil- 
 leros 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 re- 
 venge and tried to kill all the Spaniards, even the curate. 
 Last night they attacked the convent and the cuartel. 
 Happily, by mercy of God, the curate was in Captain 
 Tiago's house. They say that many escaped. The Civil 
 
What People Say and Think. 231 
 
 Guards burned Don Crisostomo^s house, and if they had 
 not taken him prisoner, they would have burned him, too." 
 
 "They burned the house?" 
 
 "All the servants were arrested. Why, you can still see 
 the smoke from here!" said the narrator, approaching 
 the window. "Those who come from there relate very 
 sad things." 
 
 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. 
 
 "Poor young man !" exclaimed an old man, the husband 
 of Pute. 
 
 'TTes !" replied his wife, ^^ut he did not order a mass 
 for the soul of his father, who undoubtedly needs itmore 
 than others." 
 
 "But wife, you don't have any pity. . . " 
 
 "Sympathy for the excommunicated ? It is a sin to have 
 pity for the enemies of God, say the curates. Don't you 
 remember ? He ran over the sacred burial ground as if he 
 were in a cattle pen." 
 
 "But a cattle pen and a cemetery are much alike," re- 
 sponded the old man, "except that but one class of ani- 
 mals enter the cemetery." 
 
 "What!" cried Sister Pute. "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!" 
 
 The husband became silent in view of this argument. 
 
 "Yes," continued the old woman, "after striking Father 
 Damaso, there was nothing left for him to do but to kill 
 Father Salvi." 
 
 "But you can't deny that he was a good boy when he 
 was a child." 
 
 "Yes, he was a good child," replied the old woman, 'T3ut 
 he went to Spain. All those who go to Spain return 
 heretics, so the curates say." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the husband, seeing his revenge. 
 "And the curate, and all the curates, and the Archbishops, 
 and the Pope, and the Virgin — are they not Spaniards? 
 Bah! Are they heretics, too? Bah!" 
 
 Happily for Sister Pute, the arrival of a servant, who 
 rushed in confused and pale, cut off the discussion. 
 
232 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ''A man hanged in a neighboring orchard 1" sHe ex- 
 claimed breathless. 
 
 "A man hanged!" exclaimed all, full of amazement. 
 
 The women crossed themselves. No one could stir. 
 
 "Yes, Senor," continued the servant, trembling. "I was 
 going to gather some peas in. . . . I looked into the or- 
 chard 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 an- 
 other, and was dead. . . I ran, ran and. . . " 
 
 '^Let us go and see it,^' said the old man, rising. 
 "Take us there.'' 
 
 "Don't go !" cried Sister Pute, seizing him by the shirt. 
 
 "You'll get into trouble! He has hanged himself? 
 Then all the worse for him!" 
 
 "Let me see it, wife ! Go to the tribunal, Juan, and re- 
 port it. Perhaps he is not dead yet." 
 
 And he went ino the orchard, followed by the servant, 
 who kept hid behind him. The women and Sister Pute 
 herself came along behind, full of terror and curiosity. 
 
 "There it is, Senor," said the servant stopping him 
 and pointing with her finger. 
 
 The group stopped at a respectful distance, allowing 
 the old man to advance alone. 
 
 The body of a man, hanging from the limb of a santol 
 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. 
 
 "We ought not to touch the corpse until some official 
 has arrived," said he, in a loud voice. "He is already 
 stiff. He has been dead for some time." 
 
 The women approached hesitatingly. 
 
 "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." 
 
 "Ave Maria!" exclaimed some of the women. 
 
 "Shall we pray for his soul?" asked a young girl as 
 soon as she had finished looking at the dead body from all 
 directions. 
 
 "You fool? You heretic!" Sister Pute scolded her. 
 "Don't you know what Father Damaso said ? To pray for 
 
What People Say and Think, 233 
 
 a damned person is to tempt God. He who commits sui- 
 cide is irrevocably condemned. For this reason, he can- 
 not 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." 
 
 "I saw him twice speaking with the sacristan mayor," 
 observed a girl. 
 
 ''It couldn't have been to confess himself or to order 
 a mass!" 
 
 The neighbors gathered together and a large circle sur- 
 rounded the corpse which was still swinging. In half an 
 hour some officers and two cuaderilleros arrived. They 
 took the body down and put it in a wheelbarrow. 
 
 "Some people are in a hurry to die," said one of the 
 officers, laughing, while he took out the pen from behind 
 his ear. 
 
 He asked some trifling questions; took the declara- 
 tion of the servant, whom he tried to implicate, now look- 
 ing at her with evil in his eyes, now threatening her and 
 now attributing to her words which Bhe did not say — 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 camisa 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 "stick-tights"* on 
 his clothing, even up to his neck. 
 
 "What do you see?" asked the officer. 
 
 "I was trying to identify him, senor," stammered the 
 peasant, lowering his hat further from his uncovered 
 head. 
 
 *A plant (Desmodium caresceus), the dry seeds of which cling 
 to the clothing. 
 
234 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "But haven't you heard that it was one Lucas? Were 
 you sleeping?'' 
 
 All began to laugh. The peasant, embarrassed, mut- 
 tered a few words, and went away with head down, walk- 
 ing slowly. 
 
 "Here! Where are you going?" cried the old man. 
 "You can't get out that way. That's the way to the dead 
 man's house." 
 
 "That fellow is still asleep," said the officer with a 
 jeer. "We'll have to throw some water on him !" 
 
 Those standing around laughed again. 
 
 The peasant left the place where he had played so poor 
 a part and directed his steps toward the church. In the 
 sacristry, he asked for the sacristan mayor. 
 
 "He is still sleeping!" they replied gruffly. "Don't 
 you know that they sacked the convent last night ?" 
 
 "I will wait till he awakes." 
 
 The sacristans looked at him with that rudeness char- 
 acteristic of people who are in the habit of being ill-treated. 
 
 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. 
 
