AN EAGLE FLIGHT

 I have in this rough work shaped out a man Whom this beneath-world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment: my free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax; no levell'd malice Infects one comma in the course I hold; But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no track behind. 

 Timon of Athens--Act 1, Scene 1. 

 An Eagle Flight

 A Filipino Novel

 Adapted from

 "NOLI ME TANGERE"

 By

 DR. JOSÉ RIZAL

 NEW YORK

 McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 

 MCMI

 Copyright, 1900, By McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 

CONTENTS. 

 Chapter Page

 I. --The House on the Pasig 1 II. --Crisóstomo Ibarra 7 III. --The Dinner 9 IV. --Heretic and Filibuster 12 V. --A Star in the Dark Night 15 VI. --Captain Tiago and Maria 17 VII. --Idylle 20 VIII. --Reminiscences 23 IX. --Affairs of the Country 25 X. --The Pueblo 30 XI. --The Sovereigns 32 XII. --All Saints' Day 35 XIII. --The Little Sacristans 40 XIV. --Sisa 44 XV. --Basilio 47 XVI. --At the Manse 50 XVII. --Story of a Schoolmaster 53 XVIII. --The Story of a Mother 57 XIX. --The Fishing Party 63 XX. --In the Woods 71 XXI. --With the Philosopher 79 XXII. --The Meeting at the Town Hall 87 XXIII. --The Eve of the Féte 94 XXIV. --In the Church 102 XXV. --The Sermon 105 XXVI. --The Crane 109 XXVII. --Free Thought 116 XXVIII. --The Banquet 119 XXIX. --Opinions 126 XXX. --The First Cloud 130 XXXI. --His Excellency 134 XXXII. --The Procession 142 XXXIII. --Doña Consolacion 145 XXXIV. --Right and Might 150 XXXV. --Husband and Wife 156 XXXVI. --Projects 163 XXXVII. --Scrutiny and Conscience 165 XXXVIII. --The Two Women 170 XXXIX. --The Outlawed 176 XL. --The Enigma 181 XLI. --The Voice of the Persecuted 183 XLII. --The Family of Elias 187 XLIII. --Il Buon di si Conosce da Mattina 193 XLIV. --La Gallera 196 XLV. --A Call 201 XLVI. --A Conspiracy 204 XLVII. --The Catastrophe 208 XLVIII. --Gossip 212 XLIX. --Væ Victis 217 L. --Accurst 221 LI. --Patriotism and Interest 224 LII. --Marie Clara Marries 232 LIII. --The Chase on the Lake 242 LIV. --Father Dámaso Explains Himself 247 LV. --The Nochebuena 251

INTRODUCTION

JOSÉ RIZAL

In that horrible drama, the Philippine revolution, one man ofthe purest and noblest character stands out pre-eminently--JoséRizal--poet, artist, philologue, novelist, above all, patriot; hisinfluence might have changed the whole course of events in the islands, had not a blind and stupid policy brought about the crime of his death. 

This man, of almost pure Tagalo race, was born in 1861, at Calamba, in the island of Luzon, on the southern shore of the Laguna de Bay, where he grew up in his father's home, under the tutorage of a wiseand learned native priest, Leontio. 

The child's fine nature, expanding in the troublous latter daysof a long race bondage, was touched early with the fire of genuinepatriotism. He was eleven when the tragic consequences of the Cavitéinsurrection destroyed any lingering illusions of his people, andstirred in them a spirit that has not yet been allayed. 

The rising at Cavité, like many others in the islands, was a protestagainst the holding of benefices by friars--a thing forbidden by adecree of the Council of Trent, but authorized in the Philippines, bypapal bulls, until such time as there should be a sufficiency of nativepriests. This time never came. As the friars held the best agriculturallands, and had a voice--and that the most authoritative--in civilaffairs, there developed in the rural districts a veritable feudalsystem, bringing in its train the arrogance and tyranny that likeconditions develop. It became impossible for the civil authoritiesto carry out measures in opposition to the friars. "The Governmentis an arm, the head is the convent, " says the old philosopher ofRizal's story. 

The rising at Cavité miscarried, and vengeance fell. Dr. Joseph Burgos, a saintly old priest, was put to death, and three other native priestswith him, while many prominent native families were banished. Neverhad the better class of Filipinos been so outraged and aroused, andfrom this time on their purpose was fixed, not to free themselvesfrom Spain, not to secede from the church they loved, but to agitateceaselessly for reforms which none of them longer believed could berealized without the expulsion of the friars. In the school of thispurpose, and with the belief on the part of his father and Leontio thathe was destined to use his life and talents in its behalf, José wastrained, until he left his home to study in Manila. At the College ofthe Jesuits he carried off all the honors, with special distinctionin literary work. He wrote a number of odes; and a melodrama inverse, the work of his thirteenth year, was successfully played atManila. But he had to wear his honors as an Indian among white men, and they made life hard for him. He specially aroused the dislike ofhis Spanish college mates by an ode in which he spoke of his patria. ATagalo had no native land, they contended--only a country. 

At twenty Rizal finished his course at Manila, and a few months laterwent to Madrid, where he speedily won the degrees of Ph. D. And M. D. ;then to Germany--taking here another degree, doing his work in thenew language, which he mastered as he went along; to Austria, where hegained great skill as an oculist; to France, Italy, England--absorbingthe languages and literature of these countries, doing some finesculpture by way of diversion. But in all this he was single-minded;he never lost the voice of his call; he felt more and more keenlythe contrast between the hard lot of his country and the freedom ofthese lands, and he bore it ill that no one of them even knew abouther, and the cancer eating away her beauty and strength. At the endof this period of study he settled in Berlin, and began his activework for his country. 

Four years of the socialism and license of the universities had notdistorted Rizal's political vision; he remained, as he had grown up, an opportunist. Not then, nor at any time, did he think his countryready for self-government. He saw as her best present good hercontinued union to Spain, "through a stable policy based upon justiceand community of interests. " He asked only for the reforms promisedagain and again by the ministry, and as often frustrated. To plead forthe lifting of the hand of oppression from the necks of his people, he now wrote his first novel, "Noli Me Tangere. "

The next year he returned to the Philippines to find himself theidol of the natives and a thorn in the flesh of friars and greedyofficials. The reading of his book was proscribed. He stayed longenough to concern himself in a dispute of his townspeople with theDominicans over titles to lands; then finding his efforts vain and hissafety doubtful, he left for Japan. Here he pursued for some time hisusual studies; came thence to America, and then crossed to England, where he made researches in the British Museum, and edited in Spanish, "Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas, " by Dr. Antonio de Morga, an importantwork, neglected by the Spaniards, but already edited in English byDean Stanley. 

After publishing this work, in Paris, Rizal returned to Spain, where, in 1890, he began a series of brilliant pleas for the Philippines, in the Solidaridad, a liberal journal published at Barcelona andafterward at Madrid. But he roused little sympathy or interest inSpain, and his articles, repeated in pamphlets in the Philippines, served to make his position more dangerous at home. 

Disheartened but steadfast, he retired to Belgium, to write his secondnovel, "El Filibusterismo. " "Noli Me Tangere" is a poet's story of hispeople's loves, faults, aspirations, and wrongs; "El Filibusterismo"is the work of a student of statecraft, pointing out the way topolitical justice and the development of national life. Inspired, it would seem, by his own creation of a future for his country, hereturned to the Solidaridad, where, in a series of remarkable articles, he forecast the ultimate downfall of Spain in the Philippines andthe rise of his people. This was his crime against the Government:for the spirit which in a Spanish boy would not permit a Tagalo tohave a patria, in a Spaniard grown could not brook the suggestion ofcolonial independence, even in the far future. 

And now having poured out these passionate pleas and splendidforecasts, Rizal was homesick for this land of his. He went toHong-Kong. Calamba was in revolt. His many friends at the English portdid everything to keep him; but the call was too persistent. December23d, 1891, he wrote to Despujols, then governor-general of thePhilippines: "If Your Excellency thinks my slight services could beof use in pointing out the evils of my country and helping heal thewounds reopened by the recent injustices, you need but to say so, andtrusting in your honor as a gentleman, I will immediately put myselfat your disposal. If you decline my offer, ... I shall at least beconscious of having done all in my power, while seeking the good ofmy country, to preserve her union to Spain through a stable policybased upon justice and community of interests. "

The governor expressed his gratitude, promised protection, andRizal sailed for Manila. But immediately after his landing he wasarrested on a charge of sedition, whose source made the governor'spromise impotent. Nothing could be proved against Rizal; but it wasnot the purpose of his enemies to have him acquitted. A half-waysentence was imposed, and he was banished to Dapidan, on the islandof Mindanao. Despujols was recalled to Spain. 

In this exile Rizal spent four years, beloved by the natives, teachingthem agriculture, treating their sick (the poor without charge), improving their schools, and visited from time to time by patients fromabroad, drawn here by his fame as an oculist. Among these last camea Mr. Taufer, a resident of Hong-Kong, and with him his foster-child, Josephine Bracken, the daughter of an Irish sergeant. The pretty andadventurous girl and the banished patriot fell in love with each other. 

These may well have been among the happiest years of Rizal'slife. He had always been an exile in fact: now that he was one inname, strangely enough he was able for the first time to live inpeace among his brothers under the skies he loved. He sang, in hispathetic content:

 "Thou dear illusion with thy soothing cup! I taste, and think I am a child again. 

 Oh! kindly tempest, favoring winds of heaven, That knew the hour to check my shifting flight, And beat me down upon my native soil, ... "

Always about his philological studies, he began here a work thatshould be of peculiar interest to us: a treatise on Tagalog verbs, inthe English language. Did his knowledge of America's growing feelingtoward Cuba lead him to foresee--as no one else seems to have done--herappearance in the Philippines, or was he thinking of England?

At Hong-Kong, and in his brief stays at Manila, Rizal had establishedthe Liga Filipina, a society of educated and progressive islanders, whose ideas of needed reforms and methods of attaining them were atone with his own. His banishment was a warning of danger and checkedthe society's activity. 

The Liga was succeeded, in the sense only of followed, by theKatipunan, --a native word also meaning league. The makers of this"league, " though avowing the same purpose as the members of the other, were men of very different stamp. Their initiation was a blood-rite:they sought immediate independence; they preached a campaign of force, if not of violence. That a recent reviewer should have connectedDr. Rizal's name with the Katipunan is difficult to understand. Notalone are his writings, acts, and character against such a possibility, but so also is the testimony of the Spanish archives: for not onlywas it admitted at his final trial that he was not suspected of anyconnection with the Katipunan, but his well-known disapproval of thatsociety's premature and violent action was even made a point againsthim. He was so much the more dangerous to the state because he had thesagacity to know that the times were not yet ripe for independence, and the honesty and purity of purpose to make only demands which thestate herself well knew to be just. 

When the rebellion of 1896 broke out, Rizal, still at Dapidan, knew that his life would not long be worth a breath of his belovedPhilippine air. He asked, therefore, of the Government permission togo to Cuba as an army surgeon. It was granted, and he was taken toManila--ovations all along his route--and embarked on the Isla dePanay for Barcelona. He carried with him the following letter fromGeneral Blanco, then governor-general of the Philippines, to theMinister of War at Madrid:

 Manila, August 30th, 1896. 

 Esteemed General and Distinguished Friend:

 I recommend to you with genuine interest, Dr. José Rizal, who is leaving for the Peninsula, to place himself at the disposal of the Government as volunteer army surgeon to Cuba. During the four years of his exile at Dapidan, he has conducted himself in the most exemplary manner, and he is in my opinion the more worthy of pardon and consideration, in that he is in no way connected with the extravagant attempts we are now deploring, neither those of conspirators nor of the secret societies that have been formed. 

 I have the pleasure to reassure you of my high esteem, and remain, Your affectionate friend and comrade, Ramon Blanco. 

But as soon as the Isla was on the seas, despatches began to passbetween Manila and Madrid, and before she reached her port thepromises, acceptances, and recommendations of the Government officialswere void. Upon landing, Rizal was immediately arrested and confinedin the infamous Montjuich prison. Despujols was now military governorof Barcelona. The interview of hours which he is said to have hadwith his Filipino prisoner must have been dramatic. Rizal was atonce re-embarked, on the Colon, and returned to Manila, a stateprisoner. Blanco was recalled, and Poliavieja, a sworn friend of theclericals, was sent out. 

Rizal was tried by court-martial, on a charge of sedition andrebellion. His guilt was manifestly impossible. Except as a prisonerof the state, he had spent only a few weeks in the Philippines sincehis boyhood. His life abroad had been perfectly open, as were all hiswritings. The facts stated in General Blanco's letter to the Ministerof War were well known to all Rizal's accusers. The best they coulddo was to aver that he had written "depreciative words" against theGovernment and the Church. Some testimony was given against him by menwho, since the American occupation, have made affidavit that it wasfalse and forced from them by torture. Rizal made a splendid defence, but he was condemned, and sentenced to the death of a traitor. On thatday José Rizal y Mercado and Josephine Bracken were married. Thenthe sweetness and strength of his character and his singleness ofpurpose made a beautiful showing. In the night, which his bride spenton her knees outside his prison, he wrote a long poem of farewellto his patria adorado, fine in its abnegation and exquisite in thewanderings of its fancy. He received the ministrations of a Jesuitpriest. He was perfectly calm. "What is death to me?" he said;"I have sown, others are left to reap. " At dawn he was shot. 

The poem in which he left a record of his last thoughts was thefollowing:

 MY LAST THOUGHT. 

 Land I adore, farewell! thou land of the southern sun's choosing! Pearl of the Orient seas! our forfeited Garden of Eden! Joyous I yield up for thee my sad life, and were it far brighter, Young, rose-strewn, for thee and thy happiness still would I give it. Far afield, in the din and rush of maddening battle, Others have laid down their lives, nor wavered nor paused in the giving. What matters way or place--the cyprus, the lily, the laurel, Gibbet or open field, the sword or inglorious torture, When 'tis the hearth and the country that call for the life's immolation?

 Dawn's faint lights bar the east, she smiles through the cowl of the darkness, Just as I die. Hast thou need of purple to garnish her pathway? Here is my blood, on the hour! pour it out, and the sun in his rising Mayhap will touch it with gold, will lend it the sheen of his glory. 

 Dreams of my childhood and youth, and dreams of my strong young manhood, What were they all but to see, thou gem of the Orient ocean! Tearless thine eyes so deep, unbent, unmarred thy sweet forehead. 

 Vision I followed from far, desire that spurred on and consumed me! Greeting! my parting soul cries, and greeting again!... O my country! Beautiful is it to fall, that the vision may rise to fulfilment, Giving my life for thy life, and breathing thine air in the death-throe; Sweet to eternally sleep in thy lap, O land of enchantment!

 If in the deep, rich grass that covers my rest in thy bosom, Some day thou seest upspring a lowly, tremulous blossom, Lay there thy lips, 'tis my soul; may I feel on my forehead descending, Deep in the chilly tomb, the soft, warm breath of thy kisses. Let the calm light of the moon fall around me, and dawn's fleeting splendor; Let the winds murmur and sigh, on my cross let some bird tell its message; Loosed from the rain by the brazen sun, let clouds of soft vapor Bear to the skies, as they mount again, the chant of my spirit. There may some friendly heart lament my parting untimely, And if at eventide a soul for my tranquil sleep prayeth, Pray thou too, O my fatherland! for my peaceful reposing. Pray for those who go down to death through unspeakable torments; Pray for those who remain to suffer such torture in prisons; Pray for the bitter grief of our mothers, our widows, our orphans; Oh, pray too for thyself, on the way to thy final redemption. 

 When our still dwelling-place wraps night's dusky mantle about her, Leaving the dead alone with the dead, to watch till the morning, Break not our rest, and seek not to lay death's mystery open. If now and then thou shouldst hear the string of a lute or a zithern, Mine is the hand, dear country, and mine is the voice that is singing. 

 When my tomb, that all have forgot, no cross nor stone marketh, There let the laborer guide his plough, there cleave the earth open. So shall my ashes at last be one with thy hills and thy valleys. Little 'twill matter then, my country, that thou shouldst forget me! I shall be air in thy streets, and I shall be space in thy meadows. I shall be vibrant speech in thine ears, shall be fragrance and color, Light and shout, and loved song forever repeating my message. 

Rizal's own explanation of the lofty purpose of his searching storyof his Tagalog fatherland was in these words of his dedicatory preface:

TO MY COUNTRY

The records of human suffering make known to us the existence ofailments of such nature that the slightest touch irritates and causestormenting pains. Whenever, in the midst of modern civilizations, I have tried to call up thy dear image, O my country! either for thecomradeship of remembrance or to compare thy life with that aboutme, I have seen thy fair face disfigured and distorted by a hideoussocial cancer. 

Eager for thy health, which is our happiness, and seeking the bestremedy for thy pain, I am about to do with thee what the ancients didwith their sick: they exposed them on the steps of their temples, thatevery one who came to adore the divinity within might offer a remedy. 

So I shall strive to describe faithfully thy state without extenuation;to lift a corner of the covering that hides thy sore; sacrificingeverything to truth, even the love of thy glory, while loving, asthy son, even thy frailties and sins. 

José Rizal. 

AN EAGLE FLIGHT

I. 

THE HOUSE ON THE PASIG. 

It was toward the end of October. Don Santiago de los Santos, betterknown as Captain Tiago, was giving a dinner; and though, contrary tocustom, he had not announced it until that very afternoon, it hadbecome before evening the sole topic of conversation, not only atBinondo, but in the other suburbs of Manila, and even in the cityitself. Captain Tiago passed for the most lavish of entertainers, and it was well known that the doors of his home, like those of hiscountry, were closed to nobody and nothing save commerce and allnew or audacious ideas. The news spread, therefore, with lightningrapidity in the world of the sycophants, the unemployed and idle, whom heaven has multiplied so generously at Manila. 

The dinner was given in a house of the Calle de Anloague, whichmay yet be recognized, if an earthquake has not demolished it. Thishouse, rather large and of a style common to the country, stood nearan arm of the Pasig, called the Boco de Binondo, a rio which, likeall others of Manila, washing along the multiple output of baths, sewers, and fishing grounds serves as a means of transport, and evenfurnishes drinking-water, if such be the humor of the Chinese carrier. Scarcely at intervals of a half-mile is this powerful artery of thequarter where the traffic is most important, the movement most active, dotted with bridges; and these, in ruins at one end six months ofthe year and inapproachable the remaining six at the other, givehorses a pretext for plunging into the water, to the great surprise ofpreoccupied mortals in carriages dozing tranquilly or philosophizingon the progress of the century. 

The house of Captain Tiago was rather low and on lines sufficientlyincorrect. A grand staircase with green balustrades, carpeted atintervals, led from the vestibule, with its squares of colored faience, to the main floor, between Chinese pedestals ornamented with fantasticdesigns, supporting vases and jardinières of flowers. 

At the top of the staircase was a large apartment, called here caida, which for this night served at once as dining- and music-room. In thecentre, a long table, luxuriously set, seemed to promise to diners-outthe most soothing satisfaction, at the same time threatening thetimid girl--the dalaga--who for six mortal hours must submit to thecompanionship of strange and diverse people. 

In contrast to these mundane preparations, richly colored picturesof religious subjects hung about the walls, and at the end of theapartment, imprisoned in ornate and splendid Renaissance carving, was a curious canvas of vast dimensions, bearing the inscription, "Our Lady of Peace and of Safe Journeys, Venerated at Antipolo. " Theceiling was prettily decorated with jewelled Chinese lamps, cageswithout birds, spheres of crystal faced with colored foil, faded airplants, botetes, etc. On the river side, through fantastic arches, halfChinese, half European, were glimpses of a terrace, with trellises andarbors, illuminated by little colored lanterns. Brilliant chandeliers, reflected in great mirrors, lighted the apartment. On a platform ofpine was a superb grand piano. In a panel of the wall, a large portraitin oil represented a man of agreeable face, in frock coat, robust, straight, symmetrical as the gavel between his jewelled fingers. 

The crowd of guests almost filled the room; the men separated fromthe women, as in Catholic churches and synagogues. An old cousinof Captain Tiago's was receiving alone. Her appearance was kindly, but her tongue not very flexible to the Castilian. She filled herrôle by offering to the Spaniards trays of cigarettes and buyos, andgiving the Filipinos her hand to kiss. The poor old lady, wearied atlast, profited by the sound of breaking china to go out hurriedly, grumbling at maladroits. She did not reappear. 

Whether the pictures roused a spirit of devotion, whether the womenof the Philippines are exceptional, the feminine part of the assemblyremained silent. Scarcely was heard even a yawn, stifled behind afan. The men made more stir. The most interesting and animated groupwas formed by two monks, two Spanish provincials, and an officer, seated round a little table, on which were wine and English biscuits. 

The officer, an old lieutenant, tall and morose, looked a Duke of Alba, retired into the Municipal Guard. He spoke little and dryly. One of themonks was a young Dominican, handsome, brilliant, precociously grave;it was the curate of Binondo. Consummate dialectician, he could escapefrom a distinguo like an eel from a fisherman's nets. He spoke seldom, and seemed to weigh his words. 

The other monk talked much and gestured more. Though his hair wasturning gray, he seemed to have preserved all his vigor. His carriage, his glance, his large jaws, his herculean frame, gave him the air of aRoman patrician in disguise. Yet he seemed genial, and if the timbreof his voice was autocratic, his frank and merry laugh removed anydisagreeable impression, so far even that one pardoned his appearingin the salon with unshod feet. 

One of the provincials, a little man with a black beard, had nothingremarkable about him but his nose, which, to judge from its size, ought not to have belonged to him entire. The other, young and blond, seemed newly arrived in the country. The Franciscan was conversingwith him somewhat warmly. 

"You will see, " said he, "when you have been here several months;you will be convinced that to legislate at Madrid and to execute inthe Philippines is not one and the same thing. "

"But----"

"I, for example, " continued Brother Dámaso, raising his voice tocut off the words of his objector, "I, who count twenty-three yearsof plane and palm, can speak with authority. I spent twenty yearsin one pueblo. In twenty years one gets acquainted with a town. SanDiego had six thousand souls. I knew each inhabitant as if I'd borneand reared him--with which foot this one limped, how that one's potboiled--and I tell you the reforms proposed by the Ministers areabsurd. The Indian is too indolent!"

"Ah, pardon me, " said the young man, speaking low and drawing nearer;"that word rouses all my interest. Does it really exist from birth, this indolence of the native, or is it, as some travellers say, only anexcuse of our own for the lack of advancement in our colonial policy?"

"Bah! ask Señor Laruja, who also knows the country well; ask him ifthe ignorance and idleness of the Indians are not unparalleled?"

"In truth!" the little dark man made haste to affirm; "nowhere willyou find men more careless. "

"Nor more corrupt, nor more ungrateful. "

"Nor more ill-bred. "

The young man looked about uneasily. "Gentlemen, " said he, stillspeaking low, "it seems to me we are the guests of Indians, and thatthese young ladies----"

"Bah, you are too timid: Santiago does not consider himself an Indian, besides, he isn't here. These are the scruples of a newcomer. Wait alittle. When you have slept in our strapped beds, eaten the tinola, and seen our balls and fêtes, you'll change your tone. And more, youwill find that the country is going to ruin; she is ruined already!"

"What does your reverence mean?" cried the lieutenant and Dominicantogether. 

"The evil all comes from the fact that the Government sustainswrong-doers in the face of the ministers of God, " continued theFranciscan, raising his voice and facing about. "When a curate ridshis cemetery of a malefactor, no one, not even the king, has the rightto interfere; and a wretched general, a petty general from nowhere----"

"Father, His Excellency is viceroy, " said the officer, rising. "HisExcellency represents His Majesty the king. "

"What Excellency?" retorted the Franciscan, rising in turn. "Who isthis king? For us there is but one King, the legitimate----"

"If you do not retract that, Father, I shall make it known to thegovernor-general, " cried the lieutenant. 

"Go to him now, go!" retorted Father Dámaso; "I'll loan you mycarriage. "

The Dominican interposed. 

"Señores, " said he in a tone of authority, "you should not confusethings, nor seek offence where there is none intended. We mustdistinguish in the words of Father Dámaso those of the man from thoseof the priest. The latter per se can never offend, because they areinfallible. In the words of the man, a sub-distinction must be made, into those said ab irato, those said ex ore, but not in corde, andthose said in corde. It is these last only that can offend, and eventhen everything depends. If they were not premeditated in mente, but simply arose per accidens in the heat of the conversation----"

At this interesting point there joined the group an old Spaniard, gentle and inoffensive of aspect. He was lame, and leaned onthe arm of an old native woman, smothered in curls and frizzes, preposterously powdered, and in European dress. With relief everyone turned to salute them. It was Doctor de Espadaña and his wife, the Doctora Doña Victorina. The atmosphere cleared. 

"Which, Señor Laruja, is the master of the house?" asked the youngprovincial. "I haven't been presented. "

"They say he has gone out. "

"No presentations are necessary here, " said Brother Dámaso; "Santiagois a good fellow. "

Er hat das Pulfer nicht erfunden. "He didn't invent gunpowder, "added Laruja. 

"What, you too, Señor de Laruja?" said Doña Victorina over herfan. "How could the poor man have invented gunpowder when, if whatthey say is true, the Chinese made it centuries ago?"

"The Chinese? 'Twas a Franciscan who invented it, " said Brother Dámaso. 

"A Franciscan, no doubt; he must have been a missionary to China, "said the Señora, not disposed to abandon her idea. 

"Who is this with Santiago?" asked the lieutenant. Every one lookedtoward the door, where two men had just entered. They came up to thegroup around the table. 

II. 

CRISÓSTOMO IBARRA. 

One was the original of the portrait in oil, and he led by the handa young man in deep black. "Good evening, señores; good evening, fathers, " said Captain Tiago, kissing the hands of the priests, "I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisóstomo Ibarra. "

At the name of Ibarra there were smothered exclamations. Thelieutenant, forgetting to salute the master of the house, surveyedthe young man from head to foot. Brother Dámaso seemed petrified. Thearrival was evidently unexpected. Señor Ibarra exchanged the usualphrases with members of the group. Nothing marked him from other guestssave his black attire. His fine height, his manner, his movements, denoted sane and vigorous youth. His face, frank and engaging, of arich brown, and lightly furrowed--trace of Spanish blood--was rosyfrom a sojourn in the north. 

"Ah!" he cried, surprised and delighted, "my father's old friend, Brother Dámaso!"

All eyes turned toward the Franciscan, who did not stir. 

"Pardon, " said Ibarra, puzzled. "I am mistaken. "

"You are not mistaken, " said the priest at last, in an odd voice;"but your father was not my friend. "

Ibarra, astonished, drew slowly back the hand he had offered, andturned to find himself facing the lieutenant, whose eyes had neverleft him. 

"Young man, are you the son of Don Rafael Ibarra?"

Crisóstomo bowed. 

"Then welcome to your country! I knew your father well, one of themost honorable men of the Philippines. "

"Señor, " replied Ibarra, "what you say dispels my doubts as to hisfate, of which as yet I know nothing. "

The old man's eyes filled with tears. He turned away to hide them, and moved off into the crowd. 

The master of the house had disappeared. Ibarra was left alone in themiddle of the room. No one presented him to the ladies. He hesitateda moment, then went up to them and said:

"Permit me to forget formalities, and salute the first of mycountrywomen I have seen for years. "

No one spoke, though many eyes regarded him with interest. Ibarraturned away, and a jovial man, in native dress, with studs ofbrilliants down his shirt-front, almost ran up to say:

"Señor Ibarra, I wish to know you. I am Captain Tinong, and live nearyou at Tondo. Will you honor us at dinner to-morrow?"

"Thank you, " said Ibarra, pleased with the kindness, "but to-morrowI must leave for San Diego. "

"What a pity! Well then, on your return----"

"Dinner is served, " announced a waiter of the Café La Campana. 

The guests began to move toward the table, not without much ceremonyon the part of the ladies, especially the natives, who required agreat deal of polite urging. 

III. 