 The peasant sat down near by, disposed to wait pa- 
 tiently, but a coin fell on the floor and he began looking 
 for it with the aid of a candle, under the sacristan mayor's 
 big chair. The peasant also noted "stick-tights" on the 
 sleeping man's pantaloons and on the arms of his camisa. 
 The sacristan awoke at last, rubbed his good eye, and, in 
 a very bad humor, reproached the man. 
 
 "I would like to order a mass said, senor," replied he 
 in a tone of excuse. 
 
 "They have already finished all the masses," said the 
 one-eyed man, softening his accent a little. "If you want 
 it for to-morrow. . . . Is it for souls in Purgatory?" 
 
 "No, senor;" replied the peasant, giving him a peso. 
 
 And looking fixedly in his one eye, he added: 
 
 "It is for a person who is going to die soon." And 
 he left the sacristy. "I could have seized him last night," 
 he added, sighingly as he removed the plaster from his 
 neck. And he straightened up and regained the stature 
 and appearance of Elias. 
 
Vae Victis! 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 VAE victis! 
 
 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. 
 
 The sala did not present that same joyful aspect as it 
 did when the program for the festival was being dis- 
 cussed. It was gloomy and the silence was almost death- 
 like. The Civil Guards and the cuaderilleros 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 directorcillo, two writers and some soldiers 
 scribbling papers. The alferez 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. Dona 
 Consolacion yawned in one corner of the room, and dis- 
 closed 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 wit- 
 ness 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 pun- 
 ishment. 
 
 The goibernadorcilWs chair, that large chair under the 
 portrait of His Majesty, was empty and seemed destined 
 for some other person. 
 
 At nearly nine o'clock, the curate, pale and with eye- 
 brows knit, arrived. 
 
 '^Well, you haven't made any one wait !" said the alferez 
 sarcastically to the friar. 
 
236 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "I would Have preferred not to be present/' replied 
 Father Salvi, in a low voice, without taking notice of the 
 bitter tone. . "I am very nervous/' 
 
 "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/' 
 
 ^'Young Ibarra and the teniente mayor f 
 
 The alferez pointed toward the jail. 
 
 "Eight are in there," said he. "Bruno died last night 
 at midnight, but his declaration has been obtained." 
 
 The curate saluted Dona Consolacion, who responded 
 with a yawn and an "aah !" The friar took the big chair 
 under the picture of His Majesty. 
 
 "We can begin," said he. 
 
 "Bring out the two who are in the stocks!" ordered the 
 alferez in his most terrifying voice. And turning to the 
 curate, he added, changing his tone: 
 
 "They are fastened in the stocks with two holes vacant !" 
 
 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's legs in the holes 
 on either side, would make the position strained, so that 
 the ankles would sujffer peculiarly and the lower extremi- 
 ties be stretched apart more than a yard. It does not kill 
 instantly, as may well be imagined. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 be- 
 tween 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, ac- 
 companied by oaths; the stocks were being opened. 
 
Vae Victis! 237 
 
 Dona Consolacion's body was bent forward, the muscles 
 of her neck were rigid, her eyes riveted to the half open 
 door. 
 
 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 alferez's wife. 
 
 "This is the one who defended himself most bravely, 
 and who ordered his companions to flee," said the alferez 
 to Father Salvi. 
 
 Behind came another miserable sight, a man crying and 
 weeping like a child. He was limping and his panta- 
 loons were stained with blood. 
 
 "Mercy, senor, have mercy ! I will not enter the cuartel 
 yard again," he cried. 
 
 "He is a crafty fellow," said the alferez, speaking to 
 the curate. "He wanted to flee, but had received a flesh 
 wound." 
 
 "What is your name?" asked the alferez, speaking to 
 Tarsilo. 
 
 "Tarsilo Alasigan." 
 
 "What did Don Crisostomo promise you for attacking 
 the cuartelf 
 
 "Don Crisostomo has never communicated with us." 
 
 "Don't deny it ! You wanted to surprise us for him !" 
 
 "You are mistaken. You whipped our father to death. 
 We avenged him and nothing more. Look for your two 
 soldiers !" 
 
 The alferez looked at the sergeant, surprised. 
 
 "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." 
 
 Sileuce and general surprise. 
 
 "You are not going to tell who were your accomplices ?" 
 said the alferez in a threatening manner and brandish- 
 ing a whip. 
 
 A scornful smile curled the lips of the culprit. 
 
 The alferez conferred for some minutes with the curate 
 in a low voice. Then turning to the soldiers, he ordered: 
 
 "Take him to where the dead bodies are!" 
 
 In a corner of the yard, upon an old wagon, were five 
 
238 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Do you recognize them ?" asked the alferez, lifting the 
 matting. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Do you know them?" they asked him. 
 
 Tarsilo remained silent. 
 
 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 impas- 
 sive. 
 
 "Let them whip him till they cut him to pieces or till 
 he makes a declaration," cried the alferez, exasperated. 
 
 "Speak then!" said the directorcillo to him. "They 
 will surely kill you." 
 
 They led him back to the sala of the tribunal, where the 
 other prisoner was invoking God, grating his teeth and 
 shaking on his legs. 
 
 "Do you know this man?" asked Father Salvi. 
 
 "This is the first time I have ever seen him," replied 
 Tarsilo, looking with a certain pity on the other. 
 
 The alferez gave him a cuff with his fist and kicked 
 him. 
 
 "Tie him to the bench !" 
 
 Without taking off theiJoody 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 Dona 
 Consolacion. He smiled sardonically. Those present 
 were surprised and followed his glance and saw the senora. 
 She was biting her lips. 
 
 "I have never seen an uglier woman," exclaimed Tarsilo 
 amid the general silence. "I prefer to lie down on this 
 bench as I am doing than to lie by her side, like the 
 alferez/* 
 
 The Muse turned pale. 
 
 "You are going to whip me to death, alferez" he con- 
 
Vae Victis! 239 
 
 tinned, ^^Dtit to-night I will be avenged by your woman." 
 
 "Gag him!'' shouted the alferez, furious and trembling 
 with rage. 
 
 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. 
 
 At a signal from the alferez 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. 
 