THE DINNER. 

The two monks finding themselves near the head of the table, liketwo candidates for a vacant office, began politely resigning in eachother's favor. 

"This is your place, Brother Dámaso. "

"No, yours, Brother Sibyla. "

"You are so much the older friend of the family. "

"But you are the curate of the quarter. "

This polite contention settled, the guests sat down, no one but Ibarraseeming to think of the master of the house. 

"What, " said he, "you're not to be with us, Don Santiago?"

But there was no place: Lucullus was not dining with Lucullus. 

"Don't trouble yourself, " said Captain Tiago, laying his hand on theyoung man's shoulder. "This feast is a thank-offering for your safereturn. Ho, there! bring the tinola! I've ordered the tinola expresslyfor you, Crisóstomo. "

"When did you leave the country?" Laruja asked Ibarra. 

"Seven years ago. "

"Then you must have almost forgotten it. "

"On the contrary, it has been always in my thoughts; but my countryseems to have forgotten me. "

"Why do you say that?" asked the old lieutenant. 

"Because for several months I have had no news, so that I do not evenknow how and when my father died. "

The lieutenant could not repress a groan. 

"And where were you that they couldn't telegraph you?" asked DoñaVictorina. "When we were married, we sent despatches to the peninsula. "

"Señora, I was in the far north, " said Ibarra. 

"You have travelled much, " said the blond provincial; "which of theEuropean countries pleased you most?"

"After Spain, my second country, the nations that are free. "

"And what struck you as most interesting, most surprising, in thegeneral life of nations--the genius of each, so to put it?" askedLaruja. 

Ibarra reflected. 

"Before visiting a country I carefully studied its history, and, except the different motives for national pride, there seems tome nothing surprisingly characteristic in any nation. Given itshistory, everything appears natural; each people's wealth and miseryseem in direct proportion to its freedom and its prejudices, and inconsequence, in proportion to the self-sacrifice or selfishness ofits progenitors. "

"Did you discover nothing more startling than that?" demandedthe Franciscan, with a mocking laugh. "It was hardly worth whilesquandering money for so slight returns. Not a schoolboy but knowsas much. "

The guests eyed one another, fearful of what might follow. Ibarra, astonished, remained silent a moment, then said quietly:

"Señores, do not wonder at these words of Brother Dámaso. He was mycurate when I was a little boy, and with his reverence the years don'tcount. I thank him for thus recalling the time when he was often anhonored guest at my father's table. "

Brother Sibyla furtively observed the Franciscan, who was tremblingslightly. At the first possible opportunity Ibarra rose. 

"You will pardon me if I excuse myself, " he said. "I arrived onlya few hours ago, and have matters of importance to attend to. Thedinner is over. I drink little wine, and scarcely taste liquors. " Andraising a glass as yet untouched, "Señores, " he said, "Spain and thePhilippines forever!"

"You're not going!" said Santiago in amazement. "Maria Clara and herfriends will be with us in a moment. What shall I say to her?"

"That I was obliged to go, " said Ibarra, "and that I'm coming earlyin the morning. " And he went out. 

The Franciscan unburdened himself. 

"You saw his arrogance, " he said to the blond provincial. "These youngfellows won't take reproof from a priest. That comes of sending themto Europe. The Government ought to prohibit it. "

That night the young provincial added to his "Colonial Studies, "this paragraph: "In the Philippines, the least important person at afeast is he who gives it. You begin by showing your host to the door, and all goes merrily.... In the present state of affairs, it wouldbe almost a kindness to prohibit young Filipinos from leaving theircountry, if not even from learning to read. "

IV. 

HERETIC AND FILIBUSTER. 

Ibarra stood outside the house of Captain Tiago. The night wind, which at this season brings a bit of freshness to Manila, seemed toblow away the cloud that had darkened his face. Carriages passedhim like streaks of light, hired calashes rolled slowly by, andfoot-passengers of all nationalities jostled one another. With therambling gait of the preoccupied or the idle, he took his way towardthe Plaza de Binondo. Nothing was changed. It was the same street, with the same blue and white houses, the same white walls with theirslate-colored fresco, poor imitations of granite. The church towershowed the same clock with transparent face. The Chinese shop hadthe same soiled curtains, the same iron triangles. One day, long ago, imitating the street urchins of Manila, he had twisted one of thesetriangles: nobody had ever straightened it. "How little progress!" hemurmured; and he followed the Calle de la Sacristia, pursued by thecry of sherbet venders. 

"Marvellous!" he thought; "one would say my voyage was a dream. SantoDios! the street is as bad as when I went away. "

While he contemplated this marvel of urban stability in an unstablecountry, a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. He looked up andrecognized the old lieutenant. His face had put off its expressionof sternness, and he smiled kindly at Crisóstomo. 

"Young man, " he said, "I was your father's friend: I wish you toconsider me yours. "

"You seem to have known my father well, " said Crisóstomo; "perhapsyou can tell me something of his death. "

"You do not know about it?"

"Nothing at all, and Don Santiago would not talk with me tillto-morrow. "

"You know, of course, where he died. "

"Not even that. "

Lieutenant Guevara hesitated. 

"I am an old soldier, " he said at last, in a voice full of compassion, "and only know how to say bluntly what I have to tell. Your fatherdied in prison. "

Ibarra sprang back, his eyes fixed on the lieutenant's. 

"Died in prison? Who died in prison?"

"Your father, " said the lieutenant, his voice still gentler. 

"My father--in prison? What are you saying? Do you know who my fatherwas?" and he seized the old man's arm. 

"I think I'm not mistaken: Don Rafael Ibarra. "

"Yes, Don Rafael Ibarra, " Crisóstomo repeated mechanically. 

"You will soon learn that for an honest man to keep out of prison isa difficult matter in the Philippines. "

"You mock me! Why did he die in prison?"

"Come with me; we will talk on the way. "

They walked along in silence, the officer stroking his beard in searchof inspiration. 

"As you know, " he began, "your father was the richest man of theprovince, and if he had many friends he had also enemies. We Spaniardswho come to the Philippines are seldom what we should be. I say thisas truthfully of some of your ancestors as of others. Most of us cometo make a fortune without regard to the means. Well, your father was aman to make enemies among these adventurers, and he made enemies amongthe monks. I never knew exactly the ground of the trouble with BrotherDámaso, but it came to a point where the priest almost denounced himfrom the pulpit. 

"You remember the old ex-artilleryman who collected taxes? He becamethe laughing-stock of the pueblo, and grew brutal and churlishaccordingly. One day he chased some boys who were annoying him, andstruck one down. Unfortunately your father interfered. There was astruggle and the man fell. He died within a few hours. 

"Naturally your father was arrested, and then his enemies unmasked. Hewas called heretic, filibustero, his papers were seized, everythingwas made to accuse him. Any one else in his place would have beenset at liberty, the physicians finding that the man died of apoplexy;but your father's fortune, his honesty, and his scorn of everythingillegal undid him. When his advocate, by the most brilliant pleading, had exposed these calumnies, new accusations arose. He had takenlands unjustly, owed men for imaginary wrongs, had relations with thetulisanes, by which his plantations and herds were unmolested. Theaffair became so complicated that no one could unravel it. Your fathergave way under the strain, and died suddenly--alone--in prison. "

They had reached the quarters. 

The lieutenant hesitated. Ibarra said nothing, but grasped the oldman's long, thin hand; then turned away, caught sight of a coach, and signalled the driver. 

"Fonda de Lala, " he said, and his words were scarcely audible. 

V. 

A STAR IN THE DARK NIGHT. 

Ibarra went up to his chamber, which faced the river, threw himselfdown, and looked out through the open window. Across the river abrilliantly lighted house was ringing with joyous music. Had the youngman been so minded, with the aid of a glass he might have seen, in thatradiant atmosphere, a vision. It was a young girl, of exceeding beauty, wearing the picturesque costume of the Philippines. A semicircleof courtiers was round her. Spaniards, Chinese, natives, soldiers, curates, old and young, intoxicated with the light and music, weretalking, gesturing, disputing with animation. Even Brother Sibyladeigned to address this queen, in whose splendid hair Doña Victorinawas wreathing a diadem of pearls and brilliants. She was white, too white perhaps, and her deep eyes, often lowered, when she raisedthem showed the purity of her soul. About her fair and rounded neck, through the transparent tissue of the piña, winked, as say the Tagals, the joyous eyes of a necklace of brilliants. One man alone seemedunreached by all this light and loveliness; it was a young Franciscan, slim, gaunt, pale, who watched all from a distance, still as a statue. 

But Ibarra sees none of this. Another spectacle appears to his fancy, commands his eyes. Four walls, bare and dank, enclose a narrowcell, lighted by a single streak of day. On the moist and noisomefloor is a mat; on the mat an old man dying. Beaten down by fever, he lies and looks about him, calling a name, in strangling voice, with tears. No one--a clanking chain, an echoed groan somewhere;that was all. And away off in the bright world, laughing, singing, drenching flowers with wine, a young man.... One by one the lightsgo out in the festal house: no more of noise, or song, or harp;but in Ibarra's ears always the agonizing cry. 

Silence has drawn her deep breath over Manila; all its life seemsgone out, save that a cock's crow alternates with the bells of clocktowers and the melancholy watch-cry of the guard. A quarter moon comesup, flooding with its pale light the universal sleep. Even Ibarra, wearied more perhaps with his sad thoughts than his long voyage, sleepstoo. Only the young Franciscan, silent and motionless just now at thefeast, awake still. His elbow on the window-place of his little cell, his chin sunk in his palm, he watches a glittering star. The starpales, goes out, the slender moon loses her gentle light, but the monkstays on; motionless, he looks toward the horizon, lost now behindthe morning mists, over the field of Bagumbayan, over the sleeping sea. 

VI. 

CAPTAIN TIAGO AND MARIA. 

While our friends are still asleep or breakfasting, we will sketchthe portrait of Captain Tiago. We have no reason to ignore him, never having been among his guests. Short, less dark than most ofhis compatriots, of full face and slightly corpulent, Captain Tiagoseemed younger than his age. His rounded cranium, very small andelongated behind, was covered with hair black as ebony. His eyes, small and straight set, kept always the same expression. His nosewas straight and finely cut, and if his mouth had not been deformedby the use of tobacco and buyo, he had not been wrong in thinkinghimself a handsome man. 

He was reputed the richest resident of Binondo, and had large estatesin La Pampanga, on the Laguna de Bay, and at San Diego. From itsbaths, its famous gallera, and his recollections of the place, San Diego was his favorite pueblo, and here he passed two monthsevery year. He had also properties at Santo Cristo, in the Calle deAnloague, and in the Calle Rosario; the exploitation of the opiumtraffic was shared between him and a Chinese, and, needless to say, brought him great gains. He was purveyor to the prisoners at Bilibid, and furnished zacate to many Manila houses. On good terms with allauthority, shrewd, pliant, daring in speculation, he was the solerival of a certain Perez in the awards of divers contracts whichthe Philippine Government always places in privileged hands. Fromall of which it resulted that Captain Tiago was as happy as can bea man whose small head announces his native origin. He was rich, and at peace with God, with the Government, and with men. 

That he was at peace with God could not be doubted. One has nomotive for being at enmity with Him when one is well in the land, and has never had to ask Him for anything. From the grand salonof the Manila home, a little door, hid behind a silken curtain, led to a chapel--something obligatory in a Filipino house. Therewere Santiago's Lares, and if we use this word, it is because themaster of the house was rather a poly- than a monotheist. Here, insculpture and oils, were saints, martyrdoms, and miracles; a chaptercould scarcely enumerate them all. Before these images Santiago burnedhis candles and made his requests known. 

That he was at peace with the Government, however difficult theproblem, could not be doubted either. Incapable of a new idea, andcontented with his lot, he was disposed to obey even to the lowestfunctionary, and to offer him capons, hams, and Chinese fruits at allseasons. If he heard the natives maligned, not considering himself one, he chimed in and said worse: one criticised the Chinese merchants orthe Spaniards, he, who thought himself pure Iberian, did it too. He wasfor two years gobernadorcillo of the rich association of half-breeds, in the face of protestations from many who considered him a native. Theimpious called him fool; the poor, pitiless and cruel; his inferiors, a tyrant. 

As to his past, he was the only son of a rich sugar merchant, who diedwhen Santiago was still at school. He had then to quit his studiesand give himself to business. He married a young girl of Santa Cruz, who brought him social rank and helped his fortunes. 

The absence of an heir in the first six years of marriage made CaptainTiago's thirst for riches almost blameworthy. In vain all this timedid Doña Pia make novenas and pilgrimages and scatter alms. But atlength she was to become a mother. Alas! like Shakespeare's fishermanwho lost his songs when he found a treasure, she never smiled again, and died, leaving a beautiful baby girl, whom Brother Dámaso presentedat the font. The child was called Maria Clara. 

Maria Clara grew, thanks to the care of good Aunt Isabel. Hereyes, like her mother's, were large, black, and shaded by longlashes; sparkling and mirthful when she laughed; when she did not, thoughtful and profound, even sad. Her curly hair was almost blond, her nose perfect; and her mouth, small and sweet like her mother's, was flanked by charming dimples. The little thing, idol of every one, lived amid smiles and love. The monks fêted her. They dressed herin white for their processions, mingled jasmine and lilies in herhair, gave her little silver wings, and in her hands blue ribbons, the reins of fluttering white doves. She was so joyous, had such acandid baby speech, that Captain Tiago, enraptured with her, passedhis time in blessing the saints. 

In the lands of the sun, at thirteen or fourteen, the child becomes awoman. At this age full of mysteries, Maria Clara entered the conventof Santa Catalina, to remain several years. With tears she parted fromthe sole companion of her childish games, Crisóstomo Ibarra, who inturn was soon to leave his home. Some years after his departure, DonRafael and Captain Tiago, knowing the inclinations of their children, agreed upon their marriage. This arrangement was received with eagerjoy by two hearts beating at two extremities of the world. 

VII. 

IDYLLE. 

The sky was blue. A fresh breeze stirred the leaves and shook thenodding "angels' heads, " the aerial plants, and the many otheradornments of the terrace. Maria and Crisóstomo were there, alonetogether for the first time since his return. They began with charmingfutilities, so sweet to those who understand, so meaningless toothers. She is sister to Cain, a little jealous; she says to her lover:"Did you never forget me among the many beautiful women you have seen?"

He too, he is brother to Cain, a bit subtle. 

"Could I ever forget you!" he answered, gazing into the darkeyes. "Your remembrance made powerless that lotus flower, Europe, which steeps out of the memory of many of my countrymen the hopes andwrongs of our land. It seemed as if the spirit, the poetic incarnationof my country was you, frank and lovely daughter of the Philippines! Mylove for you and that for her fused in one. "

"I know only your pueblo, Manila and Antipolo, " replied the young girl, radiant; "but I have always thought of you, and though my confessorcommanded it, I was never able to forget you. I used to think overall our childish plays and quarrels. Do you remember the day you werereally angry? Your mother had taken us to wade in the brook, behindthe reeds. You put a crown of orange flowers on my head and called meChloe. But your mother took the flowers and ground them with a stone, to mix with gogo, for washing our hair. You cried. 'Stupid, ' said she, 'you shall see how good your hair smells!' I laughed; at that youwere angry and wouldn't speak to me, while I wanted to cry. On theway home, when the sun was very hot, I picked some sage leaves foryour head. You smiled your thanks, and we were friends again. "

Ibarra opened his pocketbook and took out a paper in which were someleaves, blackened and dry, but fragrant still. 

"Your sage leaves, " he replied to her questioning look. 

In her turn, she drew out a little white satin purse. 

"Hands off!" as he reached out for it, "there's a letter in it!"

"My letter of good-by?"

"Have you written me any others, señor mio?"

"What is in it?"

"Lots of fibs, excuses of a bad debtor, " she laughed. "If you're good Iwill read it to you, suppressing the gallantries, though, so you won'tsuffer too much. " And lifting the paper to hide her face, she began:

"'My----' I'll not read what follows, because it's a fib"; and sheran her eyes over several lines. "In spite of my prayers, I mustgo. 'You are no longer a boy, ' my father said, 'you must think of thefuture. You have to learn things your own country cannot teach you, ifyou would be useful to her some day. What, almost a man and I see youin tears?' Upon that I confessed my love for you. He was silent, thenplacing his hand on my shoulder he said in a voice full of emotion:'Do you think you alone know how to love; that it costs your fathernothing to let you go away from him? It is not long since we lost yourmother, and I am growing old, yet I accept my solitude and run the riskof never seeing you again. For you the future opens, for me it shuts;the fire of youth is yours, frost touches me, and it is you who weep, you who do not know how to sacrifice the present to a to-morrow goodfor you and for your country. "

Ibarra's agitation stopped the reading; he had become very pale andwas walking back and forth. 

"What is it? You are ill!" cried Maria, going toward him. 

"With you I have forgotten my duty; I should be on my way to thepueblo. To-morrow is the Feast of the Dead. "

Maria was silent. She fixed on him her great, thoughtful eyes, thenturned to pick some flowers. 

"Go, " she said, and her voice was deep and sweet; "I keep you nolonger. In a few days we shall see each other again. Put these flowerson your father's grave. "

A little later, Captain Tiago found Maria in the chapel, at the foot ofa statue of the Virgin, weeping. "Come, come, " said he, to console her;"burn some candles to St. Roch and St. Michael, patrons of travellers, for the tulisanes are numerous: better spend four réales for wax thanpay a ransom. "

VIII. 

REMINISCENCES. 

Ibarra's carriage was crossing one of the most animated quarters ofManila. The street life that had saddened him the night before, now, in spite of his sorrow, made him smile. Everything awakened a worldof sleeping recollections. 

These streets were not yet paved, so if the sun shone two dayscontinuously, they turned to powder which covered everything. Butlet it rain a day, you had a mire, reflecting at night the shiftinglamps of the carriages and bespattering the foot-passengers on thenarrow walks. How many women had lost their embroidered slippers inthese muddy waves!

The good and honorable pontoon bridge, so characteristically Filipino, doing its best to be useful in spite of natural faults, and risingor falling with the caprices of the Pasig, --that brave bridge was nomore. The new Spanish bridge drew Ibarra's attention. Carriages passedcontinuously, drawn by groups of dwarf horses, in splendid harness. Inthese sat at ease government clerks going to their bureaus, officers, Chinese, self-satisfied and ridiculously grave monks, canons. In anelegant victoria, Ibarra thought he recognized Father Dámaso, deepin thought. From an open carriage, where his wife and two daughtersaccompanied him, Captain Tinong waved a friendly greeting. 

Then came the Botanical Gardens, then old Manila, still enclosed in itsditches and walls; beyond that the sea; beyond that, Europe, thoughtIbarra. But the little hill of Bagumbayan drove away all fancies. Heremembered the man who had opened the eyes of his intelligence, taught him to find out the true and the just. It was an old priest, and the holy man had died there, on that field of execution!

To these thoughts he replied by murmuring: "No, after all, firstthe country, first the Philippines, daughters of Spain, first theSpanish home-land!"

His carriage rolled on. It passed a cart drawn by two horses whosehempen harness told of the back country. Sometimes there sounded theslow and heavy tread of a pensive carabao, drawing a great tumbrel;its conductor, on his buffalo skin, accompanying, with a monotonous andmelancholy chant, the strident creaking of the wheels. Sometimes therewas the dull sound of a native sledge's worn runners. In the fieldsgrazed the herds, and among them white herons gravely promenaded, orsat tranquil on the backs of sleepy oxen beatifically chewing theircuds of prairie grass. Let us leave the young man, wholly occupiednow with his thoughts. The sun which makes the tree-tops burn, andsends the peasants running, when they feel the hot ground throughtheir thick shoes; the sun which halts the countrywoman under a clumpof great reeds, and makes her think of things vague and strange--thatsun has no enchantment for him. 

While the carriage, staggering like a drunken man over the unevenground, passes a bamboo bridge, mounts a rough hillside or descendsits steep slope, let us return to Manila. 

IX. 

AFFAIRS OF THE COUNTRY. 

Ibarra had not been mistaken. It was indeed Father Dámaso he had seen, on his way to the house which he himself had just left. 

Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel were entering their carriage when the monkarrived. "Where are you going?" he asked, and in his preoccupationhe gently tapped the young girl's cheek. 

"To the convent to get my things, " said she. 

"Ah! ah! well, well! we shall see who is the stronger, we shallsee!" he murmured, as he left the two women somewhat surprised andwent up the steps. 

"He's probably committing his sermon, " said Aunt Isabel. "Come, we are late!"

We cannot say whether Father Dámaso was committing a sermon, but hemust have been absorbed in important things, for he did not offerhis hand to Captain Tiago. 

"Santiago, " he said, "we must have a serious talk. Come into youroffice. "

Captain Tiago felt uneasy. He answered nothing, but followed thegigantic priest, who closed the door behind them. 

While they talk, let us see what has become of Father Sibyla. 

The learned Dominican, his mass once said, had set out for theconvent of his order, which stands at the entrance to the city, near the gate bearing alternately, according to the family reigningat Madrid, the name of Magellan or Isabella II. 

Brother Sibyla entered, crossed several halls, and knocked at a door. 

"Come in, " said a faint voice. 

"God give health to your reverence, " said the young Dominican, entering. Seated in a great armchair was an old priest, meagre, jaundiced, like Rivera's saints. His eyes, deep-sunken in theirorbits, were arched with heavy brows, intensifying the flashes oftheir dying light. 

Brother Sibyla was moved. He inclined his head, and seemed to wait. 

"Ah!" gasped the sick man, "they recommend an operation! An operationat my age! Oh, this country, this terrible country! You see what itdoes for all of us, Hernando!"

"And what has your reverence decided?"

"To die! Could I do otherwise? I suffer too much, but--I've madeothers suffer. I'm paying my debt. And you? How are you? What do youbring me?"

"I came to talk of the mission you gave me. "

"Ah! and what is there to say?"

"They've told us fairy tales, " answered Brother Sibyla wearily. "YoungIbarra seems a sensible fellow. He is not stupid at all, and thoroughlymanly. "

"Is it so!"

"Hostilities began yesterday. "

"Ah! and how?"

Brother Sibyla briefly recounted what had passed between BrotherDámaso and Crisóstomo. 

"Besides, " he said in conclusion, "the young man is going to marrythe daughter of Captain Tiago, who was educated at the convent ofour sisters. He is rich; he would not go about making himself enemiesand compromise at once his happiness and his fortune. "

The sick man moved his hand in sign of assent. 

"Yes, you are right. He should be ours, body and soul. But if hedeclare himself our enemy, so much the better!"

Brother Sibyla looked at the old man in surprise. 

"For the good of our sacred order, you understand, " he added, breathingwith difficulty; "I prefer attack to the flatteries and adulationsof friends; besides, those are bought. "

"Your reverence believes that?"

The old man looked at him sadly. 

"Remember this well, " he went on, catching his breath; "our power lastsas long as it's believed in. If we're attacked, the Government reasons:'They are assailed because in them is seen an obstacle to liberty:therefore we must support them!'"

"But if the Government should listen to our enemies, if it shouldcome to covet what we have amassed--if there should be a man hardyenough----"

"Ah! then beware!"

Both were silent. 

"And too, " the sick man continued, "we have need of attack to showus our faults and make us better them. Too much flattery deceivesus; we sleep; and more, it makes us ridiculous, and the day webecome ridiculous we fall as we have fallen in Europe. Money will nolonger come to our churches. No one will buy scapulary, penitentialcords, anything; and when we cease to be rich, we can no longerconvince the conscience. And the worst is, that we're working our owndestruction. For one thing, this immoderate thirst for gain, which I'vecombated in vain in all our chapters, this thirst will be our ruin. Ifear we are already declining. God blinds whom He will destroy. "

"We shall always have our lands. "

"But every year we raise their price, and force the Indian to buy ofothers. The people are beginning to murmur. We ought not to increasethe burdens we've already laid on their shoulders. "

"So your reverence believes that the revenues----"

"Talk no more of money, " interrupted the old man with aversion. "Yousay the lieutenant threatened Father Dámaso?"

"Yes, Father, " replied Sibyla, half smiling; "but this morning hetold me the sherry had mounted to his head, and he thought it musthave been the same with Brother Dámaso. 'And your threat?' I askedjestingly. 'Father, ' said he, 'I know how to keep my word when itdoesn't smirch my honor; I was never an informer--and that's why Iam only a lieutenant. '"

Though the lieutenant had not carried out his threat to go toMalacañang, the captain-general none the less knew what had happened. Ayoung officer told the story. 

"From whom do you have it?" demanded His Excellency, smiling. 

"From De Laruja. "

The captain-general smiled again, and added:

"Woman's tongue, monk's tongue doesn't wound. I don't wish to getentangled with these men in skirts. Besides, the provincial madelight of my orders; to punish this priest I demanded that his parishbe changed. Well, they gave him a better. Monkishness! as we sayin Spain. "

Alone, His Excellency ceased to smile. 

"Oh! if the people were not so dense, how easy to bridle theirreverences! But every nation merits its lot!"

Meanwhile Captain Tiago finished his conference with Father Dámaso. 

"And now you are warned, " said the Franciscan upon leaving. "Thiswould have been avoided if you hadn't equivocated when I asked youhow the matter stood. Don't make any more false moves, and trusther godfather. "

Captain Tiago took two or three turns about the room, reflectingand sighing. Then suddenly, as if a happy thought had struck him, running to the oratory, he extinguished the two candles lighted forthe safeguard of Ibarra. 

X. 

THE PUEBLO. 

Almost on the banks of the lake, in the midst of meadows and streams, is the pueblo of San Diego. It exports sugar, rice, coffee, andfruits, or sells these articles of merchandise at low prices toChinese traders. 

When, on a clear day, the children climb to the top stageof the moss-grown and vine-clad church tower, there are joyousexclamations. Each picks out his own little roof of nipa, tile, zinc, or palm. Beyond they see the rio, a monstrous crystal serpent asleepon a carpet of green. Trunks of palm trees, dipping and swaying, jointhe two banks, and if, as bridges, they leave much to be desired fortrembling old men and poor women who must cross with heavy basketson their heads, on the other hand they make fine gymnastic apparatusfor the young. 

But what besides the rio the children never fail to talk about is acertain wooded peninsula in this sea of cultivated land. Its ancienttrees never die, unless the lightning strikes their high tops. Dustgathers layer on layer in their hollow trunks, the rain makes soil ofit, the birds bring seeds, a tropical vegetation grows there in wildfreedom: bushes, briers, curtains of netted bind-weed, spring fromthe roots, reach from tree to tree, hang swaying from the branches, and Flora, as if yet unsatisfied, sows on the trees themselves; mossesand fungi live on the creased bark, and graceful aerial guests piercewith their tendrils the hospitable branches. 

This wood is the subject of a legend. 

When the pueblo was but a group of poor cabins, there arrived oneday a strange old Spaniard with marvellous eyes, who scarcely spokethe Tagal. He wished to buy lands having thermal springs, and didso, paying in money, dress, and jewelry. Suddenly he disappeared, leaving no trace. The people of the pueblo had begun to think of himas a magician, when one day his body was found hanging high to thebranch of a giant fig tree. After it had been buried at the foot ofthe tree, no one cared much to venture in that quarter. 

A few months later there arrived a young Spanish halfbreed, whoclaimed to be the old man's son. He settled, and gave himself toagriculture. Don Saturnino was taciturn and of violent temper, but very industrious. Late in life he married a woman of Manila, who bore him Don Rafael, the father of Crisóstomo. 

Don Rafael, from his youth, was much beloved. He rapidly developedhis father's lands, the population multiplied, the Chinese came, thehamlet grew to a pueblo, the native curate died and was replaced byFather Dámaso. And all this time the people respected the sepulchreof the old Spaniard, and held it in superstitious awe. Sometimes, armed with sticks and stones, the children dared run near it to gatherwild fruits; but while they were busy at this, or stood gazing atthe bit of rope still dangling from the limb, a stone or two wouldfall from no one knew where. Then with cries of "The old man! theold man!" they threw down sticks and fruit, ran in all directions, between the rocks and bushes, and did not stop till they were out ofthe woods, all pale and breathless, some crying, few daring to laugh. 