 Father Salvi, pale and with a wild look, rose to his feet 
 laboriously, made a sign with his hand and left the sala 
 with vacillating steps. In the street, he saw a girl, lean- 
 ing her back against the wall, rigid, immovable, listening 
 attentively, looking into space, her marble-like hands ex- 
 tended 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's sister. 
 
 In the meantime, the scene was continuing in the sala. 
 The unfortunate fellow, overcome with pain, had be- 
 come silent and waited for his punishers to tire. At last, 
 the soldier breathless, let fall his arm. The alferez, pale 
 with wratH and astonishment, made a signal for them to 
 unloose him. 
 
 Dona Consolacion then arose and whispered something 
 into her husband's ear. He nodded his head, signifying 
 that he understood. 
 
 "To the well with him !" said he. 
 
 The Filipinos know what that means. In Tagalog they 
 call it timhain. 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 w^s a common receptacle for everything 
 
240 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 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 vould be useful in any v/ay, 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. 
 
 Tarsilo contemplated all the preparations of the sol- 
 die:cs 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. 
 
 They took him to one side of the stone wall. Dona 
 Consolacion followed smiling. The unfortunate wretch 
 glanced enviously toward the pile of dead bodies, and a 
 sigh escaped from his breast. 
 
 "Speak now!'' said the directorcillo again. "They 
 will certainly drown you. At least, die without having 
 suffered so much.'* 
 
 "When you come out of this, you will die," said a 
 cttaderillero. 
 
 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. 
 
 The alferez went to look for a watch that he might 
 count the minutes. 
 
 In the meantime, Tarsilo was hanging, his long hair 
 waving in the air and his eyes half closed. 
 
 "If you are Christians, if you have hearts," he begged, 
 in a low voice, "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." 
 
 The alferez returned and vrith watch in hand witnessed 
 the descent. 
 
 "Slowly, slowly !" cried Dona Consolacion following the 
 poor fellow with her eyes. "Be careful !" 
 
Vae Victis! 241 
 
 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 alferez was counting the seconds. 
 
 "Up I" he ordered dryly, at the end of a half minute. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Do you want to make a declaration?" they asked him. 
 
 "Take care of my sister!" the unhappy one murmured, 
 looking at the cuaderillero, with supplication. 
 
 The bamboo pole creaked again, and again the con- 
 demned man disappeared. Dona Consolacion observed that 
 the water remained still. The alferez counted a minute. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Will you make a declaration ?" asked the alferez again, 
 with vexation. 
 
 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 sub- 
 merged in the water. That filthy curtain closed from him 
 the sight of the world. 
 
 A minute passed. The Muse saw large bubbles of air 
 come up to the surface of the water. 
 
 "He is thirsty," said she, laughing. 
 
 The water was again smooth. 
 
 This time a minute and a half had passed when the 
 alferez gave the signal. 
 
 Tarsilo'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. 
 
242 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Those present, pale and terrified, looked at each other 
 in silence. The alferez made a signal for them to take 
 him down from where he was hanging, and stepped aside 
 for a few moments. Dona 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. 
 
 "He has asphyxiated himself,'^ murmured a cuaderil- 
 lero. "See how his tongue is turned, as if he wanted to 
 swallow it.'' 
 
 The other prisoner, trembling and perspiring, con- 
 templated the scene. Like a madman he looked about 
 him. 
 
 The alferez ordered the directorcillo to question him. 
 
 "Senor, Senor," he groaned. "I will tell you all that 
 you wish." 
 
 "Good. Let us see ! What is your name ?" 
 
 "Andong, Senor!" 
 
 "Bernardo. . . Leonardo. . . Kicardo. . . Educardo. 
 Gerardo. . . or what ?" 
 
 "Andong, Senor," repeated the imbecile. 
 
 "Call it Bernardo or whatever you please," said the 
 alferez, decided not to bother more about it. 
 
 "What family name?" 
 
 The man looked at him frightened. 
 
 'that's your name? What do you add to the name 
 Andong ?" 
 
 "Ah, Senor! Andong Medio-tonto (half -fool), Senor." 
 
 Those standing around could not resist a laugh. The 
 alferez himself stopped short. 
 
 "What is your business?" 
 
 "Cocoanut tree pruner, Senor, and servant for my 
 mother-in-law." 
 
 "Who ordered you to attack the cuartelV ^ 
 
 "Nobody, Senor." 
 
 "What's that; nobody? Don't you lie or we will put 
 you in the well. Who ordered you to do it? Speak thg 
 truth." 
 
 "That's the truth, Senor." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
Vae Victisl 243 
 
 "I ask you who ordered you to revolt.'' 
 
 '^hat revolt, Senor?" 
 
 "That one last night, when you were in the tribunal 
 yard.'' 
 
 "Ah, Senor!" exclaimed Andong, blushing. 
 
 "Who was to blame for that?" 
 
 "My mother-in-law, Senor." 
 
 A laugh of surprise followed this reply. The alferez 
 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. 
 
 "To the jail!" ordered the alferez, "This afternoon, 
 send him to the capital." 
 
244 hriars and Hlipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE ACCURSED. 
 
 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. 
 
 The members of the families of the prisoners were run- 
 ning about madly. They would go from the convent to 
 the cuartel from the cuartel to the tribunal, and not find- 
 ing consolation anywhere, they filled the air with cries 
 and moans. The curate had shut himself up because he 
 was ill. The alferez had increased his guards, who re- 
 ceived the supplicants with the butts of their guns. The 
 gdbernadorcillo, a useless being, anyway, seemed more 
 stupid and useless than ever. 
 
 The sun was burning hot, but none of the unhappy wo- 
 men who were gathered in front of the cuartel 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. 
 
 *^Get out of the sun," they said to her. "Your son will 
 catch a fever." 
 
 ^^hat is the use of his living if he has no father to 
 educate him?" replied the dispirited woman. 
 
 "Your husband is innocent. Perhaps he will return.'* 
 
 "Yes, when we are in our graves." 
 
 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. 
 
 There, too, was the mother-in-law of the cocoanut tree 
 pruner. She was not cr)dng ; she was walking to and fro, 
 gesticulating, with shirt sleeves rolled up, and harangu- 
 ing the public. 
 
 "Have you ever seen anything equal to it?" said she. 
 *'They arrest my Andong, wound him, put him in the 
 
The Accursed. 245 
 
 gtocks, and take him to the capital, all because he hap- 
 pened to be in the cuartel yard." 
 
 But few people had any sympathy for the Mussulman 
 mother-in-law. 
 
 "Don Crisostomo is to blame for all of this/' sighed a 
 woman. 
 
 The school teacher also was wandering about in the 
 crowd. Nor 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. 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon, an uncovered cart, 
 drawn by two oxen, stopped in front of the tribunal. 
 
 The cart was surrounded by the crowd. They wanted 
 to destroy it. 
 
 ''Don't do that!" said Capitana Maria. "Do you want 
 them to walk?" 
 
 This remark stopped the relatives of the prisoners. 
 Twenty soldiers came out and surrounded the cart. Then 
 came the prisoners. 
 
 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 em- 
 bracing her husband. Antonio, the son of Captain Tinay, 
 next appeared, crying like a child — 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. 
 
 "That is the one who is to blame!" cried many voices. 
 "He is to blame and he will go free." 
 
 "My son-in-law has done nothing and he is hand- 
 cuffed." 
 
 Ibarra turned to the guards. 
 
 "Tie me, and tie me well, elbow to elbow," said he. 
 
 *^e have no orders." 
 
24et Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Tie me r 
 
 The soldiers obeyed. 
 
 The alferez appeared on horse-back, armed to the teeth. 
 Ten or fifteen more soldiers followed him. 
 
 Each of the prisoners had there in the crowd his family 
 praying for him, weeping for him, and calling him b - 
 the most affectionate names. Ibarra was the only exception. 
 Even iS'or Juan himself and the school-teacher had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 ^'What have you done to my husband and my son ?" said 
 Doray to Ibarra, crying. "See my poor boy! You have 
 deprived him of a father !" 
 
 The grief of the people was changed to wrath against 
 the young man, accused of having provoked the riot. The 
 alferez gave orders to depart. 
 
 "You are a coward!" cried the mother-in-law of An- 
 dong to Ibarra. "While the others were fighting for you, 
 you were hiding. Coward!" 
 
 "Curses upon you !" shouted an old man following him. 
 "Cursed be the gold hoarded up by your family to disturb 
 our peace ! Curse him ! Curse him !" 
 
 "May they hang you, heretic!" cried one of Albino's 
 relatives. And unable to restrain himself, he picked 
 up a stone and threw it at Ibarra. 
 
 The example was quickly imitated, and a shower of dust 
 and stones fell on the unfortunate youth. 
 
 Ibarra suffered it all, impassive, without wrath, with- 
 out a complaint — the unjust vengeance of suffering 
 hearts. This was the leave-taking, the "adios" 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. Per- 
 haps the history of Elias was passing before his eyes. 
 
 The cortege moved slowly on and away. 
 
 Of the persons who appeared in a few opened win- 
 dows, those who showed the most compassion for the un- 
 fprtunate 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. 
 
 Ibarra saw the smouldering ruins of his house, of the 
 
The Accursed. 247 
 
 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 any- 
 body. Now he had neither fatherland, home, love, friends 
 or future. 
 
 From a height a man contemplated the funeral-like car- 
 avan. 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 
 Bome time, pensive and his head bowed down; then he 
 arose, and laboriously started on the road to his house, 
 resting at every step. 
 
 The following day, shepherds found him dead on the 
 very threshold of his solitary retreat. 
 
248 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 MART A CLARA IS MAKEIED. 
 
 Captain Tiago was very happy. During all this ter- 
 rible time nobody had busied himself with him. They 
 had not arrested him, nor had they submitted him to ex- 
 communications, court trials, electrical machines, con- 
 tinual 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's 
 friends — for he had renounced all his Filipino friends 
 from the moment that they were suspected by the Govern- 
 ment — ^had also returned to their homes after some days 
 of vacation spent in the Government buildings. The Gov- 
 ernor 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. 
 
 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. Ac- 
 cording 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: 
 
 ^'1 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, Senor Linares has, as you know, 
 joked with Senor Antonio Canovas himself, whose por- 
 trait we saw in 'Illustracion.' ^^ 
 
 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 
 
Maria Clara is Married. 249 
 
 had been lacking, at last one had appeared which could 
 confirm the accusation; and that skilled workmen had de- 
 clared 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 ex- 
 pected from ignorant Indians. These rumors quieted 
 the Captain and made him smile. 
 
 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 — 
 those who followed the miracle monger, and those who fol- 
 lowed the Government. The latter party, however, was 
 quite insignificant. The miracle mongers were sub-di- 
 vided into other factions: the Sacristan Mayor of Bi- 
 nondo, 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 when- 
 ever he went on a pilgrimage to Antipolo, was saying as 
 he sat fanning himself and wiggling his foot : 
 
 "What for you belong foolish? Thisee belong Mergin 
 Antipolo. She can do muchy more: others, no can do. 
 No belong plopper say pidgin belong other man." 
 
 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: 
 
 "If thisee one no b'long man, and no go dead side, will 
 b'long bery good woman." 
 
 And so it was that Maria Clara came to this earth 
 and fulfilled the Chinaman's prophecy. 
 
 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. "Pru- 
 dence," he said to himself. ^*Be prudent ! Let us not lose 
 all now." 
 
 He was in the midst of these doubts when the party in 
 favor of the Government, or the Governmental party, 
 arrived, viz.. Dona Victorina, Don Tiburcio, and Linars. 
 
250 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 Dona 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 categoria. 
 
 For some days past, she had been trying to be Anda- 
 lusian by suppressing the d in all words and in changing 
 the s to z. No one could get the idea out of her head; 
 she would prefer to lose her front curls first. 
 
 "Yes," she said, in speaking of Ibarra. "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 
 ftlihustero. What did the General tell you, cousin ? What 
 did he say ? What news did you give him about Ibarra ?" 
 
 Seeing that the cousin hesitated in his reply, she went 
 on, directing her words to Captain Tiago. 
 