XI. 

THE SOVEREIGNS. 

Who was the ruler of the pueblo? Not Don Rafael during his lifetime, though he possessed the most land, and nearly every one owed him. Ashe was modest, and gave little value to his deeds, no party formedaround him, and we have seen how he was deserted and attacked whenhis fortunes fell. 

Was it Captain Tiago? It is true his arrival was always heralded withmusic, he was given banquets by his debtors, and loaded with presents;but he was laughed at in secret, and called Sacristan Tiago. 

Was it by chance the town mayor, the gobernadorcillo? Alas! he wasan unfortunate, who governed not, but obeyed; did not dispose, butwas disposed of. And yet he had to answer to the alcalde for allthese dispositions, as if they emanated from his own brain. Be itsaid in his favor that he had neither stolen nor usurped his honors, but that they cost him five thousand pesos and much humiliation. 

Perhaps then it was God? But to most of these good people, God seemedone of those poor kings surrounded by favorites to whom their subjectsalways take their supplications, never to them. 

No, San Diego was a sort of modern Rome. The curate was the popeat the Vatican; the alférez of the civil guard, the King in theQuirinal. Here as there, difficulties arose from the situation. 

The present curate, Brother Bernardo Salvi, was the young and silentFranciscan we have already seen. In mode of life and in appearancehe was very unlike his predecessor, Brother Dámaso. He seemed ill, was always thoughtful, accomplished strictly his religious duties, and was careful of his reputation. Through his zeal, almost allhis parishioners had speedily become members of the Third Order ofSt. Francis, to the great dismay of the rival order, that of the HolyRosary. Four or five scapularies were suspended around every neck, knotted cords encircled all the waists, and the innumerable processionsof the order were a joy to see. The head sacristan took in a smallfortune, selling--or giving as alms, to put it more correctly--allthe paraphernalia necessary to save the soul and combat the devil. Itis well known that this evil spirit, who once dared attack God faceto face, and accuse His divine word, as the book of Job tells us, is now so cowardly and feeble that he flees at sight of a bit ofpainted cloth, and fears a knotted cord. 

Brother Salvi again greatly differed from Brother Dámaso--who seteverything right with fists or ferrule, believing it the only way toreach the Indian--in that he punished with fines the faults of hissubordinates, rarely striking them. 

From his struggles with the curate, the alférez had a bad reputationamong the devout, which he deserved, and shared with his wife, a hideous and vile old Filipino woman named Doña Consolacion. Thehusband avenged his conjugal woes on himself by drinking like a fish;on his subordinates, by making them exercise in the sun; and mostfrequently on his wife, by kicks and drubbings. The two fought famouslybetween themselves, but were of one mind when it was a question ofthe curate. Inspired by his wife, the officer ordered that no onebe abroad in the streets after nine at night. The priest, who didnot like this restriction, retorted in lengthy sermons, wheneverthe alférez went to church. Like all impenitents, the alférez didnot mend his ways for that, but went out swearing under his breath, arrested the first sacristan he met, and made him clean the yard ofthe barracks. So the war went on. All this, however, did not preventthe alférez and the curate chatting courteously enough when they met. 

And they were the rulers of the pueblo of San Diego. 

XII. 

ALL SAINTS' DAY. 

The cemetery of San Diego is in the midst of rice-fields. It isapproached by a narrow path, powdery on sunny days, navigable onrainy. A wooden gate and a wall half stone, half bamboo stalks, succeed in keeping out men, but not the curate's goats, nor thepigs of his neighbors. In the middle of the enclosure is a stonepedestal supporting a great wooden cross. Storms have bent the stripof tin on which were the I. N. R. I. , and the rain has washed offthe letters. At the foot of the cross is a confused heap of bonesand skulls thrown out by the grave-digger. Everywhere grow in alltheir vigor the bitter-sweet and rose-bay. Some tiny flowerets, too, tint the ground--blossoms which, like the mounded bones, are known totheir Creator only. They are like little pale smiles, and their odorscents of the tomb. Grass and climbing plants fill the corners, coverthe walls, adorning this otherwise bare ugliness; they even penetratethe tombs, through earthquake fissures, and fill their yawning gaps. 

At this hour two men are digging near the crumbling wall. One, thegrave-digger, works with the utmost indifference, throwing asidea skull as a gardener would a stone. The other is preoccupied; heperspires, he breathes hard. 

"Oh!" he says at length in Tagalo. "Hadn't we better dig in someother place? This grave is too recent. "

"All the graves are the same, one is as recent as another. "

"I can't endure this!"

"What a woman! You should go and be a clerk! If you had dug up, as I did, a boy of twenty days, at night, in the rain----"

"Uh-h-h! And why did you do that?"

The grave-digger seemed surprised. 

"Why? How do I know, I was ordered to. "

"Who ordered you?"

At this question the grave-digger straightened himself, and examinedthe rash young man from head to foot. 

"Come! come! You're curious as a Spaniard. A Spaniard asked me thesame question, but in secret. I'm going to say to you what I said tohim: the curate ordered it. "

"Oh! and what did you do with the body?"

"The devil! if I didn't know you, I should take you for the police. Thecurate told me to bury it in the Chinese cemetery, but it's a long waythere, and the body was heavy. 'Better be drowned, ' I said to myself, 'than lie with the Chinese, ' and I threw it into the lake. "

"No, no, stop digging!" interrupted the younger man, with a cry ofhorror, and throwing down his spade he sprang out of the grave. 

The grave-digger watched him run off signing himself, laughed, andwent to work again. 

The cemetery began to fill with men and women in mourning. Someof them came for a moment to the open grave, discussed some matter, seemed not to be agreed, and separated, kneeling here and there. Otherswere lighting candles; all began to pray devoutly. One heard sighingand sobs, and over all a confused murmur of "requiem æternam. "

A little old man, with piercing eyes, entered uncovered. At sightof him some laughed, others frowned. The old man seemed to take noaccount of this. He went to the heap of skulls, knelt, and searchedwith his eyes. Then with the greatest care he lifted the skulls oneby one, wrinkling his brows, shaking his head, and looking on allsides. At length he rose and approached the grave-digger. 

"Ho!" said he. 

The other raised his eyes. 

"Did you see a beautiful skull, white as the inside of a cocoanut?"

The grave-digger shrugged his shoulders. 

"Look, " said the old man, showing a piece of money; "it's all I have, but I'll give it to you if you find it. "

The gleam of silver made the man reflect. He looked toward the heapand said:

"It isn't there? No? Then I don't know where it is. "

"You don't know? When those who owe me pay, I'll give you more. 'Twasthe skull of my wife, and if you find it----"

"It isn't there? Then I know nothing about it, but I can give youanother. "

"You are like the grave you dig, " cried the old man, furious. "Youknow not the value of what you destroy! For whom is this grave?"

"How do I know? For a dead man!" replied the other with temper. 

"Like the grave, like the grave, " the old man repeated witha dry laugh. "You know neither what you cast out nor what youkeep. Dig! dig!" And he went toward the gate. 

Meanwhile the grave-digger had finished his task, and two mounds offresh, reddish earth rose beside the grave. Drawing from his pocketsome buyo, he regarded dully what was going on around him, sat down, and began to chew. 

At that moment a carriage, which had apparently made a long journey, stopped at the entrance to the cemetery. Ibarra got out, followed byan old servant, and silently made his way along the path. 

"It is there, behind the great cross, señor, " said the servant, as they approached the spot where the grave-digger was sitting. 

Arrived at the cross, the old servant looked on all sides, and becamegreatly confused. "It was there, " he muttered; "no, there, but theground has been broken. "

Ibarra looked at him in anguish. 

The servant appealed to the grave-digger. 

"Where is the grave that was marked with a cross like this?" hedemanded; and stooping, he traced a Byzantine cross on the ground. 

"Were there flowers growing on it?"

"Yes, jasmine and pansies. "

The grave-digger scratched his ear and said with a yawn:

"Well, the cross I burned. "

"Burned! and why?"

"Because the curate ordered it. "

Ibarra drew his hand across his forehead. 

"But at least you can show us the grave. "

"The body's no longer there, " said the grave-digger calmly. 

"What are you saying!"

"Yes, " the man went on, with a smile, "I put a woman in its place, eight days ago. "

"Are you mad?" cried the servant; "it isn't a year since he wasburied. "

"Father Dámaso ordered it; he told me to take the body to the Chinesecemetery; I----"

He got no farther, and started back in terror at sight of Crisóstomo'sface. Crisóstomo seized his arm. "And you did it?" he demanded, in a terrible voice. 

"Don't be angry, señor, " replied the grave-digger, pale andtrembling. "I didn't bury him with the Chinese. Better be drownedthan that, I thought to myself, and I threw him into the water. "

Ibarra stared at him like a madman. "You're only a poor fool!" hesaid at length, and pushing him away, he rushed headlong for thegate, stumbling over graves and bones, and painfully followed by theold servant. 

"That's what the dead bring us, " grumbled the gravedigger. "The curateorders me to dig the man up, and this fellow breaks my arm for doingit. That's the way with the Spaniards. I shall lose my place!"

XIII. 

THE LITTLE SACRISTANS. 

The little old man of the cemetery wandered absent-minded alongthe streets. 

He was a character of the pueblo. He had once been a student inphilosophy, but abandoned his course at the demands of his mother. Thegood woman, finding that her son had talent, feared lest he become asavant and forget God; she let him choose, therefore, between studyingfor the priesthood and leaving the college of San José. He was in love, took the latter course, and married. Widowed and orphaned within ayear, he found in books a deliverance from sadness, idleness, andthe gallera. Unhappily he studied too much, bought too many books, neglected to care for his fortune, and came to financial ruin. Somepeople called him Don Astasio, or Tasio the philosopher; others, and by far the greater number, Tasio the fool. 

The afternoon threatened a tempest. Pale flashes of lightning illuminedthe leaden sky; the atmosphere was heavy and close. 

Arrived at the church door, Tasio entered and spoke to two little boys, one ten years old perhaps, the other seven. 

"Coming with me?" he asked. "Your mother has ready a dinner fitfor curates. "

"The head sacristan won't let us leave yet, " said the elder. "We'regoing into the tower to ring the bells. "

"Take care! don't go too near the bells in the storm, " said Tasio, and, head down, he went off, thinking, toward the outskirts of the town. 

Soon the rain came down in torrents, the thunder echoed clap on clap, each detonation preceded by an awful zig-zag of fire. The tempestgrew in fury, and, scarce able to ride on the shifting wind, theplaintive voices of the bells rang out a lamentation. 

The boys were in the tower, the younger, timid, in spite of his greatblack eyes, hugging close to his brother. They resembled one another, but the elder had the stronger and more thoughtful face. Their dresswas poor, patched, and darned. The wind beat in the rain a little, where they were, and set the flame of their candle dancing. 

"Pull your rope, Crispin, " said the elder to his little brother. 

Crispin pulled, and heard a feeble plaint, quickly silenced bya thunder crash. "If we were only home with mama, " he mourned, "I shouldn't be afraid. "

The other did not answer. He watched the candle melt, and seemedthoughtful. 

"At least, no one there would call me a thief; mama would not haveit. If she knew they had beaten me----" The elder gave the great corda sharp pull; a deep, sonorous tone trembled out. 

"Pay what they say I stole! Pay it, brother!"

"Are you mad, Crispin? Mama would have nothing to eat; they say youstole two onces, and two onces make thirty-two pesos. "

The little fellow counted thirty-two on his fingers. 

"Six hands and two fingers. And each finger makes a peso, and eachpeso how many cuartos?"

"A hundred sixty. "

"And how much is a hundred sixty?"

"Thirty-two hands. "

Crispin regarded his little paws. 

"Thirty-two hands, " he said, "and each finger a cuarto! O mama! howmany cuartos! and with them one could buy shoes, and a hat for the sun, and an umbrella for the rain, and clothes for mama. "

Crispin became pensive. 

"What I'm afraid of is that mama will be angry with you when shehears about it. "

"You think so?" said Crispin, surprised. "But I've never had a cuartoexcept the one they gave me at Easter. Mama won't believe I stole;she won't believe it!"

"But if the curate says so----"

Crispin began to cry, and said through his sobs:

"Then go alone, I won't go. Tell mama I'm sick. "

"Crispin, don't cry, " said his brother. "If mama seems to believe whatthey say, you'll tell her that the sacristan lies, that the curatebelieves him, that they say we are thieves because our father----"

A head came out of the shadows in the little stairway, and as if ithad been Medusa's, it froze the words on the children's lips. 

The head was long and lean, with a shock of black hair. Blue glassesconcealed one sightless eye. It was the chief sacristan who had thusstolen upon the children. 

"You, Basilio, are fined two réales for not ringing regularly. And you, Crispin, stay to-night till you find what you've stolen. "

"We have permission, " began Basilio; "our mother expects us at nine. "

"You won't go at nine o'clock either; you shall stay till ten. "

"But, señor, after nine one can't pass through the streets----"

"Are you trying to dictate to me?" demanded the sacristan, and heseized Crispin's arm. 

"Señor, we have not seen our mother for a week, " entreated Basilio, taking hold of his brother as if to protect him. 

With a stroke on the cheek the sacristan made him let go, and draggedoff Crispin, who commenced to cry, let himself fall, tried to clingto the floor, and besought Basilio to keep him. But the sacristan, dragging the child, disappeared in the shadows. 

Basilio stood mute. He heard his little brother's body strikeagainst the stairs; he heard a cry, blows, heart-rending words, growing fainter and fainter, lost at last in the distance. 

"When shall I be strong enough?" he murmured, and dashed down thestairs. 

He reached the choir and listened. He could still hear his littlebrother's voice; then over the cry, "Mama!--Brother!" a doorshut. Trembling, damp with sweat, holding his mouth with his hand tostifle a cry, he stood a moment looking about in the dim church. Thedoors were closed, the windows barred. He went back to the tower, didnot stop at the second stage, where the bells were rung, but climbedto the third, loosed the ropes that held the tongues of the bells, then went down again, pale, his eyes gleaming, but without tears. 

The rain commenced to slacken and the sky to clear. Basilio knottedthe ropes, fastened an end to a beam of the balcony, and, forgettingto blow out the candle, glided down into the darkness. 

Some minutes later voices were heard in a street of the pueblo, and two rifle shots rang out; but it raised no alarm, and all againbecame silent. 

XIV. 

SISA. 

Nearly an hour's walk from the pueblo lived the mother of Basilio andCrispin, wife of a man who passed his time in lounging or watchingcock-fights while she struggled to bring up their children. Thehusband and wife saw each other rarely, and their interviews werepainful. To feed his vices, he had robbed her of her few trinkets, and when the unhappy Sisa had nothing more with which to satisfyhis caprices he began to abuse her. Without much strength of will, dowered with more heart than reason, she only knew how to loveand to weep. Her husband was a god, her children were angels. He, who knew how much he was adored and feared, like other false gods, grew more and more arbitrary and cruel. 

The stars were glittering in the sky cleared by the tempest. Sisasat on the wooden bench, her chin in her hand, watching some branchessmoulder on her hearth of uncut stones. On these stones was a littlepan where rice was cooking, and among the cinders were three drysardines. 

She was still young, and one saw she had been beautiful. Her eyes, which, with her soul, she had given to her sons, were fine, deep, and fringed with dark lashes; her face was regular; her skin pureolive. In spite of her youth, suffering, hunger sometimes, had begunto hollow her cheeks. Her abundant hair, once her glory, was stillcarefully dressed--but from habit, not coquetry. 

All day Sisa had been thinking of the pleasure coming at night. Shepicked the finest tomatoes in her garden--favorite dish of littleCrispin; from her neighbor, Tasio, she got a fillet of wild boar anda wild duck's thigh for Basilio, and she chose and cooked the whitestrice on the threshing-floor. 

Alas! the father arrived. Good-by to the dinner! He ate the rice, the filet of wild boar, the duck's thigh, and the tomatoes. Sisa saidnothing, happy to see her husband satisfied, and so much happierthat, having eaten, he remembered he had children and asked wherethey were. The poor mother smiled. She had promised herself to eatnothing--there was not enough left for three; but the father hadthought of his sons, that was better than food. 

Sisa, left alone, wept a little; but she thought of her children, and dried her tears. She cooked the little rice she had left, andthe three sardines. 

Attentive to every sound, she now sat listening: a footfall strongand regular, it was Basilio's; light and unsteady, Crispin's. 

But the children did not come. 

To pass the time, she hummed a song. Her voice was beautiful, and whenher children heard her sing "Kundiman" they cried, without knowingwhy. To-night her voice trembled, and the notes came tardily. 

She went to the door and scanned the road. A black dog was there, searching about. It frightened Sisa, and she threw a stone, sendingthe dog off howling. 

Sisa was not superstitious, but she had so often heard of black dogsand presentiments that terror seized her. She shut the door in hasteand sat down by the light. She prayed to the Virgin, to God Himself, to take care of her boys, and most for the little Crispin. Then, drawnaway from prayer by her sole preoccupation, she thought no longerof aught but her children, of all their ways, which seemed to her sopleasing. Then the terror returned. Vision or reality, Crispin stoodby the hearth, where he often sat to chatter to her. He said nothing, but looked at her with great, pensive eyes, and smiled. 

"Mother, open! Open the door, mother!" said Basilio's voice outside. 

Sisa shuddered, and the vision disappeared. 

XV. 

BASILIO. 

Life is a Dream. 

Basilio had scarcely strength to enter and fall into his mother'sarms. A strange cold enveloped Sisa when she saw him come alone. Shewished to speak, but found no words; to caress her son, but foundno force. Yet at the sight of blood on his forehead, her voice came, and she cried in a tone which seemed to tell of a breaking heartstring:

"My children!"

"Don't be frightened, mama; Crispin stayed at the convent. "

"At the convent? He stayed at the convent? Living?"

The child raised his eyes to hers. 

"Ah!" she cried, passing from the greatest anguish to the utmostjoy. She wept, embraced her child, covered with kisses his woundedforehead. 

"And why are you hurt, my son? Did you fall?"

Basilio told her he had been challenged by the guard, ran, was shotat, and a ball had grazed his forehead. 

"O God! I thank Thee that Thou didst save him!" murmured the mother. 

She went for lint and vinegar water, and while she bandaged his wound:

"Why, " she asked, "did Crispin stay at the convent?"

Basilio looked at her, kissed her, then little by little told thestory of the lost money; he said nothing of the torture of his littlebrother. Mother and child mingled their tears. 

"Accuse my good Crispin! It's because we are poor, and the poor mustbear everything, " murmured Sisa. Both were silent a moment. 

"But you have not eaten, " said the mother. "Here are sardines andrice. "

"I'm not hungry, mama; I only want some water. "

"Yes, eat, " said the mother. "I know you don't like dry sardines, and I had something else for you; but your father came, my poor child. "

"My father came?" and Basilio instinctively examined his mother'sface and hands. 

The question pained the mother; she sighed. 

"You won't eat? Then we must go to bed; it is late. "

Sisa barred the door and covered the fire. Basilio murmured hisprayers, and crept on the mat near his mother, who was still on herknees. She was warm, he was cold. He thought of his little brother, who had hoped to sleep this night close to his mother's side, tremblingwith fear in some dark corner of the convent. He heard his cries ashe had heard them in the tower; but Nature soon confused his ideasand he slept. 

In the middle of the night Sisa wakened him. 

"What is it, Basilio? Why are you crying?"

"I was dreaming. O mama! it was a dream, wasn't it? Say it was nothingbut a dream!"

"What were you dreaming?"

He did not answer, but sat up to dry his tears. 

"Tell me the dream, " said Sisa, when he had lain down again. "Icannot sleep. "

"It is gone now, mama; I don't remember it all. "

Sisa did not insist: she attached no importance to dreams. 

"Mama, " said Basilio after a moment of silence, "I'm not sleepyeither. I had a project last evening. I don't want to be a sacristan. "

"What?"

"Listen, mama. The son of Don Rafael came home from Spain to-day;he should be as kind as his father. Well, to-morrow I find Crispin, get my pay, and say I'm not going to be a sacristan. Then I'll gosee Don Crisóstomo and ask him to make me a buffalo-keeper. Crispincould go on studying with old Tasio. Tasio's better than the curatethinks; I've often seen him praying in the church when no one else wasthere. What shall I lose in not being a sacristan? One earns little andloses it all in fines. I'll be a herdsman, mama, and take good care ofthe cows and carabaos, and make my master love me; then perhaps he'lllet us have a cow to milk: Crispin loves milk. And I could fish in therivers and go hunting when I get big. And by and by perhaps I couldhave a little land and sow sugar-cane. We could all live together, then. And old Tasio says Crispin is very bright. By and by we wouldsend him to study at Manila, and I would work for him. Shall we, mama? He might be a doctor; what do you say?"

"What can I say, except that you are right, " answered Sisa, kissingher son. 

Basilio went on with his projects, talking with the confidence of achild. Sisa said yes to everything. But little by little sleep cameback to the child's lids, and this time he did not cry in his dreams:that Ole-Luk-Oie, of whom Andersen tells us, unfurled over his headthe umbrella with its lining of gay pictures. But the mother, pastthe age of careless slumbers, did not sleep. 

XVI. 

AT THE MANSE. 

It was seven o'clock when Brother Salvi finished his last mass. Hetook off his priestly robes without a word to any one. 

"Look out!" whispered the sacristans; "it is going to rain fines! Andall for the fault of those children!"

The father came out of the sacristy and crossed to the manse. On theporch six or seven women sat waiting for him, and a man was walkingto and fro. The woman rose, and one bent to kiss his hand, but thepriest made such a gesture of impatience that she stopped short. 

"He must have lost a real miser, " she cried mockingly, when he hadpassed. "This is something unheard of: refuse his hand to the zealousSister Rufa?"

"He was not in the confessional this morning, " said a toothlessold woman, Sister Sipa. "I wanted to confess, so as to get someindulgences. "

"I have gained three plenary indulgences, " said a young woman ofpleasing face, "and applied them all to the soul of my husband. "

"You have done wrong, " said Sister Rufa, "one plenary is enough;you should not squander the holy indulgences. Do as I do. "

"I said to myself, the more there are the better, " replied youngsister Juana, smiling; "but what do you do?"

Sister Rufa did not respond at once; she chewed her buyo, and scannedher audience attentively; at length she decided to speak. 

"Well, this is what I do. Suppose I gain a year of indulgences; I say:Blessed Señor Saint Dominic, have the kindness to see if there is someone in purgatory who has need of precisely a year. Then I play headsor tails. If it falls heads, no; if tails, yes. If it falls heads, I keep the indulgence, and so I make groups of a hundred years, forwhich there is always use. It's a pity one can't loan indulgences atinterest. But do as I do, it's the best plan. "

At this point Sisa appeared. She said good morning to the women, and entered the manse. 

"She's gone in, let us go too, " said the sisters, and they followedher. 

Sisa felt her heart beat violently. She did not know what to say to thecurate in defence of her child. She had risen at daybreak, picked allthe fine vegetables left in her garden, and arranged them in a basketwith platane leaves and flowers, and had been to the river to get afresh salad of pakô. Then, dressed in the best she had, the basketon her head, without waking her son, she had set out for the pueblo. 

She went slowly through the manse, listening if by chance she mighthear a well-known voice, fresh and childish. But she met no one, heard nothing, and went on to the kitchen. 

The servants and sacristans received her coldly, scarcely answeringher greetings. 

"Where may I put these vegetables?" she asked, without showing offence. 

"There--wherever you want to, " replied the cook curtly. 

Sisa, half-smiling, placed all in order on the table, and laid ontop the flowers and the tender shoots of the pakô; then she asked aservant who seemed more friendly than the cook:

"Do you know if Crispin is in the sacristy?"

The servant looked at her in surprise. 

"Crispin?" said he, wrinkling his brows; "isn't he at home?"

"Basilio is, but Crispin stayed here. "

"Oh, yes, he stayed, but he ran off afterward with all sorts of thingshe'd stolen. The curate sent me to report it at the quarters. Theguards must be on their way to your house by this time. "

Sisa could not believe it; she opened her mouth, but her lips movedin vain. 

"Go find your children, " said the cook. "Everybody sees you're afaithful woman; the children are like their father!"

Sisa stifled a sob, and, at the end of her strength, sat down. 

"Don't cry here, " said the cook still more roughly, "the curate is ill;don't bother him! Go cry in the street!"

The poor woman got up, almost by force, and went down the steps withthe sisters, who were still gossiping of the curate's illness. Onceon the street she looked about uncertain; then, as if from a suddenresolution, moved rapidly away. 

XVII. 

STORY OF A SCHOOLMASTER. 

The lake, girt with hills, lies tranquil, as if it had not beenshaken by yesterday's tempest. At the first gleam of light whichwakes the phosphorescent spirits of the water, almost on the boundsof the horizon, gray silhouettes slowly take shape. These are thebarks of fishermen drawing in their nets; cascos and paraos shakingout their sails. 

From a height, two men in black are silently surveying the lake. Oneis Ibarra, the other a young man of humble dress and melancholy face. 

"This is the place, " said the stranger, "where the gravedigger broughtus, Lieutenant Guevara and me. "

Ibarra uncovered, and stood a long time as if in prayer. 

When the first horror at the story of his father's desecrated gravehad passed, he had bravely accepted what could not be undone. Privatewrongs must go unavenged, if one would not add to the wrongs of thecountry: Ibarra had been trained to live for these islands, daughtersof Spain. In his country, too, a charge against a monk was a chargeagainst the Church, and Crisóstomo was a loyal Catholic; if he knewhow in his mind to separate the Church from her unworthy sons, most ofhis fellow-countrymen did not. And, again, his intimate life was allhere. The last of his race, his home was his family; he loved ideally, and he loved the goddaughter of the malevolent priest. He was rich, and therefore powerful still--and he was young. Ibarra had taken uphis life again as he had found it. 

His prayer finished, he warmly grasped the young man's hand. 

"Do not thank me, " said the other; "I owe everything to your father. Icame here unknown; your father protected me, encouraged my work, furnished the poor children with books. How far away that goodtime seems!"

"And now?"

"Ah! now we get along as best we can. "

Ibarra was silent. 

"How many pupils have you?"

"More than two hundred on the list--in the classes, fifty-five. "

"And how is that?"

The schoolmaster smiled sadly. 

"It is a long story. "

"Don't think I ask from curiosity, " said Ibarra. "I have thought muchabout it, and it seems to me better to try to carry out my father'sideas than to weep or to avenge his death. I wish to inspire myselfwith his spirit. That is why I ask this question. "

"The country will bless your memory, señor, if you carry out thesplendid projects of your father. You wish to know the obstacles Imeet? In a word, the plan of instruction is hopeless. The childrenread, write, learn by heart passages, sometimes whole books, inCastilian, without understanding a single word. Of what use is sucha school to the children of our peasants!"

"You see the evil, what remedy do you propose?"

"I have none, " said the young man; "one cannot struggle alone againstso many needs and against certain influences. I tried to remedythe evil of which I just spoke; I tried to carry out the orderof the Government, and began to teach the children Spanish. Thebeginning was excellent, but one day Brother Dámaso sent for me. Iwent up immediately, and I said good-day to him in Castilian. Withoutreplying, he burst into laughter. At length he said, with a sidelongglance: 'What buenos dias! buenos dias! It's very pretty. You knowSpanish?' and he began to laugh again. "

Ibarra could not repress a smile. 

"You laugh, " said the teacher, "and I, too, now; but I assure youI had no desire to then. I started to reply, I don't know what, but Brother Dámaso interrupted:

"'Don't wear clothes that are not your own, ' he said in Tagal; 'becontent to speak your own language. Do you know about Ciruela? Well, Ciruela was a master who could neither read nor write, yet he keptschool. ' And he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Whatwas I to do? What could I, against him, the highest authority of thepueblo, moral, political, and civil; backed by his order, feared by theGovernment, rich, powerful, always obeyed and believed. To withstandhim was to lose my place, and break off my career without hope ofanother. Every one would have sided with the priest. I should havebeen called proud, insolent, no Christian, perhaps even anti-Spanishand filibustero. Heaven forgive me if I denied my conscience and myreason, but I was born here, must live here, I have a mother, and Iabandoned myself to my fate, as a cadaver to the wave that rolls it. "

"And you lost all hope? You have tried nothing since?"

"I was rash enough to try two more experiments, one after our changeof curates; but both proved offensive to the same authority. Sincethen I have done my best to convert the poor babies into parrots. "

"Well, I have cheerful news for you, " said Ibarra. "I am soon topresent to the Government a project that will help you out of yourdifficulties, if it is approved. "

The school-teacher shook his head. 

"You will see, Señor Ibarra, that your projects--I've heard somethingof them--will no more be realized than were mine!"

XVIII. 

THE STORY OF A MOTHER. 

Sisa was running toward her poor little home. She had experiencedone of those convulsions of being which we know at the hour of agreat misfortune, when we see no possible refuge and all our hopestake flight. If then a ray of light illumine some little corner, we fly toward it without stopping to question. 

Sisa ran swiftly, pursued by many fears and dark presentiments. Hadthey already taken her Basilio? Where had her Crispin hidden?

As she neared her home, she saw two soldiers coming out of the littlegarden. She lifted her eyes to heaven; heaven was smiling in itsineffable light; little white clouds swam in the transparent blue. 

The soldiers had left her house; they were coming away without herchildren. Sisa breathed once more; her senses came back. 

She looked again, this time with grateful eyes, at the sky, furrowednow by a band of garzas, those clouds of airy gray peculiar tothe Philippines; confidence sprang again in her heart; she walkedon. Once past those dreadful men, she would have run, but prudencechecked her. She had not gone far, when she heard herself calledimperiously. She turned, pale and trembling in spite of herself. Oneof the guards beckoned her. 

Mechanically she obeyed: she felt her tongue grow paralyzed, herthroat parch. 

"Speak the truth, or we'll tie you to this tree and shoot you, "said one of the guards. 

Sisa could do nothing but look at the tree. 

"You are the mother of the thieves?"

"The mother of the thieves?" repeated Sisa, without comprehending. 

"Where is the money your sons brought home last night?"

"Ah! the money----"

"Give us the money, and we'll let you alone. "

"Señores, " said the unhappy woman, gathering her senses again, "my boys do not steal, even when they're hungry; we are used tosuffering. I have not seen my Crispin for a week, and Basilio didnot bring home a cuarto. Search the house, and if you find a réal, do what you will with us; the poor are not all thieves. "

"Well then, " said one of the soldiers, fixing his eyes on Sisa's, "follow us!"

"I--follow you?" And she drew back in terror, her eyes on the uniformsof the guards. "Oh, have pity on me! I'm very poor, I've nothing togive you, neither gold nor jewelry. Take everything you find in mymiserable cabin, but let me--let me--die here in peace!"

"March! do you hear? and if you don't go without making trouble, we'll tie your hands. "

"Let me walk a little way in front of you, at least, " she cried, as they laid hold of her. 

The soldiers spoke together apart. 

"Very well, " said one, "when we get to the pueblo, you may. March onnow, and quick!"

Poor Sisa thought she must die of shame. There was no one on theroad, it is true; but the air? and the light? She covered her face, in her humiliation, and wept silently. She was indeed very miserable;every one, even her husband, had abandoned her; but until now shehad always felt herself respected. 

As they neared the pueblo, fear seized her. In her agony she lookedon all sides, seeking some succor in nature--death in the river wouldbe so sweet. But no! She thought of her children; here was a lightin the darkness of her soul. 

"Afterward, " she said to herself, --"afterward, we will go to live inthe heart of the forest. "

She dried her eyes, and turning to the guards:

"We are at the pueblo, " she said. Her tone was indescribable; at oncea complaint, an argument, and a prayer. 

The soldiers took pity on her; they replied with a gesture. Sisa wentrapidly forward, then forced herself to walk tranquilly. 

A tolling of bells announced the end of the high mass. Sisa hastened, in the hope of avoiding the crowd from the church, but in vain. Twowomen she knew passed, looked at her questioningly; she bowed withan anguished smile, then, to avoid new mortifications, she fixed hereyes on the ground. 

At sight of her people turned, whispered, followed with their eyes, and though her eyes were turned away, she divined, she felt, shesaw it all. A woman who by her bare head, her dress, and her mannersshowed what she was, cried boldly to the soldiers:

"Where did you find her? Did you get the money?"

Sisa seemed to have taken a blow in the face. The ground gave wayunder her feet. 

"This way!" cried a guard. 

Like an automaton whose mechanism is broken she turned quickly, and, seeing nothing, feeling nothing but instinct, tried to hide herself. Agate was before her; she would have entered but a voice still moreimperious checked her. While she sought to find whence the voice came, she felt herself pushed along by the shoulders. She closed her eyes, took two steps, then her strength left her and she fell. 

It was the barracks. In the yard were soldiers, women, pigs, andchickens. Some of the women were helping the men mend their clothesor clean their arms, and humming ribald songs. 

"Where is the sergeant?" demanded one of the guards angrily. "Hasthe alférez been informed?"

A shrug of the shoulders was the sole response; no one would takeany trouble for the poor woman. 

Two long hours she stayed there, half mad, crouched in a corner, her face hidden in her hands, her hair undone. At noon the alférezarrived. He refused to believe the curate's accusations. 

"Bah! monks' tricks!" said he; and ordered that the woman be releasedand the affair dropped. 

"If he wants to find what he's lost, " he added, "let him complain tothe nuncio! That's all I have to say. "

Sisa, who could scarcely move, was almost carried out of thebarracks. When she found herself in the street, she set out as fastas she could for her home, her head bare, her hair loose, her eyesfixed. The sun, then in the zenith, burned with all his fire: not acloud veiled his resplendent disc. The wind just moved the leaves ofthe trees; not a bird dared venture from the shade of the branches. 

At length Sisa arrived. Troubled, silent, she entered her poor cabin, ran all about it, went out, came in, went out again. Then she ranto old Tasio's, knocked at the door. Tasio was not there. The poorthing went back and commenced to call, "Basilio! Crispin!" standingstill, listening attentively. An echo repeating her calls, the sweetmurmur of water from the river, the music of the reeds stirred bythe breeze, were the sole voices of the solitude. She called anew, mounted a hill, went down into a ravine; her wandering eyes took asinister expression; from time to time sharp lights flashed in them, then they were obscured, like the sky in a tempest. One might have saidthe light of reason, ready to go out, revived and died down in turn. 

She went back, and sat down on the mat where they had slept the nightbefore--she and Basilio--and raised her eyes. Caught in the bamboofence on the edge of the precipice, she saw a piece of Basilio'sblouse. She got up, took it, and examined it in the sunlight. Therewere blood spots on it, but Sisa did not seem to see them. She bentover and continued to look at this rag from her child's clothing, raised it in the air, bathing it in the brazen rays. Then, as ifthe last gleam of light within her had finally gone out, she lookedstraight at the sun, with wide-staring eyes. 

At length she began to wander about, crying out strange sounds. Onehearing her would have been frightened; her voice had a quality thehuman larynx would hardly know how to produce. 

The sun went down; night surprised her. Perhaps Heaven gave hersleep, and an angel's wing, brushing her pale forehead, took awaythat memory which no longer recalled anything but griefs. The nextday Sisa roamed about, smiling, singing, and conversing with all thebeings of great Nature. 

Three days passed, and the inhabitants of San Diego had ceased to talkor think of unhappy Sisa and her boys. Maria Clara, who, accompaniedby Aunt Isabel, had just arrived from Manila, was the chief subjectof conversation. Every one rejoiced to see her, for every one lovedher. They marvelled at her beauty, and speculated about her marriagewith Ibarra. On this evening, Crisóstomo presented himself at thehome of his fiancée; the curate arrived at the same moment. The housewas a delicious little nest among orange-trees and ylang-ylang. Theyfound Maria by an open window, overlooking the lake, surrounded bythe fresh foliage and delicate perfume of vines and flowers. 

"The winds blow fresh, " said the curate; "aren't you afraid oftaking cold?"

"I don't feel the wind, father, " said Maria. 

"We Filipinos, " said Crisóstomo, "find this season of autumn andspring together delicious. Falling leaves and budding trees inFebruary, and ripe fruit in March, with no cold winter between, is very agreeable. And when the hot months come we know where to go. "

The priest smiled, and the conversation turned to the pueblo and thefestival of its patron saint, which was near. 

"Speaking of fêtes, " said Crisóstomo to the curate, "we hope you willjoin us in a picnic to-morrow, near the great fig-tree in the wood. Thearrangements are all made as you wished, Maria. A small party is tostart for the fishing-ground before sunrise, " he went on to the curate, "and later we hope to be joined by all our friends of the pueblo. "

The curate said he should be happy to come after his services weresaid. They chatted a few moments longer, and then Ibarra excusedhimself to finish giving his invitations and make his finalarrangements. 

As he left the house a man saluted him respectfully. 

"Who are you?" asked Crisóstomo. 

"You would not know my name, señor; I have been trying to see youfor three days. "

"And what do you want?"

"Señor, my wife has gone mad, my children are lost, and no one willhelp me find them. I want your aid. "

"Come with me, " said Ibarra. 

The man thanked him, and they disappeared together in the darknessof the unlighted streets. 

XIX. 

THE FISHING PARTY. 

The stars were yet brilliant in the sapphire vault, and in thebranches the birds were still asleep when a merry party went throughthe streets of the pueblo, toward the lake, lighted by the glimmerof the pitch torches here called huepes. 

There were five young girls, walking rapidly, holding each other bythe hand or waist, followed by several elderly ladies, and servantsbearing gracefully on their heads baskets of provisions. To see thesegirls' faces, laughing with youth, to judge by their abundant blackhair flying free in the wind, and the ample folds of their garments, we might take them for divinities of the night fleeing at the approachof day; but they were Maria Clara and her four friends, the merrySinang, her cousin, the calm Victoria, beautiful Iday, and pensiveNeneng. They talked with animation, pinched each other, whispered ineach other's ears, and pealed out merry rounds of laughter. 

After a while there came to meet the party a group of young men, carrying torches of reeds. They were walking, silent, to the soundof a guitar. 

When the two groups met, the girls became serious and grave. The men, on the contrary, talked, laughed, and asked six questions to get halfa reply. 

"Is the lake smooth? Do you think we shall have a fine day?" demandedthe mamas. 

"Don't be disturbed, señoras, I'm a splendid swimmer, " said a tall, slim fellow, a merry-looking rascal with an air of mock gravity. 

But they were already at the borders of the lake, and cries ofdelight escaped the lips of the women. They saw two great barks, bound together, picturesquely decked with garlands of flowers andvarious-colored festoons of fluffy drapery. Little paper lanterns hungalternating with roses, pinks, pineapples, bananas, and guavas. Ruddersand oars were decorated too, and there were mats, rugs, and cushions tomake comfortable seats for the ladies. In the boat, most beautifullytrimmed, were a harp, guitars, accordeons, and a carabao's horn; inthe other burned a ship's fire; and tea, coffee and salabat--a teaof ginger sweetened with honey--were making for the first breakfast. 

"The women here, the men there, " said the mamas, embarking; "movecarefully, don't stir the boat or we shall capsize!"

"And we're to be in here all alone?" pouted Sinang. 

Slowly the boats left the beach, reflecting in the mirror of the lakethe many lights of their lanterns. In the east were the first streaksof dawn. 

Comparative silence reigned. The separation established by the ladiesseemed to have dedicated youth to meditation. The water was perfectlytranquil, the fishing-grounds were near; it was soon decided to abandonthe oars, and breakfast. Day had come, and the lanterns were put out. 

It was a beautiful morning. The light falling from the sky andreflected from the water made radiant the surface of the lake, andbathed everything in an atmosphere of clearness saturated with color, such as some marines suggest. Everybody, even the mamas, laughed andgrew merry. "Do you remember, when we were girls--" they began to eachother; and Maria and her young companions exchanged smiling glances. 

One man alone remained a stranger to this gayety--it was thehelmsman. Young, of athletic build, his melancholy eyes and the severelines of his lips gave an interest to his face, and this was heightenedby his long black hair falling naturally about his muscular neck. Hiswrists of steel managed like a feather the large and heavy oar whichserved as rudder to guide the two barks. 

Maria Clara had several times met his eyes, but he quickly turnedthem away to the shores or the mountains. Pitying his solitude, she offered him some cakes. With a certain surprise he took one, refusing the others, and thanked her in a voice scarcely audible. Noone else seemed to think of him. 

The early breakfast done, the party moved off toward the fishingenclosures. There were two, a little distance apart, both the propertyof Captain Tiago. In advance, a flock of white herons could be seen, some moving among the reeds, some flying here and there, skimmingthe water with their wings, and filling the air with their stridentcries. Maria Clara followed them with her eyes, as, at the approachof the two barks, they flew away from the shore. 

"Do these birds have their nests in the mountains?" she asked thehelmsman, less perhaps from the wish to know than to make the silentfellow talk. 

"Probably, señora, " he replied, "but no one has ever yet seen them. "

"They have no nests, then?"

"I suppose they must have; if not, they are unhappy indeed. "

Maria Clara did not catch the note of sadness in his voice. 

"Well?"

"They say, señora, that the nests of these birds are invisible, andhave the power to render invisible whoever holds them; that as thesoul can be seen only in the mirror of the eyes, so these nests canbe seen only in the mirror of the water. "

Maria Clara became pensive. But they had come to the first baklad, asthe enclosures are called. The old sailor in charge attached the boatsto the reeds, while his son prepared to mount with lines and nets. 

"Wait a moment, " cried Aunt Isabel, "the fish must come directly outof the water into the pan. "

"What, good Aunt Isabel!" said Albino reproachfully, "won't you givethe poor things a moment in the air?"

Andeng, Maria's foster-sister, was a famous cook. She began to preparerice water, the tomatoes, and the camias; the young men, perhaps towin her good graces, aided her, while the other girls arranged themelons, and cut paayap into cigarette-like strips. 

To while away the time Iday took up the harp, the instrument mostoften played in this part of the islands. She played well, and wasmuch applauded. Maria thanked her with a kiss. 

"Sing, Victoria, sing the 'Marriage Song, '" demanded the ladies. Thisis a beautiful Tagal elegy of married life, but sad, painting itsmiseries rather than its joys. The men clamored for it too, andVictoria had a lovely voice; but she was hoarse. So Maria Clara wasbegged to sing. 

"All my songs are sad, " she said. 

"Never mind, " said her companions, and without more urging she tookthe harp and sang in a rich and vibrant voice, full of feeling. 

The chant ceased, the harp became mute; yet no one applauded; theyseemed listening still. The young girls felt their eyes fill withtears; Ibarra seemed disturbed; the helmsman, motionless, was gazingfar away. 

Suddenly there came a crash like thunder. The women cried out andstopped their ears. It was Albino, filling with all the force of hislungs the carabao's horn. There needed nothing more to bring backlaughter, and dry tears. 

"Do you wish to make us deaf, pagan?" cried Aunt Isabel. 

"Señora, " he replied, "I've heard of a poor trumpeter who, fromsimply playing on his instrument, became the husband of a rich andnoble lady. "

"So he did--the Trumpeter of Säckingen!" laughed Ibarra. 

"Well, " said Albino, "we shall see if I am as happy!" and he beganto blow again with still more force. There was a panic: the mamasattacked him hand and foot. 

"Ouch! ouch!" he cried, rubbing his hurts; "the Philippines are farfrom the borders of the Rhine! For the same deed one is knighted, another put in the san-benito!"

At last Andeng announced the kettle ready for the fish. 

The fisherman's son now climbed the weir or "purse" of theenclosure. It was almost circular, a yard across, so arranged thata man could stand on top to draw out the fish with a little net orwith a line. 

All watched him, some thinking they saw already the quiver of thelittle fishes and the shimmer of their silver scales. 

The net was drawn up; nothing in it; the line, no fish adorned it. Thewater fell back in a shower of drops, and laughed a silvery laugh. Acry of disappointment escaped from every mouth. 

"You don't understand your business, " said Albino, climbing up bythe young man; and he took the net. "Look now! Ready, Andeng!"

But Albino was no better fisherman. Everybody laughed. 

"Don't make a noise, you'll drive away the fish. The net must bebroken. " But every mesh was intact. 

"Let me try, " said Léon, the fiancée of Iday. "Are you sure no onehas been here for five days?"

"Absolutely sure. "

"Then either the lake is enchanted or I draw out something. "

He cast the line, looked annoyed, dragged the hook along in the waterand murmured:

"A crocodile!"

"A crocodile!"

The word passed from mouth to mouth amid general stupefaction. 

"What's to be done?"

"Capture him!"

But nobody offered to go down. The water was deep. 

"We ought to drag him in triumph at our stern, " said Sinang; "he haseaten our fish!"

"I've never seen a crocodile alive, " mused Maria Clara. 

The helmsman got up, took a rope, lithely climbed the little platform, and in spite of warning cries dived into the weir. The water, troubledan instant, became smooth; the abyss closed mysteriously. 

"Heaven!" cried the women, "we are going to have a catastrophe!"

The water was agitated: a combat seemed to be going on below. Above, there was absolute silence. Ibarra held his blade in a convulsivegrasp. Then the struggle seemed to end, and the young man's headappeared. He was saluted with joyous cries. He climbed the platform, holding in one hand an end of the rope. Then he pulled with all hisstrength, and the monster came in view. The rope was round its neckand the fore part of its body; it was large, and on its back could beseen green moss--to a crocodile what white hair is to man. It bellowedlike an ox, beat the reeds with its tail, crouched, and opened itsjaws, black and terrifying, showing its long and saw-like teeth. Noone thought of aiding the helmsman. When he had drawn the reptileout of the water he put his foot on it, closed with his robust handthe redoubtable jaws, and tried to tie the muzzle. The creature madea last effort, arched its body, beat about with its powerful tail, and escaping, plunged outside the enclosure into the lake, draggingits vanquisher after it. The helmsman was a dead man. A cry of horrorescaped from every mouth. 

Like a flash, another body disappeared in the water. There scarcewas time to see it was Ibarra's. If Maria Clara did not faint, itwas that the natives of the Philippines do not yet know how. 

The waters grew red. Then the young fisherman leaped in, his fatherfollowed him. But they had scarcely disappeared, when Ibarra and thehelmsman came to the surface, clinging to the crocodile's body. Itswhite belly was lacerated, Ibarra's knife was in the gorge. 

Many arms stretched out to help the two young men from the water. Themamas, hysterical, wept, laughed, and prayed. Ibarra was unharmed. Thehelmsman had a slight scratch on the arm. 

"I owe you my life, " said he to Ibarra, who was being wrapped inmantles and rugs. 

"You are too intrepid, " said Ibarra. "Another time do not tempt God. "

"If you had not come back!" murmured Maria Clara, pale and trembling. 

The ladies did not approve of going to the second baklad; to theirminds the day had begun ill; there could not fail to be othermisfortunes; it were better to go home. 

"But what misfortune have we had?" said Ibarra. "The crocodile alonehas the right to complain. "

At length the mamas were persuaded, and the barks took their coursetoward the second baklad. 

XX. 

IN THE WOODS. 

There had not been much hope in this second baklad. Every oneexpected to find there the crocodile's mate; but the net alwayscame up full. The fishing ended, the boats were turned toward theshore. There was the party of the townspeople whom Ibarra hadinvited to meet his guests of the morning, and lunch with themunder improvised tents beside a brook, in the shade of the ancienttrees of the wooded peninsula. Music was resounding in the place, and water sang in the kettles. The body of the crocodile, in tow ofthe boats, turned from side to side; sometimes presenting its belly, white and torn, sometimes its spotted back and mossy shoulders. Man, the favorite of nature, is little disturbed by his many fratricides. 

The party dispersed, some going to the baths, some wandering amongthe trees. The silent young helmsman disappeared. A path with manywindings crossed the thicket of the wood and led to the upper courseof the warm brook, formed from some of the many thermal springs onthe flanks of the Makiling. Along the banks of the stream grew woodflowers, many of which have no Latin names, but are none the lessknown to golden bugs, to butterflies, shaded, jewelled, and bronzed, and to thousands of coleopters powdered with gold and gleaming withfacets of steel. The hum of these insects, the song of birds, or thedry sound of dead branches catching in their fall, alone broke themysterious silence. Suddenly the tones of fresh, young voices wereadded to the wood notes. They seemed to come down the brook. 

"We shall see if I find a nest!" said a sweet and resonant voice. "Ishould like to see him without his seeing me. I should like to followhim everywhere. "

"I don't believe in heron's nests, " said another voice; "but if Iwere in love, I should know how at once to see and to be invisible. "

It was Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang walking in the brook. Theireyes were on the water, where they were searching for the mysteriousnest. In blouses striped with dainty colors, their full bath skirtswet to the knees, outlining the graceful curves of their bodies, they moved along, seeking the impossible, meanwhile picking flowersalong the banks. Soon the little stream bent its course, and the tallreeds hid the charming trio and cut off the sound of their voices. 

A little farther on, in the middle of the stream, was a sort of bath, well enclosed, its roof of leafy bamboo; palm leaves, flowers, andstreamers decked its sides. From here, too, came girls' voices. Fartheron was a bamboo bridge, and beyond that the men were bathing, while amultitude of servants were busy plucking fowls, washing rice, roastingpigs. In the clearing on the opposite bank a group of men and womenhad formed under a great canvas roof, attached in part to the branchesof the ancient trees, in part to pickets. There chatted the curate, the alférez, the vicar, the gobernadorcillo, the lieutenant, all thechief men of the town, including the famous orator, Captain Basilio, father of Sinang and opponent of Don Rafael Ibarra in a lawsuit notyet ended. 

"We dispute a point at law, " Crisóstomo had said in inviting him, "but to dispute is not to be enemies, " and the famous orator hadaccepted the invitation. 

Bottles of lemonade were opened and green cocoanut shells were broken, so that those who came from the baths might drink the fresh water;the girls were given wreaths of ylang-ylang and roses to perfumetheir unbound hair. 

The lunch hour came. The curate, the alférez, the gobernadorcillo, some captains, and the lieutenant sat at a table with Ibarra. Themamas allowed no men at the table with the girls. 

"Have you learned anything, señor alférez, about the criminal whoattacked Brother Dámaso?" said Brother Salvi. 

"Of what criminal are you speaking?" asked the alférez, looking atthe father over his glass of wine. 

"What? Why, the one who attacked Brother Dámaso on the highway daybefore yesterday. "

"Father Dámaso has been attacked?" asked several voices. 

"Yes; he is in bed yet. It is thought the maker of the assault isElias, the one who threw you into the swamp some time ago, señoralférez. "

The alférez reddened with shame, if it were not from emptying hisglass of wine. 

"But I supposed you were informed, " the curate went on; "I said tomyself that the alférez of the Municipal Guard----"

The officer bit his lip. 

At that moment a woman, pale, thin, miserably dressed, appeared, like a phantom, in the midst of the feast. 

"Give the poor woman something to eat, " said the ladies. 

She kept on toward the table where the curate was seated. He turned, recognized her, and the knife fell from his hand. 

"Give the woman something to eat, " ordered Ibarra. 

"The night is dark and the children are gone, " murmured the poorwoman. But at sight of the alférez she became frightened and ran, disappearing among the trees. 

"Who is it?" demanded several voices. 

"Isn't her name Sisa?" asked Ibarra with interest. 

"Your soldiers arrested her, " said the lieutenant to the alférez, with some bitterness; "they brought her all the way across the pueblofor some story about her sons that nobody could clear up. "

"What!" demanded the alférez, turning to the curate. "It is perhapsthe mother of your sacristans?"

The curate nodded assent. 

"They have disappeared, and there hasn't been the slightest effort tofind them, " said Don Filipo severely, looking at the gobernadorcillo, who lowered his eyes. 

"Bring back the woman, " Crisóstomo ordered his servants. 

"They have disappeared, did you say?" demanded the alférez. "Yoursacristans have disappeared, Father Salvi?"

The curate emptied his glass and made another affirmative sign. 

"Ho, ho! father, " cried the alférez with a mocking laugh, rejoiced atthe prospect of revenge. "Your reverence loses a few pesos, and mysergeant is routed out to find them; your two sacristans disappear, your reverence says nothing; and you also, señor gobernadorcillo, you also----"

He did not finish, but broke off laughing, and buried his spoon inthe red flesh of a papaw. 

The curate began with some confusion:

"I was responsible for the money. "

"Excellent reply, reverend pastor of souls!" interrupted the alférez, his mouth full. "Excellent reply, holy man!"

Ibarra was on the point of interfering, but the priest recoveredhimself. 

"Do you know, señor alférez, " he asked, "what is said about thedisappearance of these children? No? Then ask your soldiers. "

"What!" cried the alférez, thus challenged, abandoning his mockingtone. 

"They say that on the night when they disappeared shots were heardin the pueblo. "

"Shots?" repeated the alférez, looking at the faces around him. Therewere several signs of assent. 

Brother Salvi went on with a sarcastic smile:

"Come! I see that you do not know how to arrest criminals, that youare unaware of what your soldiers do, but that you are ready to turnyourself into a preacher and teach others their duty. "

"Señores, " interrupted Ibarra, seeing the alférez grow pale, "I wishto know what you think of a project I've formed. I should like togive the mother into the care of a good physician. I've promised thefather to try to find his children. "

The return of the servants without Sisa gave a new turn to theconversation. The luncheon was finished. While the tea and coffeewere being served the guests separated into groups, the elders toplay cards or chess, while the girls, curious to learn their destiny, posed questions to the "Wheel of Fortune. "

"Come, Señor Ibarra!" cried Captain Basilio, a little gayer than usual;"we've had a case in court for fifteen years and no judge is able tosolve it; let's see if we cannot end it at chess. "

"In a moment, with great pleasure, " said Ibarra; "the alférez isleaving us. "

As soon as the officer had gone the men grouped around the twoplayers. It was to be an interesting game. The elder ladies meanwhilehad surrounded the curate, to talk with him of the things of religion;but Brother Salvi seemed to judge the time unfitting and made butvague replies, his rather irritated glance being directed almosteverywhere except toward his questioners. 

The chess players began with much solemnity. 

"If the game is a tie, the affair is forgotten!" said Ibarra. 

In the midst of the play he received a despatch. His eyes shone and hebecame pale, but he put the message in his pocket without opening it. 

"Check!" he cried. Captain Basilio had no recourse but to hide hisking behind the queen. 

"Check!" said Ibarra, threatening with his castle. 

Captain Basilio asked a moment to reflect. 

"Willingly, " said Ibarra; "I, too, should like a moment, " and excusinghimself he went toward the group round the "Wheel of Fortune. "

Iday had the disc on which were the forty-eight questions, Albinothe book of replies. 

"Ask something, " they all cried to Ibarra, as he came up. "The onewho has the best answer is to receive a present from the others. "

"And who has had the best so far?"

"Maria Clara!" cried Sinang. "We made her ask whether her lover isconstant and true, and the book said----"

But Maria, all blushes, put her hand over Sinang's mouth. 

"Give me the 'Wheel' then, " said Crisóstomo, smiling. And he asked:

"Shall I succeed in my present undertaking?"

"What a stupid question!" pouted Sinang. 

The corresponding answer was found in the book. "'Dreams are dreams, '"read Albino. 

Ibarra brought out his telegram and opened it, trembling. 

"This time your wheel lies!" he cried. "Read!"

"'Project for school approved. ' What does that mean?" they asked. 

"This is my present, " said he, giving the despatch to Maria Clara. "I'mto build a school in the pueblo; the school is my offering. " And theyoung fellow ran back to his game of chess. 

After making this present to his fiancée, Ibarra was so happy thathe played without reflection, and, thanks to his many false moves, the captain re-established himself, and the game was a draw. The twomen shook hands with effusion. 