 "Believe me, if they convict him, as is to be hoped, it 
 will be through my cousin.'' 
 
 "Senora, Seiiora !" protested Linares. 
 
 But she did not give him any time. 
 
 "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." 
 
 Maria Clara seemed paler than ever, although she was 
 now quite recovered from her illness. Sadly smiling, she 
 approached and greeted Dona Victorina with a formal 
 kiss. 
 
 After the customary words had been exchanged. Dona 
 went on with her false Andalusian. 
 
 "We came to visit you. You have been saved by the 
 efforts of your friends," — looking significantly at Linares. 
 
 "God has protected my father," said the girl, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Yes, Clarita, but the time for miracles has passed long 
 ago. As we Spaniards say: 'Have no trust in the Virgin 
 and save yourself by running.' " 
 
 "The — th — the ot — ot — other way," said the doctor, cor- 
 recting her proverbial quotation. 
 
 Captain Tiago, who had not yet found opportunity to 
 say a word, ventured to ask her, giving much attention 
 
Maria Clara is Married. 251 
 
 to her reply: "So yon. Dona Victorina, believe that the 
 Virgin. . . ?" 
 
 "That is precisely what we came for, to speak to you 
 about the Virgin," replied she, indicating Maria Clara. 
 "We have a matter to talk over." 
 
 The maiden understood that she ought to retire. She 
 sought an excuse and went away, supporting herself on 
 the furniture as she walked along. 
 
 What was said in the conference which followed was 
 so low and mean that we prefer to omit it. It is suffi- 
 cient for us to say that when they took their leave all were 
 happy, and that Captain Tiago afterward said to his 
 cousin : 
 
 "Isabel, send word to the restaurant that we are going 
 to give a fiesta to-morrow. You get Maria ready to be 
 married in a short time." 
 
 Aunt Isabel looked at him, surprised. 
 
 "You will see! When Senor 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." 
 
 And thus it was that at eight o'clock on the following 
 evening. Captain Tiago'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 rep- 
 resented by Spaniards bom in the Peninsula or in the 
 Philippines. 
 
 The larger part of our acquaintances was there: Father 
 Sibyla, Father Salvi and several other Franciscans and 
 Dominicans, the old lieutenant of the Civil Guard, Senor 
 Guevara, more melancholy than ever; the alferez, who re- 
 lated 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 com- 
 mander; De Espadana, who looked at the former with re- 
 spect and fear and avoided his glance; and the indignant 
 Dona Victorina. Linares was not yet present, for, being 
 a very important personage, it was fitting that he should 
 arrive later than the others. 
 
 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. 
 
252 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "Psh !" said one of the girls. "A little stuck-up V' 
 
 "A cute little thing/' replied another, "but he might 
 have selected some one of a more intelligent appearance.'' 
 
 "It's the money; he's a good-looking fellow and sells 
 himself for a good price." 
 
 In another part of the room they were talking like 
 this: 
 
 "Marry, when her former betrothed is about to be 
 hanged V 
 
 "I call that prudence; to have one on hand as a sub- 
 stitute." 
 
 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. 
 
 The conversation among the men was in a loud tone. 
 Naturally, they were conversant with the recent happen- 
 ings. All were talking, even Don Tiburcio, with the ex- 
 ception of Father Sibyla, who maintained a disdainful 
 silence. 
 
 "I have heard that Your Keverence leaves the town, 
 Father Salvi?" asked the newly made lieutenant, now 
 made more amiable by the star on his sleeve. 
 
 "I have nothing more to do now in San Diego. I am 
 permanently settled in Manila now. . . and you?" 
 
 "I also leave the town," replied the former alferez, 
 straightening up. "The Government needs me to take 
 command of a flying column to clear the provinces of 
 filibusteros." 
 
 Friar Salvi looked him over from head to foot, and 
 turned his back to him completely. 
 
 "Is it yet known for a certainty what is to become of 
 the leader of the revolutionists?" asked a Government 
 employee. 
 
 "Are you referring to Crisostomo Ibarra?" asked an- 
 other. "What is most probable and most just is that he 
 be hanged, as those were in '72." 
 
 "He will be exiled," said the old lieutenant, dryly. 
 
 "Exiled ! Nothing more than exiled ! But it will be a 
 perpetual exile!" exclaimed several at the same time. 
 
 "If that young fellow," Lieutenant Guevara went on to 
 
Maria Clara is Married. 253 
 
 say in a, loud voice, ^Tiad been more cautions; if he had 
 trusted certain people less with whom he had correspond- 
 ence; and if the officers had not made a subtle interpre- 
 tation of what was written — if it had not been for all of 
 this, that young man would surely have gone free." 
 
 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 Salvi 
 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. 
 
 "Are you referring to the letters, Senor Guevara?" 
 
 "I am telling what the defendant'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 Gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 "And what about the declaration made by the bandit 
 before he died?" 
 
 "That statement has proved of no account, since, ac- 
 cording to the bandit himself, the conspirators never had 
 communicated with the young man, but only with one, 
 Lucas, who was Ibarra'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 — a fact which shows that it was copied from the let- 
 ter 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." 
 
 "Do you say," asked a Franciscan, "that the letter was 
 directed to a young woman? How did it get into the 
 hands of the officers ?" 
 
 The lieutenant did not reply. He looked for a mo- 
 
254 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 ment at Friar Salvi and then walked off, twisting nervously 
 the end of his grey beard. In the meantime, others were 
 commenting something like this : 
 
 "There you see the hand of God !" said one. "Even the 
 women hate him.'' 
 
 "He had his house burned, thinking that he could thus 
 save himself. But he did not reckon with his host — that 
 is, with his querida* with his hahai/'* added another, smil- 
 ing. "That is God's work. Santiago protects Spain I" 
 
 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. 
 
 "You are a very prudent young woman," said the old 
 lieutenant to her in a low voice. "You have done well 
 to hand over the letter. . . In this way you will assure 
 yourself of a peaceful future." 
 
 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's dress. 
 
 "Aunt," she murmured. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" asked the latter, 
 frightened, as she saw the young woman's face. 
 