While they were thus making an end of the long and tedious suit, thesudden appearance of a sergeant and four armed guards, bayonets fixed, broke rudely in upon the merry-makers. 

"Whoever stirs is a dead man!" cried the sergeant. 

In spite of this bluster, Ibarra went up to him and asked whathe wanted. 

"We want a criminal named Elias, who was your helmsman this morning, "replied the officer, still threatening. 

"A criminal? The helmsman? You must be mistaken. "

"No, señor, this Elias is accused of having raised his hand againsta priest. You admit questionable people to your fêtes. "

Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with greatcoldness. 

"I am in no way accountable to you for my actions. Every one iswelcome at my fêtes. " And he turned away. 

The sergeant, finding he was making no headway, ordered his men tosearch on all sides. They had the helmsman's description on paper. 

"Notice that this description answers well for nine-tenths of thenatives, " said Don Filipo; "see that you make no mistakes!"

Quiet came back little by little. There were no end of questions. 

"So this is the Elias who threw the alférez into the swamp, " said Léon. 

"He's a tulisane then?" asked Victoria, trembling. 

"I think not, for I know that he once fought against the tulisanes. "

"He hasn't the face of a criminal, " said Sinang. 

"No; but his face is very sad, " said Maria. "I did not see him smileall the morning. "

The day was ending, and in the last rays of the setting suneverybody left the wood, passing in silence the tomb of Ibarra'sancestor. Farther on conversation again became animated, gay, fullof warmth, under these branches little used to merry-making. But thetrees appeared sad, and the swaying bindweed seemed to say: "Adieu, youth! Adieu, dream of a day!"

XXI. 

WITH THE PHILOSOPHER. 

The next morning, Juan Crisóstomo Ibarra, after visiting his land, turned his horse toward old Tasio's. 

Complete quiet reigned in the old man's garden; scarcely did theswallows make a sound as they flew round the roof. The old walls ofthe house were mossy, and ivy framed the windows. It seemed the abodeof silence. 

Ibarra tied his horse, crossed the neat garden, almost on tiptoe, andentered the open door. He found the old man in his study, surroundedby his collections of insects and leaves, his maps, manuscript, andbooks. He was writing, and so absorbed in his work that he did notnotice the entrance of Ibarra until the young man, loath to disturbhim, was leaving as quietly as he had come. 

"What! you were there?" he cried, looking at Crisóstomo with a certainastonishment. 

"Don't disturb yourself; I see you are busy----"

"I was writing a little, but it is not at all pressing. Can I be ofservice to you?"

"Of great service, " said Ibarra, approaching; "but--you are decipheringhieroglyphics!" he exclaimed in surprise, catching sight of the oldman's work. 

"No, I'm writing in hieroglyphics. "

"Writing in hieroglyphics? And why?" demanded the young man, doubtinghis senses. 

"So that no one can read me. "

Ibarra looked at him attentively, wondering if he were not a littlemad after all. 

"And why do you write if you do not wish to be read?"

"I write not for this generation, but for future ages. If the menof to-day could read my books, they would burn them; the generationthat deciphers these characters will understand, and will say: 'Ourancestors did not all sleep. ' But you have something to ask of me, and we are talking of other things. "

Ibarra drew out some papers. 

"I know, " he said, "that my father greatly valued your advice, andI have come to ask it for myself. "

And he briefly explained his project for the school, unrolling beforethe stupefied philosopher plans sent from Manila. "Whom shall I consultfirst, in the pueblo, whose support will avail me most? You know themall, I am almost a stranger. "

Old Tasio examined with tearful eyes the drawings before him. 

"You are going to realize my dream, " he said, greatly moved; "thedream of a poor fool. And now the first advice I give you is neverto ask advice of me. "

Ibarra looked at him in surprise. 

"Because, if you do, " he continued with bitter irony, "all sensiblepeople will take you for a fool, too. For all sensible people thinkthose who differ with them fools; they think me one, and I am gratefulfor it, because the day they see in me a reasonable being woe isme! That day I shall lose the little liberty I now enjoy at theexpense of my reputation. The gobernadorcillo passes with them fora wise man because having learned nothing but to serve chocolate andto suffer the caprices of Brother Dámaso, he is now rich and has theright to trouble the life of his fellow-citizens. 'There is a man oftalent!' says the crowd. 'He has sprung from nothing to greatness. ' Butperhaps I am really the fool and they are the wise men. Who can say?"

And the old man shook his head as though to dismiss an unwelcomethought. 

"The second thing I advise is to consult the curate, thegobernadorcillo, all the people of position in the pueblo. They willgive you bad advice, unintelligible, useless. But to ask advice isnot to follow it. All you need is to make it understood that you areworking in accordance with their ideas. "

Ibarra reflected, then replied:

"No doubt your counsel is good, but it is very hard to take. May Inot offer my own ideas to the light of day? Cannot the good make itsway anywhere? Has truth need of the dross of error?"

"No one likes the naked truth, " replied the old man. "It is good intheory, easy in the ideal world of which youth dreams. You say youare a stranger to your country; I believe it. The day that you arrivedhere, you began by wounding the self-esteem of a priest. God grant thisseemingly small thing has not decided your future. If it has, all yourefforts will break against the convent walls, without disturbing themonk, swaying his girdle, or making his robe tremble. The alcalde, under one pretext or another, will deny you to-morrow what he grantsyou to-day; not a mother will let her child go to your school, andthe result of all your efforts will be simply negative. "

"I cannot help feeling your fears exaggerated, " said Ibarra. "In spiteof all you say, I cannot believe in this power; but even admitting itto be so great, the most intelligent of the people would be on my side, and also the Government, which is animated by the best intentions, and wishes the veritable good of the Philippines. "

"The Government! the Government!" murmured the philosopher, raising his eyes. "However great its desire to better the country, however generous may have been the spirit of the Catholic kings, the Government sees, hears, judges nothing more than the curate orthe provincial gives it to see, hear, or judge. The Government isconvinced that its tranquillity comes through the monks; that ifit is upheld, it is because they uphold it; that if it live, is itbecause they consent to let it, and that the day when they fail it, it will fall like a manikin that has lost its base. The monks holdthe Government in hand by threatening a revolt of the people theycontrol; the people, by displaying the power of the Government. Solong as the Government has not an understanding with the country, it will not free itself from this tutelage. The Government looks tono vigorous future; it's an arm, the head is the convent. Throughits inertia, it allows itself to be dragged from abyss to abyss; itsexistence is no more than a shadow. Compare our system of governmentwith the systems of countries you have visited----"

"Oh!" interrupted Ibarra, "that is going far. Let us be satisfied that, thanks to religion and the humanity of our rulers, our people do notcomplain, do not suffer like those of other countries. "

"The people do not complain because they have no voice; if theydon't revolt, it is because they are lethargic; if you say they donot suffer, it is because you have not seen their heart's blood. Butthe day will come when you will see and hear. Then woe to those whobase their strength on ignorance and fanaticism; woe to those whogovern through falsehood, and work in the night, thinking that allsleep! When the sun's light shows the sham of all these phantoms, there will be a frightful reaction; all this strength conserved forcenturies, all this poison distilled drop by drop, all these sighsstrangled, will find the light and the air. Who pay these accountswhich the people from time to time present, and which History preservesfor us in its bloody pages?"

"God will never permit such a day to come!" replied Ibarra, impressedin spite of himself. "The Filipinos are religious, and they loveSpain. There are abuses, yes, but Spain is preparing reforms tocorrect them; her projects are now ripening. "

"I know; but the reforms which come from the head are annulledlower down, thanks to the greedy desire of officials to enrichthemselves in a short time, and to the ignorance of the people, whoaccept everything. Abuses are not to be corrected by royal decrees, not where the liberty of speech, which permits the denunciation ofpetty tyrants, does not exist. Projects remain projects; abuses, abuses. Moreover, if by chance some one coming to occupy an officebegins to show high and generous ideas, immediately he hears on allsides--while to his back he is held a fool: 'Your Excellency doesnot know the country, Your Excellency does not know the character ofthe Indians, Your Excellency will ruin them, Your Excellency will dowell to consult this one and that one, ' and so forth, and so on. Andas in truth His Excellency does not know the country, which hithertohe had supposed to be in America, and since, like all men, he has hisfaults and weaknesses, he allows himself to be convinced. Don't askfor miracles; don't ask that he who comes here a stranger to make hisfortune should interest himself in the welfare of the country. Whatdoes it mean to him, the gratitude or the execration of a people hedoes not know, among whom he has neither attachments nor hopes? Tomake glory sweet to us, its plaudits must resound in the ears ofthose we love, in the atmosphere of our home, of the country thatis to preserve our ashes; we wish this glory seated on our tomb, to warm a little with its rays the cold of death, to keep us frombeing reduced to nothingness quite. But we wander from the question. "

"It is true I did not come to argue this point; I came to ask advice, and you tell me to bow before grotesque idols. "

"Yes, and I repeat it; you must either lower your head or lose it. "

"'Lower my head or lose it!'" repeated Ibarra, thoughtful. "The dilemmais hard. Is it impossible to reconcile love of my country and love ofSpain? Must one abase himself to be a good Christian; prostitute hisconscience to achieve a good work? I love my country; I love Spain;I am a Catholic, and keep pure the faith of my fathers; but I see inall this no reason for delivering myself into the hands of my enemies. "

"But the field where you would sow is in the keeping of yourenemies. You must begin by kissing the hand which----"

Ibarra did not let him finish. 

"Kiss their hands! You forget that among them are those who killed myfather and tore his body from the grave; but I, his son, do not forget, and if I do not avenge, it is because of my allegiance to religion!"

The old philosopher lowered his eyes. 

"Señor Ibarra, " he said slowly, "if you are going to keep theremembrance of these things, things I cannot counsel you to forget, abandon this enterprise and find some other means of benefiting yourcompatriots. This work demands another man. "

Ibarra saw the force of these words, but he could not give up hisproject. The remembrance of Maria Clara was in his heart; he mustmake good his offering to her. 

"If I go on, does your experience suggest nothing but this hardroad?" he asked in a low voice. 

Old Tasio took his arm and led him to the window. A fresh breeze wasblowing, courier of the north wind. Below lay the garden. 

"Why must we do as does that slender stalk, charged with buds andblossoms?" said the philosopher, pointing out a superb rose-tree. "Thewind makes it tremble, and it bends, as if to hide its preciouscharge. If the stalk stood rigid, it would break, the wind wouldscatter the flowers, and the buds would die without opening. Thegust of wind passed, the stalk rises again, proudly wearing hertreasure. Who accuses her for having bowed to necessity? To lower thehead when a ball whistles is not cowardice. What is reprehensible isdefying the shot, to fall and rise no more. "

"And will this sacrifice bear the fruit I seek? Will they have faithin me? Can the priest forget his own offence? Will they sincerelyaid me to spread that instruction which is sure to dispute with theconvents the wealth of the country? Might they not feign friendship, simulate protection, and, underneath, wound my enterprise in the heel, that it fall more promptly than if attacked face to face? Admittingyour views, one might expect anything. "

The old man reflected, then he said:

"If this happens, if the enterprise fails, you will have theconsolation of having done what you could. Something will have beengained. Your example will embolden others, who fear only to commence. "

Ibarra weighed these reasonings, examined the situation, and saw thatwith all his pessimism the old man was right. 

"I believe you, " he said, grasping his hand. "It was not in vainthat I came to you for counsel. I will go straight to the curate, who, after all, may be a fair-minded man. They are not all like thepersecutor of my father. I go with faith in God and man. "

He took leave of Tasio, mounted, and rode away, followed by the regardof the pessimistic old philosopher, who stood muttering to himself:

"We shall see, we shall see how the fates unroll the drama begun inthe cemetery!"

This time the wise Tasio was wrong; the drama had begun long before. 

XXII. 

THE MEETING AT THE TOWN HALL. 

It was a room of twelve or fifteen by eight or ten yards. Thewhitewashed walls were covered with charcoal drawings, more or lessugly, more or less decent. In the corner were a dozen old shot-gunsand some rusty swords, the arms of the cuadrilleros. 

At one end, draped with soiled red curtains, was a portrait of HisMajesty the King, and on the platform underneath an old fauteuilopened its worn arms; before this was a great table, daubed with ink, carved and cut with inscriptions and monograms, like the tables ofa German students' inn. Lame chairs and tottering benches completedthe furniture. 

In this hall meetings were held, courts sat, tortures wereinflicted. At the moment the authorities of the pueblo and its vicinitywere met there. The party of the old did not mingle with the partyof the young; the two represented the Conservatives and Liberals. 

"My friends, " Don Filipo, the chief of the Liberals, was saying toa little group, "we shall vanquish the old men this time; I'm goingto present their plan myself, with exaggerations, you may imagine. "

"What are you saying?" demanded his surprised auditors. 

"Listen, " said Don Filipo. "This morning I ran across old Tasio. Hesaid to me: 'Your enemies are more opposed to your person than to yourideas. Is there something you don't want to have go through? Propose ityourself. If it's as desirable as a mitre, they will reject it. Thenlet the most modest young fellow among you present what you reallywant. To humiliate you, your enemies will help to carry it. ' Hush! Keepthe secret. "

The gobernadorcillo had come in. Conversation ceased, all took places, and silence reigned. 

The captain, as the gobernadorcillo is called, sat down in the chairunder the king's portrait. His look was harried. He coughed, passedhis hand over his cranium, coughed again, and at length began in afailing voice:

"Señores, I've taken the risk of convening you all--hem, hem!--becausewe are to celebrate, the twelfth of this month, the feast of ourpatron, San Diego--hem, hem!"

At this point of his discourse a cough, dry and regular, reduced himto silence. 

Then from among the elders arose Captain Basilio:

"Will your honors permit me, " said he, "to speak a word under theseinteresting circumstances? I speak first, though many of those presenthave more right than I, but the things I have to say are of suchimportance that they should neither be left aside nor said last, and for that reason I wish to speak first, to give them the placethey merit. Your honors will, then, permit me to speak first in thisassembly, where I see very distinguished people, like the señor, thepresent gobernadorcillo; his predecessor, my distinguished friend, DonValentine; his other predecessor, Don Julio; our renowned captain ofthe cuadrilleros, Don Melchior, and so many others, whom, for brevity, I will not mention, and whom you see here present. I entreat yourhonors to give me the floor before any one else speaks. Am I happyenough to have the assembly accede to my humble request?" And thespeaker bowed respectfully, half smiling. 

"You may speak, we shall hear you with pleasure!" cried his flatteringfriends, who held him a great orator. The old men hemmed withsatisfaction and rubbed their hands. 

Captain Basilio wiped the sweat from his brow and continued:

"Since your honors have been so kind and complaisant toward my humbleself as to grant me the right of speech before all others here present, I shall profit by this permission, so generously accorded, and I shallspeak. I imagine in my imagination that I find myself in the midst ofthe very venerable Roman senate--senatus populusque Romanus, as we saidin those good old times which, unhappily for humanity, will never comeback, --and I will ask the patres conscripti--as the sage Cicero wouldsay if he were in my place--I would ask them, since time presses, and time is golden as Solomon says, that in this important mattereach one give his opinion clearly, briefly, and simply. I have done. "

And satisfied with himself and with the attention of the house theorator sat down, not without directing toward his friends a lookwhich plainly said: "Ha! Did I speak well? Ha!"

"Now the floor belongs to any one who--hem!" said the gobernadorcillo, without being able to finish his sentence. 

To judge by the general silence, no one wished to be one of the patresconscripti. Don Filipo profited thereby and rose. 

The Conservatives looked at one another with significant nods andgestures. 

"Señores, I will present my project for the fête, " he began. 

"We cannot accept it!" said an uncompromising Conservative. 

"We vote against it!" cried another adversary. 

Don Filipo could not repress a smile. 

"We have a budget of 3, 500 pesos. With this sum we can assure afête that will surpass any we have yet seen in our own province orin others. "

There were cries of "Impossible!" Such a pueblo spent 4, 000 pesos;another, 5, 000!

"Listen, señores, and you will be convinced, " continued Don Filipo, unshaken. "I propose that in the middle of the plaza we erect a grandtheatre, costing 150 pesos. "

"Not enough! Say 160!"

"Observe, gentlemen, 200 pesos for the theatre. I propose thatarrangements be made with the Comedy Company of Tondo for sevenrepresentations, seven consecutive evenings, at 200 pesos anevening. Seven representations, at 200 pesos each, makes 1, 400pesos. Observe, señor director, 1, 400 pesos. "

Old and young looked at one another in surprise. Only those in thesecret remained unmoved. 

"I further propose magnificent fireworks; not those little rocketsand crackers that amuse nobody but children and old maids, but greatbombs, colossal rockets. I propose, then, 200 bombs at two pesos each, and 200 rockets at the same price. Observe, señores, 1, 000 pesos forbombs and----"

The Conservatives could not contain themselves. They got up andconferred with one another. 

"And further, to show our neighbors that we are not people who mustcount their expenditures, I propose, first, four great preachers forthe two feast days; second, that each day we throw into the lake 200roasted fowls, 100 stuffed capons, and 50 sucking pigs, as did Sylla, contemporary of Cicero, to whom Captain Basilio alluded. "

"That's it! Like Sylla!" repeated Captain Basilio, flattered. 

The astonishment grew. 

"As many rich people will come to the fêtes, each bringing thousandsof pesos and his best cocks, I propose fifteen days of the gallera, the liberty of open gaming houses----"

Cries rising from all sides drowned his voice; there was a veritabletumult. The gobernadorcillo, more crushed than ever, did nothing toquell it; he waited for order to establish itself. 

Happily Captain Valentine, most moderate of the Conservatives, roseand said:

"What the lieutenant proposes seems to us extravagant. So many bombsand so much comedy could only be proposed by a young man, like thelieutenant, who could pass all his evenings at the theatre and hearcountless detonations without becoming deaf. And what of these fowlsthrown into the lake? Why should we imitate Sylla and the Romans? Didthey ever invite us to their fêtes? I'm an old man, and I've neverreceived any summons from them!"

"The Romans live at Rome with the Pope, " Captain Basilio whispered. 

This did not disconcert Don Valentine. 

"At all events, " he went on, "the project is inadmissible, impossible;it's a folly!"

Don Filipo must needs retire his project. 

Satisfied with the defeat of their enemy, the Conservatives were notdispleased to see another young man rise, the municipal head of agroup of fifty or sixty families, known as a balangay. 

He modestly excused himself for speaking. With delicate blandishmentshe referred to the "ideas so elegantly expressed by Captain Basilio, "upon which the delighted captain made signs to show him how togesture and to change position: then he unfolded his project: to havesomething absolutely new, and to spend the 3, 500 pesos in such a wayas to benefit their own province. 

"That's it!" interrupted the young men; "that's what we want!"

What did they care about seeing the King of Bohemia cut off theheads of his daughters! They were neither kings nor barbarians, andif they did such things themselves, would be hung high on the fieldof Bagumbayan. He proposed that two native plays be given which dealtwith the manners of the times. There were two he had in mind, worksof their best writers. They demanded only native costumes, and couldbe played by amateurs of talent, of whom the province had no lack. 

"A good idea!" some of the Conservatives began to murmur. 

"I'll pay for the theatre!" cried Captain Basilio, with enthusiasm. 

"Accepted! Accepted!" cried numerous voices. The young man went on:

"A part of the money taken at the theatre might be distributed inprizes: to the best pupil in the school, the best shepherd, thebest fisherman. We might have boat races, and games, and fireworks, of course. "

Almost all were agreed, though some talked about "innovations. "

When silence was established, only the decision of the gobernadorcillowas wanting. 

The poor man passed his hand across his forehead, he fidgeted, heperspired; finally he stammered, lowering his eyes:

"I also; I approve; but, hem!"

The assembly listened in silence. 

"But----" demanded Captain Basilio. 

"I approve entirely, " repeated the functionary, "that is to say, I do not approve; I say yes, but----"

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"But, " continued the unhappy man, coming to the point at last, "the curate wants something else. "

"Is the curate to pay for the festival? Has he given even acuarto?" cried a penetrating voice. 

Every one turned. It was Tasio. The lieutenant remained immovable, his eyes on the gobernadorcillo. 

"And what does the curate want?" demanded Don Basilio. 

"The curate wants six processions, three sermons, three solemn masses, and if any money is left, a comedy with songs between the acts. "

"But we don't want it!" cried the young men and some of their elders. 

"The curate wishes it, " repeated the gobernadorcillo, "and I'vepromised that his wishes shall be carried out. "

"Then why did you call us together?" asked one, impatient. 

"Why didn't you say so in the beginning?" demanded another. 

"I wished to, señores, but, Captain Basilio, I did not have achance. We must obey the curate!"

"We must obey!" repeated some of the Conservatives. 

Don Filipo approached the gobernadorcillo and said bitterly:

"I sacrificed my pride in a good cause; you sacrifice your manlinessin a bad one; you spoil every good thing that might be done!"

Ibarra said to the schoolmaster:

"Have you any commission for the capital? I leave immediately. "

On the way home the old philosopher said to Don Filipo, who wascursing his fate:

"The fault is ours. You didn't protest when they gave you a slavefor mayor, and I, fool that I am, forgot about him!"

XXIII. 

THE EVE OF THE FÊTE. 

It is the 10th of November, the eve of the fête. The pueblo of SanDiego is stirred by an incredible activity; in the houses, the streets, the church, the gallera, all is unwonted movement. From windows flagsand rugs are hanging; the air, resounding with bombs and music, seems saturated with gayety. Inside on little tables covered withbordered cloths the dalaga arranges in jars of tinted crystal theconfitures made from the native fruits. Servants come and go; orders, whispers, comments, conjectures are everywhere. And all this activityand labor are for guests as often unknown as known; the stranger, the friend, the Filipino, the Spaniard, the rich man, the poor man, will be equally fortunate; and no one will ask his gratitude, noreven demand that he speak well of his host till the end of his dinner. 

The red covers which all the year protect the lamps are taken off, and the swinging prisms and crystal pendants strike out harmonies fromone another and throw dancing rainbow colors on the white walls. Theglass globes, precious heirlooms, are rubbed and polished; the daintyhandiwork of the young girls of the house is brought out. Floorsshine like mirrors, curtains of piña or silk jusi ornament the doors, and in the windows hang lanterns of crystal or of colored paper. Thevases on the Chinese pedestals are heaped with flowers, the saintsthemselves in their reliquaries are dusted and wreathed with blossoms. 

At intervals along the streets rise graceful arches of reed; aroundthe parvis of the church is the costly covered passageway, supportedby trunks of bamboos, under which the procession is to pass, andin the centre of the plaza rises the platform of the theatre, withits stage of reed, of nipa, or of wood. The native pyrotechnician, who learns his art from no one knows what master, is getting readyhis castles, balloons, and fiery wheels; all the bells of the puebloare ringing gaily. There are sounds of music in the distance, and thegamins run to meet the bands and give them escort. In comes the fanfarewith spirited marches, followed by the ragged and half-naked urchins, who, the moment a number is ended, know it by heart, hum it, whistleit with wonderful accuracy, and are ready to pass judgment on it. 

Meanwhile the people of the mountains, the kasamà, in gala dress, bring down to the rich of the pueblo wild game and fruits, and therarest plants of the woods, the biga, with its great leaves, andthe tikas-tikas, whose flaming flowers will ornament the doorways ofthe houses. And from all sides, in all sorts of vehicles, arrive theguests, known and unknown, many bringing with them their best cocksand sacks of gold to risk in the gallera, or on the green cloth. 

"The alférez has fifty pesos a night, " a little plump man is murmuringin the ears of his guests. "Captain Tiago will hold the bank; CaptainJoaquin brings eighteen thousand. There will be liam-pô; the ChineseCarlo puts up the game, with a capital of ten thousand. Sporting menare coming from Lipa and Batanzos and Santa Cruz. There will be bigplay! big play!--but will you take chocolate?--Captain Tiago won'tfleece us this year as he did last; and how is your family?"

"Very well, very well, thank you! And Father Dámaso?"

"The father will preach in the morning and be with us at the gamesin the evening. "

"He's out of danger now?"

"Without question! Ah, it's the Chinese who will let their handsgo!" And in dumb show the little man counted money with his hands. 

But the greatest animation of all was at the outskirts of the crowd, around a sort of platform a few paces from the home of Ibarra. Pulleyscreaked, cries went up, one heard the metallic ring of stone-cutting, of nail-driving; a band of workmen were opening a long, deep trench;others were placing in line great stones from the quarries of thepueblo, emptying carts, dumping sand, placing capstans. 

"This way! That's it! Quick about it!" a little old man ofintelligent and animated face was crying. It was the foreman, SeñorJuan, architect, mason, carpenter, metalworker, stonecutter, and onoccasions sculptor. To each stranger he repeated what he had alreadysaid a thousand times. 

"Do you know what we are going to build? A model school, like thoseof Germany, and even better. The plans were traced by Señor R----. Idirect the work. Yes, señor, you see it is to be a palace with twowings, one for the boys, the other for the girls. Here in the centrewill be a great garden with three fountains, and at the sides littlegardens for the children to cultivate plants. That great space yousee there is for playgrounds. It will be magnificent!" And the SeñorJuan rubbed his hands, thinking of his fame to come. Soothed by itscontemplation, he went back and forth, passing everything in review. 

"That's too much wood for a crane, " he said to a Mongol, who wasdirecting a part of the work. "The three beams that make the tripodand the three joining them would be enough for me. "

"But not for me, " replied the Mongol, with a peculiar smile, "themore ornament, the more imposing the effect. You will see! I shalltrim it, too, with wreaths and streamers. You will say in the endthat you were right to give the work into my hands, and Señor Ibarrawill have nothing left to desire. "

The man smiled still, and Señor Juan laughed and threw back his head. 

In truth, Ibarra's project had found an echo almost everywhere. Thecurate had asked to be a patron and to bless the cornerstone, aceremony that was to take place the last day of the fête, and to beone of its chief solemnities. One of the most conservative papers ofManila had dedicated to Ibarra on its first page an article entitled, "Imitate Him!" He was therein called "the young and rich capitalist, already a marked man, " "the distinguished philanthropist, " "the SpanishFilipino, " and so forth. The students who had come from Manila forthe fête were full of admiration for Ibarra, and ready to take himfor their model. But, as almost always when we try to imitate a manwho towers above the crowd, we ape his weaknesses, if not his faults, many of these admirers of Crisóstomo's held rigorously to the tie ofhis cravat, or the shape of his collar; almost all to the number ofbuttons on his vest. Even Captain Tiago burned with generous emulation, and asked himself if he ought not to build a convent. 

The dark presentiments of old Tasio seemed dissipated. When Ibarra saidso to him, the old pessimist replied: "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. "

Toward evening Captain Tiago arrived from Manila, bringing MariaClara, in honor of the fête, a beautiful reliquary of gold, set withemeralds and diamonds, enshrining a splinter from the fishing-boatof St. Peter. Scarcely had he come when a party of Maria's friendscame to take her out to see the streets. 

"Go, " said Captain Tiago, "but come back soon. Father Dámaso, you know, is to dine with us. You, too, Crisóstomo, must join us. "

"With the greatest pleasure, " stammered Ibarra, avoiding Maria Clara'seyes, "if I did not feel that I must be at home to receive whoevermay come. "

"Bring your friends here; there is always room at my table, " saidCaptain Tiago, somewhat coldly. "I wish Father Dámaso and you to cometo an understanding. "

"There is yet time, " said Ibarra, forcing a smile. 

As they descended to the street, Aunt Isabel following, people movedaside to let them pass. Maria Clara was a vision of loveliness: herpallor had disappeared, and if her eyes remained pensive, her mouthseemed to know only smiles. With the amiability characteristic ofhappy young womanhood she saluted the people she had known as a child, and they smiled back their admiration. In these few days of freedom shehad regained the frank friendliness, the gracious speech, which seemedto have slumbered inside the narrow walls of her convent. She felt anew, intense life within her, and everything without seemed good andbeautiful. She showed her love for Ibarra with that maiden sweetnesswhich comes from pure thoughts and knows no reason for false blushes. 

At regular intervals in the streets were kindled great clusteredlights with bamboo supports, like candelabra. People were beginningto illuminate their houses, and through the open windows one couldsee the guests moving about in the radiance among the flowers tothe music of harp, piano, or orchestra. Outside, in gala costume, native or European, Chinese, Spaniards, and Filipinos were movingin all directions, escaping with difficulty the crush of carriagesand calashes. 

When the party reached Captain Basilio's house, Sinang saw them, and ran down the steps. 

"Come up till I'm ready to go out with you, " she said. "I'm weary ofall these strangers who talk of nothing but cocks and cards. "

The house was full of people. Many came up to greet Crisóstomo, andall admired Maria Clara. "Beautiful as the Virgin!" the old dameswhispered, chewing their buyo. 

Here they must take chocolate. As they were leaving, Captain Basiliosaid in Ibarra's ear:

"Won't you join us this evening? Father Dámaso is going to make upa little purse. "

Ibarra smiled and answered by a movement of the head, which mighthave meant anything. 

Chatting and laughing, the merry party went on past the brilliantlyilluminated houses. At length they came to one fast closed and dark. Itwas the home of the alférez. Maria was astonished. 

"It's that old sorceress. The Muse of the Municipal Guard, as Tasiocalls her, " said Sinang. "Her house is in mourning because the peopleare gay. "

At a corner of the plaza, where a blind man was singing, an uncommonsight offered itself. A man stood there, miserably dressed, hishead covered by a great salakot of palm leaves, which completelyhid his face, though from its shadow two lights gleamed and went outfitfully. He was tall, and, from his figure, young. He pushed forwarda basket, and after speaking some unintelligible words drew back andstood completely isolated. Women passing put fruit and rice into hisbasket, and at this he came forward a little, speaking what seemedto be his thanks. 

Maria Clara felt the presence of some great suffering. "Who is it?" sheasked Iday. 

"It's a leper. He lives outside the pueblo, near the Chinese cemetery;every one fears to go near him. If you could see his cabin! The wind, the rain, and the sun must visit him as they like. "

"Poor man!" murmured Maria Clara, and hardly knowing what she did, she went up and put into the basket the reliquary her father had justgiven her. 

"Maria!" exclaimed her friends. 

"I had nothing else, " she said, forcing back the tears. 

"What will he do with the reliquary? He can't sell it! Nobody willtouch it now! If only it could be eaten!" said Sinang. 

But the leper went to the basket, took the glittering thing in hishands, fell on his knees, kissed it, and bent his head to the ground, uncovering humbly. Maria Clara turned her face to hide the tears. 

As the leper knelt, a woman crept up and knelt beside him. By her long, loose hair and emaciated face the people recognized Sisa. The leper, feeling her touch, sprang up with a cry; but, to the horror of thecrowd, she clung to his arm. 

"Pray! Pray!" said she. "It is the Feast of the Dead! These lightsare the souls of men. Pray for my sons!"

"Separate them! Separate them!" cried the crowd; but no one dareddo it. 

"Do you see the light in the tower? That is my son Basilio, ringingthe bells. Do you see that other in the manse? That is my son Crispin;but I cannot go to them, because the curate is ill, and his money islost. I carried the curate fruit from my garden. My garden was fullof flowers, and I had two sons. I had a garden, I tended my flowers, and I had two sons. "

And leaving the leper she moved away, singing:

"I had a garden and flowers. I had two sons, a garden and flowers. "

"What have you done for that poor woman?" Maria asked Ibarra. 

"Nothing yet, " he replied, somewhat confused. "But don't be troubled;the curate has promised to aid me. "

As they spoke, a soldier came dragging Sisa back, rather than leadingher. She was resisting. 

"Where are you taking her? What has she done?" asked Ibarra. 

"What has she done? Didn't you hear the noise she made?" said theguardian of public tranquillity. 

The leper took up his basket and vanished. Maria Clara asked togo home. She had lost all her gayety. Her sadness increased when, arrived at her door, her fiancé refused to go in. 

"It must be so to-night, " he said as he bade her good-by. 

Maria, mounting the steps, thought how tiresome were fête days, when one must receive so many strangers. 

The next evening a little perfumed note came to Ibarra by the handof Andeng, Maria's foster sister. 

 "Crisóstomo, for a whole day I have not seen you. They tell me you are ill. I have lighted two candles and prayed for you. I'm so tired of being asked to play and dance. I did not know there were so many tiresome people in the world. If Father Dámaso had not tried to amuse me with stories, I should have left them all and gone away to sleep. Write me how you are, and if I shall send papa to see you. I send you Andeng now to make your tea; she will do it better than your servants. If you don't come to-morrow, I shall not go to the ceremony. 

 Maria Clara. "

XXIV. 

IN THE CHURCH. 

The orchestras sounded the reveille at the first rays of the sun, waking with joyous airs the tired inhabitants of the pueblo. 

It was the last day of the fête--indeed, the fête itself. Every oneexpected much more than on the eve, when the Brothers of the SacredRosary had had their sermon and procession; for the Brothers of theThird Order were more numerous, and counted on humiliating theirrivals. The Chinese candle merchants had reaped a rich harvest. 

Everybody put on his gala dress; all the jewels came out of theircoffers; the fops and sporting men wore rows of diamond buttons ontheir shirt fronts, heavy gold chains, and white jipijapa hats, asthe Indians call Panamas. No one but old Tasio was in everyday costume. 

"You seem even sadder than usual, " the lieutenant said to him. "Becausewe have so many reasons to weep, may we not laugh once in a while?"

"Yes, laugh, but not play the fool! It's the same insane orgy everyyear, the same waste of money when there's so much need and so muchsuffering! But I see! It's the orgy, the bacchanal, that is to stillthe lamentations of the poor!"

"You know I share your opinion, " said Don Filipo, half serious, half laughing, "and that I defended it; but what can I do againstthe gobernadorcillo and the curate?"

"Resign!" cries the irate old man, leaving him. 

"Resign!" muttered Don Filipo, going on toward thechurch. "Resign? Yes, certainly, if my post were an honor and nota charge. "

There was a crowd in the parvis, and men, women, and childrenin a stream were coming and going through the narrow doors ofthe church. The smell of powder mingled with that of flowers andincense. Rockets, bombs, and serpents made women run and scream anddelighted the children. An orchestra was playing before the convent;bands accompanied dignitaries on their way to the church, or paradedthe streets under innumerable floating and dipping flags. Light andcolor distracted the eye, music and explosions the ear. 

High mass was about to be celebrated. Among the congregation wereto be the chief alcalde of the province and other Spanish notables;and last, the sermon would be given by Brother Dámaso, who had thegreatest renown as a preacher. 

The church was crammed. People were jostled, crushed, trampled on, andcried out at each encounter. From far they stretched their arms to diptheir fingers in the holy water, but getting nearer, saw its color, andthe hands retired. They scarcely breathed; the heat and atmosphere wereinsupportable; but the preacher was worth the endurance of all thesemiseries; besides, his sermon was to cost the pueblo two hundred andfifty pesos. Fans, hats, and handkerchiefs agitated the air; childrencried, and gave the sacristans a hard enough task getting them out. 

Ibarra was in a corner. Maria Clara knelt near the high altar, wherethe curate had reserved a place for her. Captain Tiago, in frock coat, sat on the bench of authorities, and the children, who did not knowhim, taking him for another gobernadorcillo, dared not go near him. 

At length the alcalde arrived with his suite. He came from thesacristy, and sat down in a splendid fauteuil, beneath which wasspread a rich carpet. He was in full dress, and wore the cordon ofCharles III. , with four or five other decorations. 

"Ha!" cried a countryman. "A citizen in fancy dress!"

"Imbecile!" replied his neighbor. "It's Prince Villardo whom wesaw last night in the play!" And the alcalde, in the character ofgiant-slayer, rose accordingly in the popular estimation. 

Presently those seated arose, those sleeping awoke, the mass hadbegun. Brother Salvi celebrated, attended by two Augustins. At lengthcame the long-looked-for moment of the sermon. The three priestssat down, the alcalde and other notables followed them, the musicceased. The people made themselves as comfortable as possible, thosewho had no benches sitting outright on the pavement, or arrangingthemselves tailor fashion. 

Preceded by two sacristans and followed by another monk, who borea great book, Father Dámaso made his way through the crowd. Hedisappeared a moment in the spiral staircase of the pulpit, thenhis great head reappeared and his herculean bust. He looked over hisaudience, and, the review terminated, said to his companion, hiddenat his feet:

"Attention, brother!"

The monk opened his book. 

XXV. 

THE SERMON. 

The first part of the sermon was to be in Castilian, the remainderin Tagalo. Brother Dámaso began slowly and in ordinary voice:

"Et spiritum tuum bonum dedisti qui docevet eos, et manna tuum nonprohibuisti ab ore eorum, et aquam dedisti eis in siti. Words of theLord spoken by the mouth of Esdras, Book II. , chapter ix. , verse 20. 

"Most worshipful señor (to the alcalde), very reverend priests, brothers in Christ!"

Here an impressive pose and a new glance round the audience, then, his eyes on the alcalde, the father majestically extended his righthand toward the altar, slowly crossed his arms, without saying a word, and, passing from this calm to action, threw back his head, pointedtoward the main entrance, and, impetuously cutting the air with theedge of his hand, began to speak in a voice strong, full, and resonant. 

"Brilliant and splendid is the altar, wide the door, the air is thevehicle of the sacred word which shall spring from my lips. Hear, then, with the ears of the soul and the heart, that the words of theLord may not fall on a stony ground, but that they may grow and shootupward in the field of our seraphic father, St. Francis. You, sinners, captives of those Moors of the soul who infest the seas of the eternallife, in the doughty ships of the flesh and the world; you who rowin the galleys of Satan, behold with reverent compunction him whoredeems souls from the captivity of the demon--the intrepid Gideon, the courageous David, the victorious Roland of Christianity! thecelestial guard, more valiant than all the civil guards of past andfuture. (The alférez frowned. ) Yes, Señor Alférez, more valiant andmore powerful than all! This conqueror, who, without other weaponthan a wooden cross, vanquished the eternal tulisanes of darkness, and would have utterly destroyed them were spirits not immortal. Thismarvel, this incredible phenomenon, is the blessed Diego of Alcala!"

The "rude Indians, " as the correspondents say, fished out of thisparagraph only the words civil guard, tulisane, San Diego, and SanFrancisco. They had noticed the grimace of the alférez and the militantgesture of the preacher, and had from this deduced that the fatherwas angry with the guard for not pursuing the tulisanes, and thatSan Diego and San Francisco had taken upon themselves to do it. Theywere enchanted, not doubting that, the tulisanes once dispersed, St. Francis would also destroy the municipal guard. Their attention, therefore, redoubled. 

The monk continued so long his eulogy of San Diego that his auditors, not even excepting Captain Tiago, began to yawn a little. Thenhe reproached them with living like the Protestants and heretics, who respect not the ministers of God; like the Chinese, for whichcondemnation be upon them!

"What is he telling us, the Palé Lámaso?" murmured the Chinese Carlos, looking angrily at the preacher, who went on improvising a series ofapostrophes and imprecations. 

"You will die in impenitence, race of heretics! Your punishment isalready being meted out to you in jails and prisons. The family and itswomen should flee you; rulers should destroy you. If you have a memberthat causeth you to offend, cut it off and cast it into the fire!"

Brother Dámaso was nervous. He had forgotten his sermon and wasimprovising. Ibarra became restless; he looked about in search ofsome corner, but the church was full. Maria Clara no longer heardthe sermon. She was analyzing a picture of the souls of the "Blessedin Purgatory. "

In the improvisation the monk who played the part of prompter lost hisplace and skipped some paragraphs. The text returned to San Diego, and with a long series of exclamations and contrasts the fatherbrought to a close the first part of his sermon. 

The second part was entirely improvised; not that Brother Dámasoknew Tagalo better than Castilian; but, considering the natives ofthe province entirely ignorant of rhetoric, he did not mind makingerrors before them. Yet the second part of his discourse had forcertain people graver consequences than the first. 

He began with a "Maná capatir concristians, " "My Christian brothers, "followed by an avalanche of untranslatable phrases about thesoul, sin, and the patron saint. Then he launched a new series ofmaledictions against lack of respect and growing irreligion. On thispoint he seemed to be inspired, and expressed himself with force andclearness. He spoke of sinners who die in prison without confessionor the sacraments; of accursed families, of petty students, and oftoy philosophers. 

Ibarra listened and understood. He kept a calm exterior, but his eyesturned toward the bench of magistrates. No one seemed to pay attention;as to the alcalde, he was asleep. 

The inspiration of the preacher increased. He spoke of the earlytimes when every Filipino encountering a priest uncovered, knelt, and kissed his hand. Now, he said, there were those who, because theyhad studied in Manila or in Europe, thought fit to shake the hand ofa priest instead of kissing it. 

But in spite of the cries and gestures of the orator, by this timemany of his auditors slept, and few listened. Some of the devoutwould have wept over the sins of the ungodly, but nobody joined them, and they were forced to give it up. A man seated beside an old womanwent so sound asleep that he fell over against her. The good womantook her slipper and tried to waken him, at the same time crying out:

"Get away! Savage, animal, demon, carabao!"

Naturally this raised a tumult. The preacher elevated his brows, struck dumb by such a scandal; indignation strangled the words inhis throat; he could only strike the pulpit with his fists. This hadits effect. The old woman dropped the shoe and, still grumbling andsigning herself, sank on her knees. 

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" the irate priest could at last articulate. "It is forthis that I have preached to you all the morning! Savages! You respectnothing! Behold the work of the incontinence of the century!" Andlaunched again upon this theme, he preached a half hour longer. Thealcalde breathed loud. Maria Clara, having studied all the pictures insight, had dropped her head. Crisóstomo had ceased to be moved by thesermon. He was picturing a little house, high up among the mountains, with Maria Clara in the garden. Why concern himself with men, draggingout their lives in the miserable pueblos of the valley?

At length the sermon ended, and the mass went on. At the momentwhen all were kneeling and the priests bowed their heads at the"Incarnatus est, " a man murmured in Ibarra's ear: "At the blessingof the cornerstone do not separate yourself from the curate; do notgo down into the trench. Your life is at stake!"

It was the helmsman. 

XXVI. 

THE CRANE. 

It was indeed not an ordinary crane that the Mongol had built forletting the enormous cornerstone of the school into the trench. Theframework was complicated and the cables passed over extraordinarypulleys. Flags, streamers, and garlands of flowers, however, hid themechanism. By means of a cleverly contrived capstan, the enormousstone held suspended over the open trench could be raised or loweredwith ease by a single man. 

"See!" said the Mongol to Señor Juan, inserting the bar and turningit. "See how I can manipulate the thing up here and unaided!"

Señor Juan was full of admiration. 

"Who taught you mechanics?" he asked. 

"My father, my late father, " replied the man, with his peculiar smile, "and Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisóstomo, taught him. "

"You must know then about Don Saturnino----"

"Oh, many things! Not only did he beat his workmen and expose themto the sun, but he knew how to awaken sleepers and put waking men tosleep. Ah, you will see presently what he could teach! You will see!"

On a table with Persian spread, beside the trench, were the thingsto be put into the cornerstone, and the glass box and leaden cylinderwhich were to preserve for the future these souvenirs, this mummy ofan epoch. 

Under two long booths near at hand were sumptuous tables, one for theschool-children, without wine, and heaped with fruits; the other forthe distinguished visitors. The booths were joined by a sort of bowerof leafy branches, where were chairs for the musicians, and tables withcakes, confitures, and carafes of water, for the public in general. 

The crowd, gay in garments of many colors, was massed under the treesto avoid the ardent rays of the sun, and the children, to better seethe ceremony of the dedication, had climbed up among the branches. 

Soon bands were heard in the distance. The Mongol carefully examinedhis construction; he seemed nervous. A man with the appearance of apeasant standing near him on the edge of the excavation and closebeside the capstan watched all his movements. It was Elias, welldisguised by his salakot and rustic costume. 

The musicians arrived, preceded by a crowd of old and young in motleyarray. Behind came the alcalde, the municipal guard officers, themonks, and the Spanish Government clerks. Ibarra was talking withthe alcalde; Captain Tiago, the alférez, the curate and a number ofthe rich country gentlemen accompanied the ladies, whose gay parasolsgleamed in the sunshine. 

As they approached the trench, Ibarra felt his heartbeat. Instinctively he raised his eyes to the strange scaffolding. TheMongol saluted him respectfully, and looked at him intently amoment. Ibarra recognized Elias through his disguise, and themysterious helmsman, by a significant glance, recalled the warningin the church. 

The curate put on his robes and began the office. The one-eyedsacristan held his book; a choir boy had in charge the holy waterand sprinkler. The men uncovered, and the crowd stood so silent that, though the father read low, his voice was heard to tremble. 

The manuscripts, journals, money, and medals to be preserved inremembrance of this day had been placed in the glass box and the boxitself hermetically sealed within the leaden cylinder. 

"Señor Ibarra, will you place the box in the stone? The curate iswaiting for you, " said the alcalde in Ibarra's ear. 

"I should do so with great pleasure, " said Ibarra, "but it would bea usurpation of the honor; that belongs to the notary, who must drawup the written process. "

The notary gravely took the box, descended the carpeted stairway whichled to the bottom of the trench, and with due solemnity depositedhis burden in the hollow of the stone already laid. The curate tookthe sprinkler and sprinkled the stone with holy water. 

Each one was now to deposit his trowel of cement on the surface ofthe lower stone, to seal it to the stone held suspended by the cranewhen that should be lowered. 

Ibarra offered the alcalde a silver trowel, on which was engravedthe date of the fête, but before using it His Excellency pronounceda short allocution in Castilian. 

"Citizens of San Diego, " he said, "we have the honor of presidingat a ceremony whose importance you know without explanations. We arefounding a school, and the school is the basis of society, the bookwherein is written the future of each race. 

"Citizens of San Diego! Thank God, who has given you thesepriests! Thank the Mother Country, who spreads civilization in thesefertile isles and protects them with the covering of her gloriousmantle. Thank God, again, who has enlightened you by his priests fromhis divine Word. 

"And now that the first stone of this building has been blessed, we, the alcalde of this province, in the name of His Majesty the King, whom God guard; in the name of the illustrious Spanish Government, and under the protection of its spotless and ever-victorious flag, consecrate this act and begin the building of this school!

"Citizens of San Diego, long live the king! Long live Spain! Longlive the religious orders! Long live the Catholic church!"

"Long live the Señor Alcalde!" replied many voices. 

Then the high official descended majestically, to the strains of theorchestras, put his trowel of cement on the stone, and came back asmajestically as he had gone down. 

The Government clerks applauded. 

Ibarra offered the trowel to the curate, who descended slowly in histurn. In the middle of the staircase he raised his eyes to the greatstone suspended above, but he stopped only a second, and continuedthe descent. This time the applause was a little warmer, CaptainTiago and the monks adding theirs to that of the clerks. 

The notary followed. He gallantly offered the trowel to Maria Clara, but she refused, with a smile. The monks, the alférez, and othersdescended in turn, Captain Tiago not being forgotten. 

Ibarra was left. He had ordered the stone to be lowered when thecurate remembered him. 

"You do not put on your trowelful, Señor Ibarra?" said the curate, with a familiar and jocular air. 

"I should be Juan Palomo, who made the soup and then ate it, " repliedCrisóstomo in the same light tone. 

"You go down, of course, " said the alcalde, taking him by the armin friendly fashion. "If not, I shall order that the stone be keptsuspended, and we shall stay here till the Day of Judgment!"

Such a menace forced Ibarra to obey. He exchanged the silver trowelfor a larger one of iron, as some people noticed, and started outcalmly. Elias gave him an indefinable look; his whole being seemedin it. The Mongol's eyes were on the abyss at his feet. 

Ibarra, after glancing rapidly at the block over his head, at Elias, and at the Mongol, said to Señor Juan, in a voice that trembled:

"Give me the tray and bring me the other trowel. "

He stood alone. Elias no longer looked at him, his eyes were rivetedon the hands of the Mongol, who, bending over, was anxiously followingthe movements of Ibarra. Then the sound of Ibarra's trowel was heard, accompanied by the low murmur of the clerks' voices as they felicitatedthe alcalde on his speech. 

Suddenly a frightful noise rent the air. A pulley attached to thebase of the crane sprang out, dragging after it the capstan, whichstruck the crane like a lever. The beams tottered, the cables broke, and the whole fabric collapsed with a deafening roar and in a whirlwindof dust. 

A thousand voices filled the place with cries of horror. People fledin all directions. Only Maria Clara and Brother Salvi remained wherethey were, pale, mute, incapable of motion. 

As the cloud of dust thinned, Ibarra was seen upright among the beams, joists and cables, between the capstan and the great stone that hadfallen. He still held the trowel in his hand. With eyes frightful tolook at, he regarded a corpse half buried under the beams at his feet. 

"Are you unhurt? Are you alive? For God's sake, speak!" cried someone at last. 

"A miracle! A miracle!" cried others. 

"Come, take out the body of this man, " said Ibarra, as if waking froma dream. At the sound of his voice Maria Clara would have fallen butfor the arms of her friends. 

Then everything was confusion. All talked at once, gestured, wenthither and thither, and knew not what to do. 

"Who is killed?" demanded the alférez. 

"Arrest the head builder!" were the first words the alcalde couldpronounce. 

They brought up the body and examined it. It was that of theMongol. The heart no longer beat. 

The priests shook Ibarra's hand, and warmly congratulated him. 

"When I think that I was there a moment before!" said one of theclerks. 

"It is well they gave the trowel to you instead of me, " said atrembling old man. 

"Don Pascal!" cried some of the Spaniards. 

"Señores, the Señor Ibarra lives, while I, if I had not been crushed, should have died of fright. "

Ibarra had been to inform himself of Maria Clara. 

"Let the fête continue, Señor Ibarra, " said the alcalde, as he cameback. "Thank God, the dead is neither priest nor Spaniard! You oughtto celebrate your escape! What if the stone had fallen on you!"

"He had presentiments!" cried the notary. "He did not want to go down, that was plain to be seen!"

"It's only an Indian!"

"Let the fête go on! Give us music! Mourning won't raise thedead. Captain, let the inquest be held! Arrest the head builder!"

"Shall he be put in the stocks?"

"Yes, in the stocks! Music, music! The head builder in the stocks!"

"Señor Alcalde, " said Ibarra, "if mourning won't raise the dead, neither will the imprisonment of a man whose guilt is not proven. Igo security for his person and ask his liberty, for these fête daysat least. "

"Very well! But let him not repeat it!" said the alcalde. 

All kinds of rumors circulated among the people. The idea of a miraclewas generally accepted. Many said they had seen descend into thetrench at the fatal moment a figure in a dark costume, like that ofthe Franciscans. 'Twas no doubt San Diego himself. 

"A bad beginning, " muttered old Tasio, shaking his head as he movedaway. 

XXVII. 

FREE THOUGHT. 

Ibarra, who had gone home for a change of clothing, had just finisheddressing when a servant announced that a peasant wished to seehim. Supposing it to be one of his laborers, he had him taken tohis work room, which was at the same time his library and chemicallaboratory. To his great surprise he found himself face to face withthe mysterious Elias. 

"You saved my life, " said the man, speaking in Tagalo, andunderstanding the movement of Ibarra. "I have not half paid mydebt. Do not thank me. It is I who should thank you. I have come toask a favor. "

"Speak!" said his listener. 

Elias fixed his melancholy eyes on Ibarra's and went on:

"When the justice of man tries to clear up this mystery, and yourtestimony is taken, I entreat you not to speak to any one of thewarning I gave you. "

"Do not be alarmed, " said Crisóstomo, losing interest; "I know youare pursued, but I'm not an informer. "

"I don't speak for myself, but for you, " said Elias, with somehaughtiness. "I have no fear of men. "

Ibarra grew surprised. This manner of speaking was new, and did notcomport with the state or fortunes of the helmsman. 

"Explain yourself!" he demanded. 

"I am not speaking enigmas. To insure your safety, it is necessarythat your enemies believe you blind and confiding. "

"To insure my safety?" said Ibarra, thoroughly aroused. 

"You undertake a great enterprise, " Elias went on. "You havea past. Your grandfather and your father had enemies. It is notcriminals who provoke the most hatred; it is honorable men. "

"You know my enemies, then?"

Elias hesitated. 

"I knew one; the dead man. "

"I regret his death, " said Ibarra; "from him I might have learnedmore. "

"Had he lived, he would have escaped the trembling hand of men'sjustice. God has judged him!"

"Do you also believe in the miracle of which the people talk?"

"If I believed in such a miracle, I should not believe in God, and Ibelieve in Him; I have more than once felt His hand. At the moment whenthe scaffolding gave way I placed myself beside the criminal. " Eliaslooked at Ibarra. 

"You--you mean that you----"

"Yes, when his deadly work was about to be done, he was going to flee;I held him there; I had seen his crime! Let God be the only one whohas the right over life!"

"And yet, this time you----"

"No!" cried Elias. "I exposed the criminal to the risk he had preparedfor others; I ran the risk myself; and I did not strike him; I lefthim to be struck by the hand of God!"

Ibarra regarded the man in silence. 

"You are not a peasant, " he said at last. "Who are you? Have youstudied?"

"I've need of much belief in God, since I've lost faith in men, "said Elias, evading the question. 

"But God cannot speak to resolve each of the countless contests ourpassions raise; it is necessary, it is just, that man should sometimesjudge his kind. "

"For good, yes; not for evil. To correct and ameliorate, not todestroy; because, if man's judgments are erroneous, he has not thepower to remedy the evil he has done. But this discussion is over myhead, and I am detaining you. Do not forget what I came to entreat;save yourself for the good of your country!" And he started to go. 

"And when shall I see you again?"

"Whenever you wish; whenever I can be of use to you; I am alwaysyour debtor!"

XXVIII. 

THE BANQUET. 

All the distinguished people of the province were united in thecarpeted and decorated booth. The alcalde was at one end of the table, Ibarra at the other. The talk was animated, even gay. The meal washalf finished when a despatch was handed to Captain Tiago. He askedpermission to read it; his face paled; then lighted up. "Señores, "he cried, quite beside himself, "His Excellency the captain-generalis to honor my house with his presence!" And he started off running, carrying his despatch and his napkin, forgetting his hat, and pursuedby exclamations and questions. The announcement of the tulisanescould not have put him to greater confusion. 

"Wait a moment! When is he coming? Tell us?"

Captain Tiago was already in the distance. 

"His Excellency asks the hospitality of Captain Tiago!" the guestsexclaimed, apparently forgetting that they spoke before his daughterand his future son-in-law. 

"He could hardly make a better choice, " said Ibarra, with dignity. 

"This was spoken of yesterday, " said the alcalde, "but His Excellencyhad not fully decided. "

"Do you know how long he is to stay?" asked the alférez, uneasily. 

"I'm not at all sure! His Excellency is fond of surprising people. "

Three other despatches were brought. They were for the alcalde, thealférez, and the gobernadorcillo, and identical, announcing the comingof the governor. It was remarked that there was none for the curate. 

"His Excellency arrives at four this afternoon, " said the alcalde, solemnly. "We can finish our repast. " It might have been Leonidassaying: "To-night we sup with Pluto!"

The conversation returned to its former course. 

"I notice the absence of our great preacher, " said one of the clerks, an honest, inoffensive fellow, who had not yet said a word. Thosewho knew the story of Ibarra's father looked significantly at oneanother. "Fools rush in, " said the glances of some; but others, more considerate, tried to cover the error. 

"He must be somewhat fatigued----"

"Somewhat!" cried the alférez. "He must be spent, as they say here, malunqueado. What a sermon!"

"Superb! Herculean!" was the opinion of the notary. 

"Magnificent! Profound!" said a newspaper correspondent. 