 "Take me to my room !" she begged, clinging to the arm 
 of the old woman in order to raise herself to her feet. 
 
 "Are you sick, my child? You seem to have lost all 
 your strength. What is the matter with you ?" 
 
 "A little sick to my stomach. . . the crowd in the sala 
 ... so much light. . . I need to rest. Tell father that 
 I am going to sleep." 
 
 "You are cold ! Do you want some tea ?" 
 
 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: 
 
 "Mother, mother, my mother !" 
 
 The moonlight was shining through the open window 
 and door which led out upon the azotea. 
 
 The orchestra continued playing gay waltzes. The 
 laughter and the hum of convorsation could be heard in 
 *Both words mean mistress. 
 
Maria Clara is Married. 255 
 
 her bedroom. A number of times her family, Aunt Isabel, 
 Dona Victorina, and even Linares, knocked at her door, 
 but Maria Clara did not move. There was a rattle in her 
 throat. 
 
 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. 
 
 Gradually the noises in the house died away, the lights 
 were put out, and Aunt Isabel again knocked at the door 
 of her room. 
 
 "Let us leave her ; she is sleeping,^' said her aunt. "At 
 her age, with nothing to trouble her, she sleeps like a 
 corpse." 
 
 When all was again silent, Maria arose slowly and 
 glanced around her. She saw the azotea and the small 
 climbing plants bathed in the melancholy light of the 
 moon. 
 
 "A peaceful future ! Sleeping like a corpse !" sl\e mur- 
 mured in a low voice, and turned toward the azotea. 
 
 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. 
 
 The maiden raised her eyes to the pure, sapphire-col- 
 ored sky. Slowly she took off her rings, her hair-combs, 
 her earrings, and her breast-pin, and placing them upon 
 the balustrade of the azotea she looked out toward the 
 river. 
 
 A hanca, 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 azotea. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Crisostomo \" she gasped, full of terror. 
 
 "Yes, I am Crisostomo!" replied the young man, in a 
 
256 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 grare Toice. "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." 
 
 Silence followed these words. Maria Clara bowed her 
 head and allowed both her hands to drop at her side. 
 
 Ibarra continued: 
 
 '^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!" 
 
 Ibarra tried to leave, but the maiden stopped him. 
 
 ''Crisostomo V she said. "God has sent you to save me 
 from desperation. . . Hear me and judge me!" 
 
 Ibarra wished to withdraw gently from her. 
 
 "I have not come," said he, "to call you to account. . . 
 I have come to give you peace." 
 
 "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." 
 
 Ibarra saw the poor girl's desperation, and asked her 
 what she desired. 
 
 "That you may believe that I have always loved you." 
 
 Crisostomo smiled bitterly. 
 
 "Ah ! You doubt me, you doubt the friend of your in- 
 fancy, who has never hidden a single thought from you," 
 exclaimed she in grief. "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." 
 
 Maria Clara rested a moment and then continued: 
 
 "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 for- 
 
Maria Clara is Married. 257 
 
 bade me to love you. . . unless my true father should 
 pardon you for the offense you committed against him." 
 
 Ibarra recoiled and looked in terror at the maiden. 
 
 "Yes," she continued. "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. . . " 
 
 And she whispered a name in the young man's ear in 
 a scarcely audible voice. 
 
 "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?" 
 
 "But the proof? Have you proof? You need proof!" 
 exclaimed Crisostomo, deeply agitated. 
 
 The maiden drew two letters from her bosom. 
 
 "Two of my mother'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 con- 
 sent 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?" 
 
 Ibarra was prostrated. Maria Clara went on: 
 
 '^hat 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?" 
 
 "Maria, you are a saint," 
 
258 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 "I am happy now that you believe me." 
 
 ^^owever/' added the young man, changing his tone 
 *'^I have heard that you are about to marry." 
 
 ^TTes," sobbed the maiden. "My father asked this sac 
 rifice of me. He has fed me and loved me, and it wa 
 not his duty. I pay him this debt of gratitude which ; 
 owe him by assuring him peace through this new relative 
 but. . . " 
 
 "But?" 
 
 "I shall not forget the oaths of fidelity wEich I mad 
 to you." 
 
 "What do you think of doing?" asked Ibarra, trying 
 to read her eyes. 
 
 ^^The future is obscure and Destiny is hidden in dark 
 ness. I do not know what I am to do ; but I know that " 
 can love only once, and that without love I never wil 
 belong to any one. And you, what is to become of you?' 
 
 "I am nothing but a fugitive. . . I am fleeing. In i 
 very short time, they will discover my escape, Maria. . . .' 
 
 Maria Clara clasped her arms about her lover's neck 
 kissed his lips repeatedly, hugged him, and then, abruptly 
 breaking away from him, said: 
 
 "Flee! flee! AdiosT 
 
 Ibarra looked at her, his eyes sparkling, but she mo 
 tioned and he went away, staggering like a drunken man 
 Again he leaped over the wall and entered the hanca 
 Maria Clara, leaning on the door casing, watched him de- 
 part. 
 
 Elias took off his hat and bowed profoundly. 
 
The Pursuit on the Lake. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE PURSUIT ON THE LAKE. 
 
 ^TJiSTEN^ Senor, to my plan/' said Elias, as they di- 
 rected the lanca toward San Miguel. "I will for the 
 present hide you in the house of my friend in Mandalu- 
 yong. I will bring you all your money, which I have 
 saved and kept for you at the foot of the old haliti tree, 
 in the mysterious tomb of your grandfather. You shall 
 leave the country.^' 
 
 "To go to a strange land?" interrupted Ibarra. 
 
 ''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." 
 
 Crisosotomo did not reply. He meditated in silence. 
 
 Just then they reached the Pasig and t\iQ~-hanca 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. 
 
 "Elias," replied Ibarra, "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." 
 
 Elias sadly replied: 
 
 "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'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; 
 
260 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 at least, let me weep with them over our grief; let tHe 
 same misery oppress all our hearts/' 
 
 "Then why do you advise me to leave?" 
 
 'because in other lands you can be happy, and I can- 
 not; 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's own country 
 is the greatest misery." 
 
 "You are unjust to me," exclaimed Ibarra, with bitter 
 reproach. "You forget that I have scarcely arrived here, 
 and that I have already sought its welfare." 
 
 "Do not be offended, Seiior. 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, per- 
 secuted, denounced and betrayed by your very country- 
 men, on that day you will curse yourself, your country and 
 all." 
 
 "Your words grieve me," said Ibarra, resentfully. 
 
 Elias bowed his head, meditated and replied: 
 
 "I wish to set you right, Senor, and to avoid a miserable 
 future for you. You remember the time when I was 
 talking to you in this same hanca 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 unfortu- 
 nates 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." 
 
 ^Tou are right, !E)lias, but man is influenced by change! 
 
The Pursuit on the Lake. 261 
 
 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 sap- 
 ping 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 be- 
 come a criminal. I will be a filibiLstero, but a true filihus- 
 tero. 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's country ! We for three centuries 
 have given them our hand, we have asked them for their 
 love, we have anxiously wished to call tliem 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 noth- 
 ing but the right of force." 
 
 Ibarra was excited. His whole body was trembling. 
 
 They passed by the Governor General's palace, and be- 
 lieved they saw agitation and movement among the 
 guards. , 
 
 "Have they discovered our flight?" murmured Elias. 
 "Lie down, Senor, 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 see- 
 ing two of us in this small banca/' 
 
 As Elias had foreseen, the sentry stopped him and asked 
 him where he came from. 
 
 "From Manila, with grass for the magistrates and cu- 
 rates," replied he,^ imitating the accent of one from Pan- 
 dakan. 
 
 A sergeant came out and was informed what was going 
 on. 
 
 "SulungT (Go on!) said he. "I warn you not to re- 
 ceive any one in your hanca. A prisoner has just escaped. 
 If you capture him and hand him over to me I will give 
 you a good reward." 
 
 "All right, Senor. What is his description?" 
 
 "He wears a frock coat and speaks Spanish. With 
 that much, be on the watch !" 
 
262^ Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 The hanca went on. Elias turned his face and saw the 
 shadow of the sentry, still standing on the bank of the 
 river. 
 
 "We will lose several minutes/' said he, in a low voice. 
 "We will have to go up the Beata river in order to carry 
 out my pretense of being from Pena Francia." 
 
 The town was sleeping in the light of the moon. Cris- 
 ostomo arose to admire the sepulchral peace of Nature. 
 The river was narrow and its banks formed a plain planted 
 with rice. 
 
 Elias threw the load on the bank, picked up a piece of 
 bamboo and drew out from under the grass in the bancd 
 some empty sacks. They went on rowing. 
 
 "You are master of your own will, Senor, and of your 
 own future,'^ said he to Crisostomo, who kept silent. "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 discontent- 
 ed. 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, Senor, 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 suf- 
 fers, 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 — ^which is still far off. I myself would 
 not follow you. I shall never take recourse to these ex- 
 treme remedies while I see hope in men." 
 
 "Then I will go without you!" replied Crisostomo, 
 resolutely. 
 
 "Is it your firm decision ?" 
 
 ^TTes, my firm and only decision: I call to witness the 
 memory of my father! I cannot allow them to deprive 
 
The Pursuit on the Lake. 263 
 
 me of peace and happiness with impunity, I who have 
 desired only my country's welfare, I who have respected 
 all and have suffered on account of a hypocritical reli- 
 gion, on account of love for my country. How have they 
 responded to me? By burying me in an infamous prison 
 and by prostituting my fiancee. No, not to avenge myself 
 would be a crime. It would be encouraging them to com- 
 mit 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 — ^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!" 
 "Innocent people will suffer." 
 
 "All the better ! Can you lead me to the mountain ?" 
 "Till you are safe!" replied Elias. 
 They again went up the Pasig. They spoke from time 
 to time of indifferent things. 
 
 "Santa Ana!" murmured Ibarra. "Do you recognize 
 that house?" 
 
 They passed by the country house of the Jesuits. 
 "There I passed many happy and joyful years !" sighed 
 Elias. "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." 
 
 They remained silent till they arrived at Malapad-na- 
 bato. 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 si- 
 lence drowns the harsh accents of their voices, when Na- 
 ture alone speaks — those who have seen such nights on the 
 Pasig will understand the feelings which filled the hearts 
 of both young men. 
 
264 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 In Malapad-na-lfeto the carbineer was half asleep, and, 
 seeing that the hanca was empty and offered no booty for 
 him to seize, accordirxg to the traditional custom of his 
 corps and the use made of that position, he readily let 
 them pass on. 
 
 Nor did the Civil Guard at Pasig suspect anything, and 
 they were not molested. 
 
 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 dis- 
 cerned advancing toward the hanca. 
 
 "The falua (or Government steamboat) is coming," 
 murmured Elias. "Lie down and I will cover you with 
 these sacks." 
 
 The outline of the vessel became more clear and per- 
 ceptible. 
 
 "She is putting in between the beach and us," observed 
 Elias uneasily. 
 
 And then he changed the course of the hanca a little, 
 rowing toward Binangonan. To his great surprise he no- 
 ticed that the falua was also changing its course, while a 
 voice cried out to him. 
 
 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 falua. He thought of returning to the 
 Pasig. His hanca was swifter than the falua. 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. 
 
 '^e are caught!" he murmured, turning paTe. 
 
 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. 
 
 The hanca glided along rapidly. Elias saw some men 
 standing up on the falua, making signals to him. 
 
 "Do you know how to manage a hanca?'' he asked 
 Ibarra. 
 
 '^es; why?'' 
 
 ^'Because we are lost if I do not leap into Hhe waten 
 
The Pursuit on the Lake. 265 
 
 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.^' 
 
 "No; you remain and we will sell our lives dearly." 
 
 ^njseless ! We have no arms, and with those rifles they 
 will kill us like birds." 
 
 At that moment a chiss was heard in the water like the 
 fall of a hot body, and was followed immediately by a 
 report. 
 