In the other booth the children were more noisy than little Filipinosare wont to be, for at table or before strangers they are usuallyrather too timid than too bold. If one of them did not eat withpropriety, his neighbor corrected him. To one a certain article wasa spoon; to others a fork or a knife; and as nobody settled theirquestions, they were in continual uproar. 

Their fathers and mothers, simple peasants, looked in ravishment tosee their children eating on a white cloth, and doing it almost as wellas the curate or the alcalde. It was better to them than a banquet. 

"Yes, " said a young peasant woman to an old man grinding his buyo, "whatever my husband says, my Andoy shall be a priest. It is true, we are poor; but Father Mateo says Pope Sixtu was once a keeperof carabaos at Batanzas! Look at my Andoy; hasn't he a face likeSt. Vincent?" and the good mother's mouth watered at the sight ofher son with his fork in both hands!

"God help us!" said the old man, munching his sapa. "If Andoy getsto be pope, we will go to Rome! I can walk yet! Ho! Ho!"

Another peasant came up. 

"It's decided, neighbor, " he said, "my son is to be a doctor. "

"A doctor! Don't speak of it!" replied Petra. "There's nothinglike being a curate! He has only to make two or three turns and say'déminos pabiscum' and he gets his money. "

"And isn't it work to confess?"

"Work! Think of the trouble we take to find out the affairs ofour neighbors! The curate has only to sit down, and they tell himeverything!"

"And preaching? Don't you call that work?"

"Preaching? Where is your head? To scold half a day from the pulpitwithout any one's daring to reply and be paid for it into thebargain! Look, look at Father Dámaso! See how fat he gets with hisshouting and pounding!"

In truth, Father Dámaso was that moment passing the children's booth inthe gait peculiar to men of his size. As he entered the other booth, he was half smiling, but so maliciously that at sight of it Ibarra, who was talking, lost the thread of his speech. 

The guests were astonished to see the father, but every one exceptIbarra received him with signs of pleasure. They were at the dessert, and the champagne was sparkling in the cups. 

Father Dámaso's smile became nervous when he saw Maria Clara sittingnext Crisóstomo, but, taking a chair beside the alcalde, he said inthe midst of a significant silence:

"You were talking of something, señores; continue!"

"We had come to the toasts, " said the alcalde. "Señor Ibarra wasmentioning those who had aided him in his philanthropic enterprise, and he was speaking of the architect when your reverence----"

"Ah, well! I know nothing about architecture, " interrupted FatherDámaso, "but I scorn architects and the simpletons who make useof them. "

"Nevertheless, " said the alcalde, as Ibarra was silent, "when certainbuildings are in question, like a school, for example, an expertis needed----"

"An expert!" cried the father, with sarcasm. "One needs be morestupid than the Indians, who build their own houses, not to know howto raise four walls and put a roof on them. Nothing else is neededfor a school!"

Every one looked at Ibarra, but, though he grew a little pale, hepursued his conversation with Maria Clara. 

"But does your reverence consider----"

"See here!" continued the Franciscan, again cutting off thealcalde. "See how one of our lay brothers, the most stupid one wehave, built a hospital. He paid the workmen eight cuartos a day, and got them from other pueblos, too. Not much like these youngfeather-brains who ruin workmen, paying them three or four réales!"

"Does your reverence say he paid but eight cuartos? Impossible!" saidthe alcalde, hoping to change the course of the conversation. 

"Yes, señor, and so should those do who pride themselves upon beinggood Spaniards. Since the opening of the Suez Canal, corruption hasreached even here! When the Cape had to be doubled, not so many ruinedmen came here, and fewer went abroad to ruin themselves!"

"But Father Dámaso----"

"You know the Indian; as soon as he has learned anything, he takesa title. All these beardless youths who go to Europe----"

"But, your reverence, listen----" began the alcalde, alarmed by theharshness of these words. 

"Finish as they merit, " continued the priest. "The hand of God is init; he is blind who does not see that. Already even the fathers ofthese reptiles receive their chastisement; they die in prison! Ah----"

He did not finish. Ibarra, livid, had been watching him. At these wordshe rose, gave one bound, and struck out with his strong hand. The monk, stunned by the blow, fell backward. 

Surprised and terrified, not one of the spectators moved. 

"Let no one come near!" said the young man in a terrible voice, drawing his slender blade, and holding the neck of the priest withhis foot. "Let no one come, unless he wishes to die. "

Ibarra was beside himself, his whole body trembled, his threateningeyes were big with rage. Father Dámaso, regaining his senses, madean effort to rise, but Crisóstomo, grasping his neck, shook him tillhe had brought him to his knees. 

"Señor de Ibarra! Señor de Ibarra!" stammered one and another. Butnobody, not even the alférez, risked a movement. They saw the knifeglitter; they calculated Crisóstomo's strength, unleashed by anger;they were paralyzed. 

"All you here, you have said nothing. Now it rests with me. I avoidedhim; God brings him to me. Let God judge!"

Ibarra breathed with effort, but his arm of iron kept harsh hold ofthe Franciscan, who struggled in vain to free himself. 

"My heart beats true, my hand is firm----" And he looked about him. 

"I ask you first, is there among you any one who has not loved hisfather, who has not loved his father's memory; any one born in shameand abasement? See, hear this silence! Priest of a God of peace, thymouth full of sanctity and religion, thy heart of corruption! Thoucanst not know what it is to be a father; thou shouldst have thoughtof thy own! See, in all this crowd that you scorn there is not onelike you! You are judged!"

The guests, believing he was going to strike, made their firstmovement. 

"Do not come near us!" he cried again in the same threateningvoice. "What? You fear I shall stain my hand in impure blood? Did I nottell you that my heart beats true? Away from us, and listen, priests, believing yourselves different from other men, giving yourselves otherrights! My father was an honorable man. Ask the country which venerateshis memory. My father was a good citizen, who sacrificed himself forme and for his country's good. His house was open, his table set forthe stranger or the exile who should turn to him! He was a Christian;always doing good, never pressing the weak, nor forcing tears fromthe wretched. As to this man, he opened his door to him, made himsit down at his table, and called him friend. And how did the manrespond? He falsely accused him; he pursued him; he armed ignoranceagainst him! Confiding in the sanctity of his office, he outraged histomb, dishonored his memory; his hate troubled even the rest of thedead. And not yet satisfied, he now pursues the son. I fled from him, avoided his presence. You heard him this morning profane the chair, point me out to the people's fanaticism; but I said nothing. Now, he comes here to seek a quarrel; I suffer in silence, until he againinsults a memory sacred to all sons. 

"You who are here, priests, magistrates, have you seen your oldfather give himself for you, part from you for your good, die ofgrief in a prison, looking for your embrace, looking for consolationfrom any one who would bring it, sick, alone; while you in a foreignland? Then have you heard his name dishonored, found his tomb emptywhen you went there to pray? No? You are silent; then you condemn him!"

He raised his arm. But a girl, rapid as light, threw herself betweenhim and the priest, and with her fragile hands held the avengingarm. It was Maria Clara. Ibarra looked at her with eyes like amadman's. Then, little by little, his tense fingers relaxed; he letfall the knife, and, covering his face with his hands, he fled. 

XXIX. 

OPINIONS. 

The noise of the affair spread rapidly. At first no one believed it, but when there was no longer room for doubt, each made his comments, according to the degree of his moral elevation. 

"Father Dámaso is dead, " said some. "When he was carried away, hisface was congested with blood, and he no longer breathed. "

"May he rest in peace, but he has only paid his debt!" said a youngstranger. 

"Why do you say that?"

"One of us students who came from Manila for the fête left the churchwhen the sermon in Tagalo began, saying it was Greek to him. FatherDámaso sent for him afterward, and they came to blows. "

"Are we returning to the times of Nero?" asked another student. 

"You mistake, " replied the first. "Nero was an artist, and FatherDámaso is a jolly poor preacher!"

The men of more years talked otherwise. 

"To say which was wrong and which right is not easy, " said thegobernadorcillo, "and yet, if Señor Ibarra had been more moderate----"

"You probably mean, if Father Dámaso had shown half the moderation ofSeñor Ibarra, " interrupted Don Filipo. "The pity is that the rôleswere interchanged: the youth conducted himself like an old man, and the old man like a youth. "

"And you say nobody but the daughter of Captain Tiago came betweenthem? Not a monk, nor the alcalde?" asked Captain Martin. "I wouldn'tlike to be in the young man's shoes. None of those who were afraidof him will ever forgive him. Hah, that's the worst of it!"

"You think so?" demanded Captain Basilio, with interest. 

"I hope, " said Don Filipo, exchanging glances with Captain Basilio, "that the pueblo isn't going to desert him. His friends at least----"

"But, señores, " interrupted the gobernadorcillo, "what can wedo? What can the pueblo? Whatever happens, the monks are always inthe right----"

"They are always in the right, because we always say they're in theright. Let us say we are in the right for once, and then we shallhave something to talk about!"

The gobernadorcillo shook his head. 

"Ah, the young blood!" he said. "You don't seem to know what countryyou live in; you don't know your compatriots. The monks are rich;they are united; we are poor and divided. Try to defend him and youwill see how you are left to compromise yourself alone!"

"Yes, " cried Don Filipo bitterly, "and it will be so as long as fearand prudence are supposed to be synonymous. Each thinks of himself, nobody of any one else; that is why we are weak!"

"Very well! Think of others and see how soon the others will letyou hang!"

"I've had enough of it!" cried the exasperated lieutenant. "I shallgive my resignation to the alcalde to-day. "

The women had still other thoughts. 

"Aye!" said one of them. "Young people are always the same. If hisgood mother were living, what would she say? When I think that my son, who is a young hothead, too, might have done the same thing----"

"I'm not with you, " said another woman. "I should have nothing againstmy two sons if they did as Don Crisóstomo. "

"What are you saying, Capitana Maria?" cried the first woman, claspingher hands. 

"I'm a poor stupid, " said a third, the Capitana Tinay, "but I knowwhat I'm going to do. I'm going to tell my son not to study anymore. They say men of learning all die on the gallows. Holy Mary, and my son wants to go to Europe!"

"If I were rich as you, my children should travel, " said the CapitanaMaria. "Our sons ought to aspire to be more than their fathers. Ihave not long to live, and we shall meet again in the other world. "

"Your ideas, Capitana Maria, are little Christian, " said SisterRufa severely. "Make yourself a sister of the Sacred Rosary, or ofSt. Francis. "

"Sister Rufa, when I'm a worthy sister of men, I will think aboutbeing a sister of the saints, " said the capitana, smiling. 

Under the booth where the children had their feast the father of theone who was to be a doctor was talking. 

"What troubles me most, " said he, "is that the school will not befinished; my son will not be a doctor, but a carter. "

"Who said there wouldn't be a school?"

"I say so. The White Fathers have called Don Crisóstomoplibastiero. There won't be any school. "

The peasants questioned each other's faces. The word was new to them. 

"And is that a bad name?" one at last ventured to ask. 

"It's the worst one Christian can give another. "

"Worse than tarantado and saragate?"

"If it weren't, it wouldn't amount to much. "

"Come now. It can't be worse than indio, as the alférez says. "

He whose son was to be a carter looked gloomy. The other shook hishead and reflected. 

"Then is it as bad as betalapora, that the old woman of the alférezsays?"

"You remember the word ispichoso (suspect), which had only to be saidof a man to have the guards lead him off to prison? Well, plibastierois worse yet; if any one calls you plibastiero, you can confess andpay your debts, for there's nothing else left to do but get yourselfhanged. That's what the telegrapher and the sub-director say, andyou know whether the telegrapher and the sub-director ought to know:one talks with iron wires, and the other knows Spanish, and handlesnothing but the pen. "

The last hope fled. 

XXX. 

THE FIRST CLOUD. 

The home of Captain Tiago was naturally not less disturbed than theminds of the crowd. Maria Clara refused to be comforted by her auntand her foster-sister. Her father had forbidden her to speak toCrisóstomo until the ban of excommunication should be raised. 

In the midst of his preparations for receiving the governor-generalCaptain Tiago was summoned to the convent. 

"Don't cry, my child, " said Aunt Isabel, as she polished the mirrorswith a chamois skin, "the ban will be raised. They will write to theholy father. We will make a big offering. Father Dámaso only fainted;he isn't dead!"

"Don't cry, " whispered Andeng; "I will arrange to meet Crisóstomo. "

At last Captain Tiago came back. They scanned his face for answers tomany questions; but the face of Captain Tiago spoke discouragement. Thepoor man passed his hand across his brow and seemed unable to framea word. 

"Well, Santiago?" demanded the anxious aunt. 

He wiped away a tear and replied by a sigh. 

"Speak, for heaven's sake! What is it?"

"What I all the time feared, " he said at last, conquering histears. "Everything is lost! Father Dámaso orders me to break thepromise of marriage. They all say the same thing, even Father Sibyla. Imust shut the doors of my house to him, and--I owe him more than fiftythousand pesos! I told the fathers so, but they wouldn't take it intoaccount. 'Which would you rather lose, ' they said, 'fifty thousandpesos or your soul?' Ah, St. Anthony, if I had known, if I had known!"

Maria Clara was sobbing. 

"Don't cry, my child, " he said, turning to her; "you aren't like yourmother; she never cried. Father Dámaso told me that a young friendof his is coming from Spain; he intends him for your fiancé----"

Maria Clara stopped her ears. 

"But, Santiago, are you mad?" cried Aunt Isabel. "Speak to her ofanother fiancé now? Do you think your daughter changes them as shedoes her gloves?"

"I have thought about it, Isabel; but what would you have me do? Theythreaten me, too, with excommunication. "

"And you do nothing but distress your daughter! Aren't you the friendof the archbishop? Why don't you write to him?"

"The archbishop is a monk, too. He will do only what the monks say. Butdon't cry, Maria; the governor-general is coming. He will want tosee you, and your eyes will be red. Alas, I thought I was going tohave such a good afternoon! Without this misfortune I should be thehappiest of men, with everybody envying me! Be calm, my child, I ammore unhappy than you, and I don't cry. You may find a better fiancé;but as for me, I lose fifty thousand pesos! Ah, Virgin of Antipolo, if only I have luck tonight!"

Salvos, the sound of wheels and of horses galloping, the bandplaying the Royal March, announced the arrival of His Excellency thegovernor-general of the Philippine Islands. Maria Clara ran to hidein her chamber. Poor girl! Her heart was at the mercy of rude handsthat had no sense of its delicate fibres. 

While the house was filling with people, while heavy footsteps, words of command, and the hurling of sabres and spurs resounded allabout, the poor child, heart-broken, was half-lying, half-kneelingbefore that picture of the Virgin where Delaroche represents her in agrievous solitude, as though he had surprised her returning from thesepulchre of her son. Maria Clara did not think of the grief of thismother; she thought only of her own. Her head bent on her breast, her hands pressed against the floor, she seemed a lily broken bythe storm. A future for years caressed in dreams, illusions born inchildhood, fostered in youth, grown a part of her being, they thoughtto shatter all these with a word, to drive it all out of her mindand heart. A devout Catholic, a loving daughter, the excommunicationterrified her. Not so much her father's commands as her desire forhis peace of mind demanded from her the sacrifice of her love. Andin this moment she felt for the first time the full strength of heraffection for Crisóstomo. The peaceful river glides over its sandy bedunder the nodding flowers along its banks; the wind scarcely ridgesits current; it seems to sleep; but farther down the banks close in, rough rocks choke the channel, a heap of knotty trunks forms a dyke;then the river roars, revolts, its waters whirl, and shake theirplumes of spray, and, raging, beat the rocks and rush on madly. Sothis tranquil love was now transformed and the tempests were let loose. 

She would have prayed; but who can pray without hope? "O God!" herheart complained. "Why refuse a man the love of others? Thou givesthim the sunshine and the air; thou dost not hide from him the sightof heaven. Why take away that love without which he cannot live?"

The poor child, who had never known a mother of her own, had broughther grief to that pure heart which knew only filial and maternallove, to that divine image of womanhood of whose tenderness we dream, whom we call Mary. 

"Mother, mother!" she sobbed. 

Aunt Isabel came to find her; her friends were there, and thegovernor-general had asked for her. 

"Dear aunt, tell them I am ill!" she begged in terror. "They willwant me to play and sing!"

"Your father has promised. Would you make your father break his word?"

Maria Clara rose, looked at her aunt, threw out her beautiful arms witha sob, then stood still till she was outwardly calm, and went to obey. 

XXXI. 

HIS EXCELLENCY. 

"I want to talk with that young man, " said the general to one of hisaids; "he rouses all my interest. "

"He has been sent for, my general; but there is here another youngman of Manila who insists upon seeing you. We told him you have notthe time; that you did not come to give audiences. He replied thatYour Excellency has always the time to do justice. "

The general, perplexed, turned to the alcalde. 

"If I am not mistaken, " said the alcalde, with an inclination of thehead, "it is a student who this morning had trouble with Father Dámasoabout the sermon. "

"Another still? Has this monk started out to put the province torevolt, or does he think he commands here? Admit the young man!" Andthe governor got up and walked nervously back and forth. 

In the ante-chamber some Spanish officers and all the functionaries ofthe pueblo were talking in groups. All the monks, too, except FatherDámaso, had come to pay their respects to the governor. 

"His Excellency begs your reverences to attend a moment, " said theaide-de-camp. "Enter, young man!"

The young Manilian who confounded the Tagalo with the Greek entered, trembling. 

Every one was greatly astonished. His Excellency must be much annoyedto make the monks wait this way. Said Brother Sibyla:

"I have nothing to say to him, and I'm wasting my time here. "

"I also, " said an Augustin. "Shall we go?"

"Would it not be better to find out what he thinks?" asked BrotherSalvi. "We should avoid a scandal, and we could remind him--of hisduty----"

"Your reverences may enter, " said the aid, conducting back the youngman, who came out radiant. 

The fathers went in and saluted the governor. 

"Who among your reverences is the Brother Dámaso?" demanded HisExcellency at once, without asking them to be seated or inquiring fortheir health, and without any of those complimentary phrases whichform the repertory of dignitaries. 

"Señor, Father Dámaso is not with us, " replied Father Sibyla, in atone almost as dry. 

"Your Excellency's servant is ill, " added the humble Brother Salvi. "Wecome, after saluting Your Excellency and inquiring for his health, to speak in the name of Your Excellency's respectful servant, whohas had the misfortune----"

"Oh!" interrupted the captain-general, with a nervous smile, while hetwirled a chair on one leg. "If all the servants of my Excellency werelike the Father Dámaso, I should prefer to serve my Excellency myself!"

Their reverences did not seem to know what to reply. 

"Won't your reverences sit down?" added the governor in moreconventional tone. 

Captain Tiago, in evening dress and walking on tiptoe, came in, leading by the hand Maria Clara, hesitating, timid. Overcoming heragitation, she made her salute, at once ceremonial and graceful. 

"This sigñorita is your daughter!" exclaimed the surprisedgovernor. "Happy the fathers whose daughters are like you, sigñorita. They have told me about you, and I wish to thank you in thename of His Majesty the King, who loves the peace and tranquillityof his subjects, and in my own name, in that of a father who hasdaughters. If there is anything you would wish, sigñorita----"

"Señor!" protested Maria, trembling. 

"The Señor Don Juan Crisóstomo Ibarra awaits Your Excellency's orders, "announced the ringing voice of the aide-de-camp. 

"Permit me, sigñorita, to see you again before I leave the pueblo. Ihave yet things to say to you. Señor acalde, Your Highness willaccompany me on the walk I wish to take after the private conferenceI shall have with the Señor Ibarra. "

"Your Excellency, " said Father Salvi humbly, "will permit us to informhim that the Señor Ibarra is excommunicated----"

The general broke in. 

"I am happy, " he said, "in being troubled about nothing but the stateof Father Dámaso. I sincerely desire his complete recovery, for, at his age, a voyage to Spain in search of health would be somewhatdisagreeable. But all depends upon him. Meanwhile, God preserve thehealth of your reverences!"

All retired. 

"In his own case also everything depends upon him, " murmured BrotherSalvi as he went out. 

"We shall see who makes the earliest voyage to Spain!" added anotherFranciscan. 

"I shall go immediately, " said Father Sibyla, in vexation. 

"We, too, " grumbled the Augustins. 

Both parties bore it ill that for the fault of a Franciscan HisExcellency should have received them so coldly. 

In the ante-chamber they encountered Ibarra, who a few hours beforehad been their host. There was no exchange of greetings, but therewere eloquent looks. The alcalde, on the contrary, gave Ibarra hishand. On the threshold Crisóstomo met Maria coming out. Looks spokeagain, but very differently this time. 

Though this encounter with the monks had seemed to him of bad augury, Ibarra presented himself in the utmost calm. He bowed profoundly. Thecaptain-general came forward. 

"It gives me the greatest satisfaction, Señor Ibarra, to take youby the hand. I hope for your entire confidence. " And he examined theyoung man with evident satisfaction. 

"Señor, so much kindness----"

"Your surprise shows that you did not expect a friendly reception;that was to doubt my fairness. "

"A friendly reception, señor, for an insignificant subject of HisMajesty, like myself, is not fairness, but favor. "

"Well, well!" said the general, sitting down and motioning Crisóstomoto a seat. "Let us have a moment of open hearts. I am much gratifiedby what you are doing, and have proposed you to the Government ofHis Majesty for a decoration in recompense for your project of theschool. Had you invited me, I should have found it a pleasure to behere for the ceremony. Perhaps I should have been able to save you anannoyance. But as to what happened between you and Father Dámaso, haveneither fear nor regrets. Not a hair of your head shall be harmed solong as I govern the islands; and in regard to the excommunication, I will talk with the archbishop. We must conform ourselves to ourcircumstances. We cannot laugh at it here, as we might in Europe. Butbe more prudent in the future. You have weighted yourself with thereligious orders, who, from their office and their wealth, mustbe respected. I protect you, because I like a good son. By heaven, I don't know what I should have done in your place!"

Then, quickly changing the subject, he said:

"They tell me you have just returned from Europe. You were in Madrid?"

"Yes, señor, several months. "

"How happens it that you return without bringing me a letter ofrecommendation?"

"Señor, " replied Ibarra, bowing, "because, having heard there of thecharacter of Your Excellency, I thought a letter of recommendationwould not only be unnecessary, but might even offend you; the Filipinosare all recommended to you. "

A smile curled the lips of the old soldier, who replied slowly, as though meditating and weighing his words:

"I cannot help being flattered that you think so. And yet, youngman, you should know what a weight rests on our shoulders. Here weold soldiers have to be all--king, ministers of state, of war, ofjustice, of everything; and yet, in every event, we have to consultthe far-off mother country, which often must approve or reject ourpropositions with blind justice. If in Spain itself, with the advantageof everything near and familiar, all is imperfect and defective, the wonder is that all here is not revolution. It is not lack of goodwill in the governors, but we must use the eyes and arms of strangers, of whom, for the most part, we can know nothing, and who, instead ofserving their country, may be serving only their own interests. Themonks are a powerful aid, but they are not sufficient. You inspiregreat interest in me, and I would not have the imperfection of ourgovernmental system tell in anyway against you. I cannot watch overany one; every one cannot come to me. Tell me, can I be useful toyou in any way? Have you any request to make?"

Ibarra reflected. 

"Señor, " he replied, "my great desire is for the happiness of mycountry, and I would that happiness might be due to the effortsof our mother country and of my fellow-citizens united to her andunited among themselves by the eternal bonds of common views andinterests. What I would ask, the Government alone can give, and thatafter many continuous years of labor and of well-conceived reforms. "

The general gave him a long look, which Ibarra bore naturally, without timidity, without boldness. 

"You are the first man with whom I've spoken in this country, " criedHis Excellency, stretching out his hand. 

"Your Excellency has seen only those who while away their livesin cities; he has not visited the falsely maligned cabins of ourvillages. There Your Excellency would be able to see veritable men, if to be a man a noble heart and simple manners are enough. "

The captain-general rose and walked up and down the room. 

"Señor Ibarra, " he said, stopping before Crisóstomo, "your educationand manner of thinking are not for this country. Sell what you ownand come with me when I go back to Europe; the climate will be betterfor you. "

"I shall remember all my life this kindness of Your Excellency, "replied Ibarra, moved; "but I must live in the country where myparents lived----"

"Where they died, you would say more justly. Believe me, I, perhaps, know your country better than you do yourself. Ah, but I forget! Youare to marry an adorable girl, and I'm keeping you from her all thistime! Go--go to her! And that you may have more freedom, send thefather to me, " he added, smiling. "Don't forget, though, that I wantyour company for the promenade. "

Ibarra saluted, and went out. 

The general called his aide-de-camp. 

"I am pleased, " said he, giving him a light tap on the shoulder;"I have seen to-day for the first time how one may be a good Spaniardwithout ceasing to be a good Filipino. What a pity that this Ibarrasome day or other----but call the alcalde. "

The judge at once presented himself. 

"Señor alcalde, " said the general, "to avoid a repetition of sceneslike those of which you were a spectator to-day--scenes, I deplore, because they reflect upon the Government and upon all Spaniards--Irecommend the Señor Ibarra to your utmost care and consideration. "

The alcalde perceived the reprimand and lowered his eyes. 

Captain Tiago presented himself, stiff and unnatural. 

"Don Santiago, " the general said affectionately, "a moment ago Icongratulated you upon having a daughter like the Señorita de losSantos. Now I make you my compliments upon your future son-in-law. Themost virtuous of daughters is worthy of the first citizen of thePhilippines. May I know the day of the wedding?"

"Señor----" stammered Captain Tiago, wiping drops of sweat fromhis brow. 

"Then nothing is settled, I see. If witnesses are lacking, it willgive me the greatest pleasure to be one of them. "

"Yes, señor, " said Captain Tiago, with a smile to stir compassion. 

Ibarra had gone off almost running to find Maria Clara. He had so muchto talk over with her. Through a door he heard the murmur of girls'voices. He knocked. 

"Who is there?" asked Maria. 

"I. "

The voices were hushed, but the door did not open. 

"It's I. May I come in?" demanded Crisóstomo, his heart beginning tobeat violently. 

The silence continued. After some moments, light foot-steps approachedthe door, and the voice of Sinang said through the keyhole:

"Crisóstomo, we're going to the theatre to-night. Write what you haveto say to Maria Clara. "

"What does that mean?" said Ibarra to himself as he slowly leftthe door. 

XXXII. 

THE PROCESSION. 

That evening, in the light of countless lanterns, to the sound ofbells and of continuous detonations, the procession started for thefourth time. 

The captain-general, who had set out on foot, accompanied by his twoaides-de-camp, Captain Tiago, the alcalde, the alférez, and Ibarra, andpreceded by the guards, to open a passage, was to view the processionfrom the house of the gobernadorcillo. This functionary had built aplatform for the recitation of a loa, a religious poem in honor ofthe patron saint. 

Ibarra would gladly have renounced the hearing of this composition, but His Excellency had ordered his attendance, and Crisóstomo mustconsole himself with the thought of seeing his fiancée at the theatre. 

The procession began by the march of the silver candelabra, borneby three sacristans. Then came the school children and theirmaster, then other children, all with paper lanterns, shaped andornamented according to the taste of each child--for each washis own lantern-maker--hoisted on bamboo poles of various lengthsand lighted by bits of candles. An effigy of St. John the Baptistfollowed, borne on a litter, and then came St. Francis, surrounded bycrystal lamps. A band followed, and then the standard of the saint, borne by the brothers of the Third Order, praying aloud in a sort oflamentation. San Diego came next, his car drawn by six brothers of theThird Order, probably fulfilling some vow. St. Mary Magdalen followedhim, a beautiful image with splendid hair, wearing a costume of silkspangled with gold, and holding a handkerchief of embroidered piñain her jewelled hands. Lights and incense surrounded her, and herglass tears reflected the varied colors of Bengal lights. St. Johnthe Baptist moved far ahead, as if ashamed of his camel's hair besideall this gold and glitter. 