 "Do you see?" said Elias, putting his paddle in the 
 hanca. "We will see each other again at the tomb of your 
 grandfather on Nocheheuna (Christmas eve.) Save your- 
 self." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "God has taken me through greater dangers." 
 
 Elias took off his camisa. 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 bot- 
 tom of the boat. Then he arose and leaped into the water, 
 pushing away the small craft with his foot. 
 
 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 in- 
 stant. 
 
 "There, there he is !" cried a number of voices, and the 
 balls from their rifles whistled again. , 
 
 The falua and the other hanca took up the chase. A 
 light track of foam marked his course, every moment 
 leading farther and farther away from Ibarra's hanca, 
 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 falua discharged their guns at 
 him. 
 
 The pursuit continued. Ibarra's little hanca was al- 
 ready 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, 
 
266 Friars and Filipinos* 
 
 some ten yarcls off, and they opened fire. . . . TEen mimites 
 and minutes passed. Nothing appeared again on the 
 tranquil surface of the lake. 
 
 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. 
 
Father Damaso Explains. 267 
 
 CHAPTEE XLL 
 
 FATHER DAMASO EXPLAINS. 
 
 In" vain the costly wedding gifts were heaped upon the 
 table. Neither the diamonds in their blue velvet caskets, 
 nor the embroidered pina, nor the pieces of silk had any 
 attractions for Maria Clara. The maiden looked at the 
 paper which gave the account of Ibarra's death, drowned 
 in the lake, but she neither saw nor read it. 
 
 Of a sudden, she felt two hands over her eyes. They 
 held her fast while a joyous voice, Father Ddmaso's, said 
 to her: 
 
 "Who am I? Who am I?'' 
 
 Maria Clara jumped from her seat and looked at him 
 with terror in her eyes. 
 
 "You little goose, were you frightened, eh? You were 
 not expecting me? Well, I have come from the prov- 
 inces to attend your wedding.^' 
 
 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. 
 
 "What is the matter with you, Maria ?" asked the Fran- 
 ciscan, losing his gay smile, and becoming very uneasy. 
 "Your hand is cold, you are pale. . . Are you ill, my little 
 girl ?" 
 
 And Father Damaso drew her up to him with a fondness 
 of which no one would have thought him capable. He 
 grasped both the maiden's hands and gave her a ques- 
 tioning look. 
 
 "Haven't you any confidence in your godfather?" he 
 asked in a reproachful tone. "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. . . " 
 
 Father Damaso's voice ceased to be brusque; its modu' 
 
268 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 lations were even caressing. Maria Clara began to weep. 
 
 "Are yon weeping, my child? Why are you weeping? 
 Have you quarrelled with Linares ?" 
 
 Maria Clara covered her eyes with her hands. 
 
 "No ! It is not he now !" cried the maiden. 
 
 Father Damaso looked at her full of surprise. 
 
 "Do you not want to entrust your secrets to me ? Have 
 I not always managed to satisfy your smallest caprices?" 
 
 The young woman raised her eyes full of tears toward 
 him. She looked at him for some time, and then began 
 to weep bitterly. 
 
 "Do not cry so, my child, for your tears pain me ! Tell 
 me your troubles. You will see how your godfather loves 
 you.'' 
 
 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: 
 
 "Do you still love me?'' 
 
 "Child!" 
 
 "Then. . . protect my father and break off the mar- 
 riage !" 
 
 Then she related her last interview with Ibarra, omit- 
 ting the reference to her birih. 
 
 Father Damaso could scarcely believe what he heard. 
 
 "While he lived," continued the maiden, "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." 
 
 She said this slowly, in a low voice, calmly and without 
 a tear. 
 
 "But, you goose; isn't Linares a thousand times bet- 
 ter than. . . ?" 
 
 "When he was living, I could have married. . . I was 
 thinking of fleeing afterward. . . my father wanted 
 nothing more than the relative. N"ow 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.'* 
 Her voice had a firmness in its accent which took away 
 Father Damaso's joy and set him to thinking. 
 
Father Damaso Explains. 269 
 
 '^id you love him so much as that?" he asked, stam- 
 mering. 
 
 Maria Clara did not reply. Father Damaso bowed his 
 head upon his breast and remained silent. 
 
 "My child I" he exclaimed, his voice breaking. "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 imhappy 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 hus- 
 band, 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 
 bom not to obey but to command, not to suffer but to pun- 
 ish. 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 daugh- 
 ter. 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." 
 
 And Father Damaso began to weep like a child. 
 
 "Well, then, if you love me do not make me eternally 
 unhappy. He no longer lives ; I want to be a nun." 
 
 The old man rested his head on his hand. 
 
 "To be a nun, to be a nun !" he repeated. "You do not 
 know, my child, the life, the misery, which is hidden be- 
 hind 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 com- 
 plaints can be heard, there you will have only the walls. 
 You are beautiful, very beautiful, and you were not bom 
 
270 Friars and Filipinos. 
 
 for it, you were not bom to be the bride of Christ! Be- 
 lieve me, my child, time will blot it all out. Later you 
 will forget, you will love your husband. . . Linares.^' 
 
 "Either the convent or ... . death!" repeated Maria 
 Clara. 
 
 "The convent, the convent or death !" exclaimed Father 
 Damaso. "Maria, I am already old, I will not be able to 
 watch you or your happiness much longer. . . Choose an- 
 other course, seek another love, another young man, who- 
 ever he may be, but not the convent." 
 
 "The convent or death 1" 
 
 "My God, my God V cried the priest, covering his head 
 with his hands. "Thou punisheth me. So be it! But 
 watch over my child." 
 
 And turning to the young woman: "You want to be 
 a nun? You shall be one. I do not want you to die." 
 
 Maria Clara took his two hands, clasped them in her 
 own and kissed them as she knelt. 
 
 "Godfather, my godfather!" she repeated. 
 
 Immediately, Father Damaso went out, sad, with droop- 
 ing head and sighing. 
 
 "God, God! Thou existeth, for Thou punisheth. 
 But avenge Thyself on me and do not harm the innocent. 
 Save my child!" 
 
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