After the Magdalen came the women of the order, the elder first, sothat the young girls should surround the car of the Virgin; behindthem was the curate under his dais. The car of the Virgin was precededby men dressed as phantoms, to the great terror of the children;the women wore habits like those of religious orders. In the midst ofthis obscure mass of robes and cowls and cordons one saw, like daintyjasmines, like fresh sampages amid old rags, twelve little girls inwhite, their hair free. Their eyes shone like their necklaces. Onemight have thought them little genii of the light taken prisoner byspectres. By two wide blue ribbons they were attached to the car ofthe Virgin, like the doves which draw the car of Spring. 

At the gobernadorcillo's the procession stopped, all the images andtheir attendants were drawn up around the platform, and all eyes werefixed on the half-open curtain. At length it parted, and a young manappeared, winged, booted like a cavalier, with sash and belt and plumedhat, and in Latin, Castilian, and Tagal recited a poem as extraordinaryas his attire. The verses ended, St. John pursued his bitter way. 

At the moment when the figure of the Virgin passed the house of CaptainTiago, a celestial song greeted it. It was a voice, sweet and tender, almost weeping out the Gounod "Ave Maria. " The music of the processiondied away, the prayers ceased. Father Salvi himself stood still. Thevoice trembled; it drew tears; it was more than a salutation: it wasa supplication and a complaint. 

Ibarra heard, and fear and darkness entered his heart. He felt thesuffering in the voice and dared not ask himself whence it came. 

The captain-general was speaking to him. 

"I should like your company at table. We will talk to those childrenwho have disappeared, " he said. 

Crisóstomo, looking at the general without seeing him, asked himselfunder his breath: "Can I be the cause?" And he followed the governormechanically. 

XXXIII. 

DOÑA CONSOLACION. 

Why were the windows of the house of the alférez not only withoutlanterns, but shuttered? Where, when the procession passed, were themasculine head with its great veins and purple lips, the flannel shirt, and the big cigar of the "Muse of the Municipal Guard"?

The house was sad, as Sinang said, because the people were gay. Hadnot a sentinel paced as usual before the door one might have thoughtthe place uninhabited. 

A feeble light showed the disorder of the room, where the alférezawas sitting, and pierced the dusty and spider-webbed conches of thewindows. The dame, according to her idle custom, was dozing in afauteuil. To deaden the sound of the bombs, she had coifed her headin a handkerchief, from which escaped her tangled hair, short andthin. This morning she had not been to mass, not because she did notwish it, but because her husband had not permitted it, accompanyinghis prohibition with oaths and threats of blows. Doña Consolacionwas now dreaming of revenge. She bestirred herself at last and ranover the house from one end to the other, her dark face disquietingto look at. A spark flashed from her eyes like that from the pupilof a serpent trapped and about to be crushed. It was cold, luminous, penetrating; it was viscous, cruel, repulsive. The smallest error onthe part of a servant, the least noise, drew forth words injuriousenough to smirch the soul; but nobody replied; to offer excuse wouldhave been to commit another crime. 

In this way the day passed. Meeting no opposition--her husband hadbeen invited to the gobernadorcillo's--she stored up spleen; thecells of her organism seemed slowly charging with electric force, which burst out, later on, in a tempest. 

Sisa had been in the barracks since her arrest the day before. Thealférez, fearing she might become the sport of the crowd, had orderedher to be kept until the fête was over. 

This evening, whether she had heard the song of Maria Clara, whetherthe bands had recalled airs that she knew, for some reason she began tochant, in her sympathetic voice, the songs of her youth. The soldiersheard and became still; they knew these airs, had sung them themselveswhen they were young and free and innocent. Doña Consolacion heard, too, and inquired for the singer. 

"Have her come up at once, " she said, after a moment's reflection, something like a smile flickering on her dry lips. 

The soldiers brought Sisa, who came without fear or question. Whenshe entered she seemed to see no one, which wounded the vanity ofthe dreadful muse. Doña Consolacion coughed, motioned the soldiersto withdraw, and, taking down her husband's riding whip, said in asinister voice:

"Vamos, magcanter icau!"

It was an order to sing, in a mixture of Castilian and Tagalo. DoñaConsolacion affected ignorance of her native tongue, thinking thus togive herself the air of a veritable Orofea, as she said in her attemptat Europea. For if she martyred the Tagalo, she treated Castilianworse, though her husband, and chairs and shoes, had contributed togiving her lessons. 

Sisa had been happy enough not to understand. The forehead of theshrew unknotted a bit, and a look of satisfaction animated her face. 

"Tell this woman to sing!" she said to the orderly. "She doesn'tunderstand; she doesn't know Spanish!"

The orderly spoke to Sisa, and she began at once the "Night Song. "

At first Doña Consolacion listened with a mocking smile, but littleby little it left her lips. She became attentive, then serious. Herdry and withered heart received the rain. "The sadness, the cold, the dew come down from the sky in the mantle of the night, " seemedto fall upon her heart; she understood "the flower, full of vanity, and prodigal with its splendors in the sun, now, at the fall of day, withered and stained, repentant and disillusioned, trying to raiseits poor petals toward heaven, begging a shade to hide it from themockery of the sun, who had seen it in its pomp, and was laughing atthe impotence of its pride; begging also a drop of dew to be let fallupon it. "

"No! Stop singing!" she cried in perfect Tagal. "Stop! These versesbore me!"

Sisa stopped. The orderly thought: "Ah, she knows the Tagal!" And heregarded his mistress with admiration. 

She saw she had betrayed herself, became ashamed, and shame in herunfeminine nature meant rage. She showed the door to the imprudentorderly, and shut it behind him with a blow. Then she took severalturns around the room, wringing the whip in her nervous hands. At last, planting herself before Sisa, she said to her in Spanish: "Dance!"

Sisa did not move. 

"Dance! Dance!" she repeated in a threatening voice. The poor thinglooked at her with vacant eyes. The vixen took hold of one of herarms and then the other, raising them and swaying them about. It wasof no use. Sisa did not understand. 

In vain Doña Consolacion began to leap about, making signs for Sisa toimitate her. In the distance a band was playing a slow and majesticmarch; but the creature leaped furiously to another measure, beatingwithin herself. Sisa looked on, motionless. A faint curiosity rosein her eyes, a feeble smile moved her pale lips; the alféreza's dancepleased her. 

The dancer stopped, as if ashamed, and raised the terrible whip, well known to thieves and soldiers. 

"Now, " said she, "it's your turn! Dance!" And she began to give lighttaps to the bare feet of bewildered Sisa, whose face contracted withpain; the poor thing tried to ward off the blows with her hands. 

"Ah! You're beginning, are you?" cried Doña Consolacion, with savagejoy, and from lento, she passed to allegro vivace. 

Sisa cried out and drew up first one foot and then the other. 

"Will you dance, accursed Indian!" and the whip whistled. 

Sisa let herself fall to the floor, trying to cover her feet, and looking at her tormenter with haggard eyes. Two lashes on theshoulders forced her to rise with screams. 

Her thin chemise was torn, the skin broken and the blood flowing. 

This excited Doña Consolacion still more. 

"Dance! Dance!" she howled, and seizing Sisa with one hand, whileshe beat her with the other, she commenced to leap about again. 

At length Sisa understood, and followed, moving her arms withoutrhythm or measure. A smile of satisfaction came to the lips of thehorrible woman--the smile of a female Mephistopheles who has foundan apt pupil: hate, scorn, mockery, and cruelty were in it; a burstof demoniacal laughter could not have said more. 

Absorbed by her delight in this spectacle, the alféreza did not knowthat her husband had arrived until the door was violently thrown openwith a kick. 

The alférez was pale and morose. When he saw what was going on, hedarted a terrible glance at his wife, then quietly put his hand onthe shoulder of the strange dancer, and stopped her motion. Sisa, breathing hard, sat down on the floor. He called the orderly. 

"Take this woman away, " he said; "see that she is properly cared for, and has a good dinner and a good bed. To-morrow she is to be takento Señor Ibarra's. "

Then he carefully closed the door after them, pushed the bolt, andapproached his wife. 

XXXIV. 

RIGHT AND MIGHT. 

It was ten o'clock in the evening. The first rockets were slowlygoing up in the dark sky, where bright-colored balloons shone like newstars. On the ridge-poles of the houses men were seen armed with bamboopoles, with pails of water at hand. Their dark silhouettes against theclear gray of the night seemed phantoms come to share in the gayety ofmen. They were there to look out for balloons that might fall burning. 

Crowds of people were going toward the plaza to see the last playat the theatre. Bengal fires burned here and there, grouping themerry-makers fantastically. 

The grand estrade was magnificently illuminated. Thousands of lightswere fixed round the pillars, hung from the roof and clustered nearthe ground. 

In front of the stage the orchestra was tuning its instruments. Thedignitaries of the pueblo, the Spaniards, and wealthy strangersoccupied seats in rows. The people filled the rest of the place;some had brought benches, rather to mount them than to sit on them, and others noisily protested against this. 

Comings and goings, cries, exclamations, bursts of laughter, jokes, a whistle, swelled the tumult. Here the leg of a bench gave way andprecipitated those on it, to the delight of the spectators; therewas a dispute for place; and a little beyond a fracas of glassesand bottles. It was Andeng, carrying a great tray of drinks, andunfortunately she had encountered her fiancé, who was disposed toprofit by the occasion. 

The lieutenant, Don Filipo, was in charge of the spectacle, forthe gobernadorcillo was playing monte, of which he was a passionatedevotee. Don Filipo was talking with old Tasio, who was on the pointof leaving. 

"Aren't you going to see the play?"

"No, thank you! My own mind suffices for rambling and dreaming, "replied the philosopher, laughing. "But I have a questionto propose. Have you ever observed the strange nature of ourpeople? Pacific, they love warlike spectacles; democratic, they adoreemperors, kings, and princes; irreligious, they ruin themselves inthe pomps of the ritual; the nature of our women is gentle, but theyhave deliriums of delight when a princess brandishes a lance. Do youknow the cause of all this? Well----"

The arrival of Maria Clara and her friends cut short theconversation. Don Filipo accompanied them to their places. Then camethe curate, with his usual retinue. 

The evening began with Chananay and Marianito in "Crispino and theGossip. " The scene fixed the attention of every one. The act wasending when Ibarra entered. His coming excited a murmur, and eyesturned from him to the curate. But Crisóstomo observed nothing. Hegracefully saluted Maria and her friends and sat down. The only onewho spoke to him was Sinang. 

"Have you been watching the fireworks?" she asked. 

"No, little friend, I had to accompany the governor-general. "

"That was too bad!"

Brother Salvi had risen, gone to Don Filipo, and appeared to be havingwith him a serious discussion. He spoke with heat, the lieutenantcalmly and quietly. 

"I am sorry not to be able to satisfy your reverence, but Señor Ibarrais one of the chief contributors to the fête, and has a perfect rightto be here so long as he creates no disturbance. "

"But is it not creating a disturbance to scandalize all goodChristians?"

"Father, " replied Don Filipo, "my slight authority does not permit meto interfere in religious matters. Let those who fear Señor Ibarra'scontact avoid him: he forces himself upon no one; the señor alcaldeand the captain-general have been in his company all the afternoon;it hardly becomes me to give them a lesson. "

"If you do not put him out of the place, we shall go. "

"I should be very sorry, but I have no authority to remove him. "

The curate repented of his threat, but there was now no remedy. Hemotioned to his companions, who rose reluctantly, and all went out, not without hostile glances toward Ibarra. 

The whisperings and murmurs began again. Several people came up toCrisóstomo and said:

"We are with you; pay no attention to them!"

"To whom?" he asked in astonishment. 

"Those who have gone out because you are here; they say you areexcommunicated. "

Ibarra, surprised, not knowing what to say, looked about him. Maria'sface was hidden. 

"Is it possible? Are we yet in the middle ages?" he began. But hechecked himself and said to the girls:

"I must excuse myself; I will be back to go home with you. "

"Oh, stay!" said Sinang. "Yeyeng is going to dance!"

"I cannot, little friend. "

While Yeyeng was coming forward, two soldiers of the guard approachedDon Filipo and demanded that the representation be stopped. 

"And why?" he asked in surprise. 

"Because the alférez and his wife have been fighting; they wantto sleep. "

"Tell the alférez we have the permission of the alcalde of theprovince, and nobody in the pueblo can overrule that, not even thegobernadorcillo. "

"But we have our orders to stop the performance. "

Don Filipo shrugged his shoulders and turned his back. The ComedyCompany of Tondo was about to give a play, and the audience wassettling for its enjoyment. 

The Filipino is passionately fond of the theatre; he listens insilence, never hisses, and applauds with measure. Does not thespectacle please him? He chews his buyo and goes out quietly, notto trouble those who may like it. He expects in his plays a combatevery fifteen seconds, and all the rest of the time repartee betweencomic personages, or terrifying metamorphoses. The comedy chosen forthis fête was "Prince Villardo, or the Nails Drawn from the Cellarof Infamy, " comedy with sorcery and fireworks. 

Prince Villardo presented himself, defying the Moors, who held hisfather prisoner. He threatened to cut off all their heads at a singlestroke and send them into the moon. 

Fortunately for the Moors, as they were preparing for the combat, atumult arose. The music stopped, and the musicians assailed the theatrewith their instruments, which went flying in all directions. Thevaliant Villardo, unprepared for so many foes, threw down his sword andbuckler and took to flight, and the Moors, seeing the hasty leave ofso terrible a Christian, made bold to follow him. Cries, exclamations, and imprecations rose on all sides, people ran against one another, lights went out, children screamed, and benches were overturned ina hurly-burly. Some cried fire, some cried "The tulisanes!"

What had happened? The two guards had driven off the musicians, and the lieutenant and some of the cuadrilleros were vainly tryingto check their flight. 

"Take those two men to the tribunal!" cried Don Filipo. "Don't letthem escape!"

When the crowd had recovered from its fright and taken account ofwhat had happened, indignation broke forth. 

"That's why they are for!" cried a woman, brandishing her arms; "totrouble the pueblo! They are the real tulisanes! Fire the barracks!"

Stones rained on the group of cuadrilleros leading off the guards, and the cry to fire the barracks was repeated. Chananay in her costumeof Leonora in "Il Trovatore" was talking with Ratia, in schoolmaster'sdress; Yeyeng, wrapped in a shawl, was attended by Prince Villardo, while the Moors tried to console the mortified musicians; but alreadythe crowd had determined upon action, and Don Filipo was doing hisbest to hold them in check. 

"Do nothing rash!" he cried. "To-morrow we will demand satisfaction;we shall have justice; I promise you justice!"

"No, " replied some; "that's what they did at Calamba: they promisedjustice, and the alcalde didn't do a thing! We will take justice forourselves! To the barracks!"

Don Filipo, looking about for some one to aid him, saw Ibarra. 

"For heaven's sake, Señor Ibarra, keep the people here while I gofor the cuadrilleros!"

"What can I do?" demanded the perplexed young fellow; but Don Filipowas already in the distance. 

Ibarra, in his turn, looked about for aid, and saw Elias. He ranto him, took him by the arm, and, speaking in Spanish, begged himto do what he could for order. The helmsman disappeared in thecrowd. Animated discussions were heard, and rapid questions; then, little by little, the mass began to dissolve and to wear a less hostileattitude. It was time; the soldiers arrived with bayonets fixed. 

As Ibarra was about to enter his house that night a little man inmourning, having a great scar on his left cheek, placed himself infront of him and bowed humbly. 

"What can I do for you?" asked Crisóstomo. 

"Señor, my name is José; I am the brother of the man killed thismorning. "

"Ah, " said Ibarra, "I assure you I am not insensible to your loss. Whatdo you wish of me?"

"Señor, I wish to know how much you are going to pay my brother'sfamily. "

"Pay!" repeated Crisóstomo, not without annoyance. "We will talk ofthis again; come to me to-morrow. "

"But tell me simply what you will give, " insisted José. 

"I tell you we will talk of it another day, not now, " said Ibarra, more impatiently. 

"Ah! You think because we are poor----"

Ibarra interrupted him. 

"Don't try my patience too far, " he said, moving on. José lookedafter him with a smile full of hatred. 

"It is easy to see he is a grandson of the man who exposed my fatherto the sun, " he murmured between his teeth. "The same blood!" Thenin a changed tone he added: "But if you pay well--friends!"

XXXV. 

HUSBAND AND WIFE. 

The fête was over, and the inhabitants of the pueblo now perceived, as they did every year, that their purses were empty, that in thesweat of their faces they had earned scant pleasure, and paid dearfor noise and headaches. But what of that? The next year they wouldbegin again; the next century it would still be the same, for it hadbeen so up to this time, and there is nothing which can make peoplerenounce a custom. 

The house of Captain Tiago is sad. All the windows are closed; onescarcely dares make a sound; and nowhere but in the kitchen do theyspeak aloud. Maria Clara, the soul of the house, is sick in bed. Thestate of her health could be read on all faces, as our actions betraythe griefs of our hearts. 

"What do you think, Isabel, ought I to make a gift to the cross atTunasan, or that at Matahong?" asks the unhappy father. "The crossat Tunasan grows, but that at Matahong perspires. Which do you callthe more miraculous?"

Aunt Isabel reflected, nodded her head, and whispered:

"To grow is more miraculous; we all perspire, but we don't all grow. "

"That's so, yes, Isabel; but, after all, for wood to perspire--well, then, the best thing is to make offerings to both. "

A carriage stopping before the house cut short theconversation. Captain Tiago, followed by Aunt Isabel, ran down thesteps to receive the coming guests. They were the doctor, Don Tiburciode Espadaña, his wife, the Doctora Doña Victorina de Los Reyes de deEspadaña, and a young Spaniard of attractive face and fine appearance. 

The doctora wore a silk dress bordered with flowers, and a hat with alarge parrot perched among bows of red and blue ribbons. The dust ofthe journey mingling with the rice powder on her cheeks, exaggeratedher wrinkles; as when we saw her at Manila, she had given her arm toher lame husband. 

"I have the pleasure of presenting to you our cousin, Don AlfonsoLinares de Espadaña, " said Doña Victorina, indicating the young man;"the adopted son of a relative of Father Dámaso's, and privatesecretary of all the ministers----"

The young man bowed low; Captain Tiago barely escaped kissing his hand. 

While the countless trunks, valises, and bags are being cared for andCaptain Tiago is conducting his guests to their apartments, let usmake a nearer acquaintance with these people whom we have not seensince the opening chapters. 

Doña Victorina is a woman of forty-five summers, which, according toher arithmetic, are equivalent to thirty-two springs. In her youth shehad been very pretty, but, enraptured in her own contemplation, shehad looked with the utmost disdain on her numerous Filipino adorers, even scorning the vows of love once murmured in her ears or chantedunder her balcony by Captain Tiago. Her aspirations bore her towardanother race. 

Her first youth, then her second, then her third, having passed intending nets to catch in the ocean of the world the object of herdreams, Doña Victorina must in the end content herself with what fatewilled her. It was a poor man torn from his native Estramadure, who, after wandering six or seven years about the world, a modern Ulysses, found at length, in the island of Luzon, hospitality, money, and afaded Calypso. 

Don Tiburcio was a modest man, without force, who would not willinglyhave injured a fly. He started for the Philippines as under-clerkof customs, but after breaking his leg was forced to give up hisposition. For a while he lived at the expense of some compatriots, but he found their bread bitter. As he had neither profession normoney, his advisers counselled him to go into the provinces and offerhimself as a physician. At first he refused, but, necessity becomingpressing, his friends convinced him of the vanity of his scruples. Hestarted out, kept by his conscience from asking more than small fees, and was on the road to prosperity when a jealous doctor called him tothe attention of the College of Physicians at Manila. Nothing wouldhave come of it, but the affair reached the ears of the people; lossof confidence followed, and then loss of patrons. Misery again staredhim in the face when he heard of the affliction of Doña Victorina. DonTiburcio saw here a patch of blue sky, and asked to be presented. 

They met, and after a half-hour of conversation, reached anunderstanding. Without doubt she would have preferred a Spaniard lesshalting, less bald, without impediment of speech, and with more teeth;but such a Spaniard had never asked her hand, and at thirty-two whatwoman is not prudent?

For his part, Don Tiburcio resigned himself when he saw the spectreof famine raise its head. Not that he had ever had great ambitionsor great pretensions; but his heart, virgin till now, had pictured adifferent divinity. He was, however, somewhat of a philosopher. Hesaid to himself: "All that was a dream! Is the reality powderedand wrinkled, homely and ridiculous? Well, I am bald and lame andtoothless. "

They were married then, and Doña Victorina was enchanted with herhusband. She had him fitted out with false teeth, attired by thebest tailors of the city, and ordered carriages and horses for theprofessional visits she intended him again to make. 

While thus transforming her husband, she did not forget herself. Shediscarded the silk skirt and jacket of piña for European costume, loaded her head with false hair, and her person with such extravagancesgenerally as to disturb the peace of a whole idle and tranquilneighborhood. 

The glamour around the husband first began to dim when he tried toapproach the subject of the rice powder by remarking that nothing is sougly as the false or so admirable as the natural. Doña Victorina lookedunpleasantly at his teeth, and he was silent. Indeed, at the end of avery short time the doctora had arrived at the complete subjugation ofher husband, who no longer offered any more resistance than a littlelap-dog. If he did anything to annoy her, she forbade his going out, and in her moments of greatest rage she tore out his false teeth, and left him, sometimes for days, horribly disfigured. 

When they were well settled in Manila, Rodoreda received orders toengrave on a plate of black marble:

"Dr. De Espadaña, Specialist in All Kinds of Diseases. "

"Do you wish me to be put in prison?" asked Don Tiburcio in terror. 

"I wish people to call you doctor and me doctora, " said Doña Victorina, "but it must be understood that you treat only very rare cases. "

The señora signed her own name, Victorina de los Reyes de deEspadaña. Neither the engraver of her visiting cards nor her husbandcould make her renounce that second "de. "

"If I use only one 'de, ' people will think you haven't any, imbecile!" she said to Don Tiburcio. 

Then the number of gewgaws grew, the layer of rice powder wasthickened, the ribbons and laces were piled higher, and Doña Victorinaregarded with more and more disdain her poor compatriots who had nothad the fortune to marry husbands of so high estate as her own. 

All this sublimity, however, did not prevent her being each dayolder and more ridiculous. Every time Captain Tiago was with her, andremembered that she had once really inspired him with love, he sent apeso to the church for a mass of thanksgiving. But he had much respectfor Don Tiburcio, because of his title of specialist, and listenedattentively to the rare sentences the doctor's impediment of speechlet him pronounce. For this reason and because the doctor did notlavish his visits on people at large he had chosen him to treat Maria. 

As to young Linares, Doña Victorina, wishing a steward from thepeninsula, her husband remembered a cousin of his, a law student atMadrid, who was considered the most astute of the family. They sentfor him, and the young man had just arrived. 

Father Salvi entered while Don Santiago and his guests were at thesecond breakfast. They talked of Maria Clara, who was sleeping;they talked of the journey, and Doña Victorina exclaimed loudlyat the costumes of the provincials, their houses of nipa, andtheir bamboo bridges. She did not omit to inform the curate ofher friendly relations with the "Segundo Cabo, " with this alcalde, with that councillor, all people of distinction, who had for her thegreatest consideration. 

"If you had come two days earlier, Doña Victorina, " said CaptainTiago, profiting by a slight pause in the lady's brilliant loquacity, "you would have found His Excellency the governor general seated inthis very place. "

"What! His Excellency was here? And at your house? Impossible!"

"I repeat that he was seated exactly here. If you had come two daysago----"

"Ah! What a pity Clarita did not fall ill sooner!" she cried. "Youhear, cousin! His Excellency was here! You know, Don Santiago, thatat Madrid our cousin was the friend of ministers and dukes, and thathe dined with the Count del Campanario. "

"The Duke de la Torre, Victorina, " suggested her husband. 

"It is the same thing!"

"Shall I find Father Dámaso at his pueblo to-day?" Linares askedBrother Salvi. 

"Father Dámaso is here, and may be with us at any moment. "

"I'm very glad! I have a letter for him, and if a happy chance hadnot brought me here, I should have come expressly to see him. "

Meanwhile the "happy chance, " that is to say, poor Maria Clara, had awakened. 

"Come, de Espadaña, come, see Clarita, " said Doña Victorina. "Itis for you he does this, " she went on, turning to Captain Tiago;"my husband attends only people of quality. "

The sick-room was almost in obscurity, the windows closed, for fearof draughts; two candles, burning before an image of the Virgin ofAntipolo, sent out feeble glimmers. 

Enveloped in multiple folds of white, the lovely figure of Maria layon her bed of kamagon, behind curtains of jusi and piña. Her abundanthair about her face increased its transparent pallor, as did theradiance of her great, sad eyes. Beside her were her two friends, and Andeng holding a lily branch. 

De Espadaña felt her pulse, examined her tongue, asked a question ortwo, and nodded his head. 

"Sh--she is s--sick, but she can be c--cured. "

Doña Victorina looked proudly at their audience. 

"Lichen with m--m--milk, for the m--m--morning, syrup ofm--m--marshmallow, and two tablets of cynoglossum. "

"Take courage, Clarita, " said Doña Victorina, approaching the bed, "we have come to cure you. I'm going to present to you our cousin. "

Linares, absorbed, was gazing at those eloquent eyes, which seemedto be searching for some one; he did not hear Doña Victorina. 

"Señor Linares, " said the curate, drawing him out of his abstraction, "here is Father Dámaso. "

It was indeed he; but it was not the Father Dámaso of heretofore, so vigorous and alert. He walked uncertainly, and he was pale and sad. 

XXXVI. 

PROJECTS. 

With no word for any one else, Father Dámaso went straight to Maria'sbed and took her hand. 

"Maria, " he said with great tenderness, and tears gushed from his eyes, "Maria, my child, you must not die!"

Maria Clara looked at him with some astonishment. No one of those whoknew the Franciscan would have believed him capable of such displayof feeling. 

He could not say another word, but moved aside the draperies and wentout among the plants of Maria's balcony, crying like a child. 

"How he loves his god-daughter!" every one thought. 

Father Salvi, motionless and silent, watched him intently. 

When the father's grief seemed more controlled, Doña Victorinopresented young Linares. Father Dámaso, saying nothing, looked himover from head to foot, took the letter, read it without appearingto comprehend, and asked:

"Well, who are you?"

"Alfonso Linares, the godson of your brother-in-law----" stammered theyoung fellow. Father Dámaso threw back his head and examined him anew, his face clearing. 

"What! It's the godson of Carlicos!" he cried, clasping him in hisarms. "I had a letter from him some days ago. And it is you? You werenot born when I left the country. I did not know you!" And FatherDámaso still held in his strong arms the young man, whose face beganto color, perhaps from embarrassment, perhaps from suffocation. FatherDámaso appeared to have completely forgotten his grief. 

After the first moments of effusion and questions about Carlicos andPepa, Father Dámaso asked:

"Let's see, what is it Carlicos wishes me to do for you?"

"I think he says something about it in the letter, " stammered Linaresagain. 

"In the letter? Yes, that's so! He wishes me to find you employmentand a wife. Ah, the employment is easy enough, but as for thewife!--hem!--a wife----"

"Father, that is not so urgent, " said Linares, with confusion. 

But Father Dámaso was walking back and forth murmuring: "A wife! Awife!" His face was no longer sad or joyful, but serious andpreoccupied. From a distance Father Salvi watched the scene. 

"I did not think the thing could cause me so much pain, " FatherDámaso murmured plaintively; "but of two evils choose the least!" Thenapproaching Linares:

"Come with me, my boy, " he said, "we will talk with DonSantiago. " Linares paled and followed the priest. 

XXXVII. 

SCRUTINY OF CONSCIENCE. 

Long days followed by weary nights were passed by the pillow of thesick girl. After a confession to Father Salvi, Maria Clara had had arelapse, and in her delirium she pronounced no name but that of hermother, whom she had never known. Her friends, her father, her aunt, watched her, and heaped with gifts and with silver for masses thealtars of miraculous images. At last, slowly and regularly, the feverbegan to abate. 

The Doctor de Espadaña was stupefied at the virtues of the syrup ofmarshmallow and the decoction of lichen, prescriptions he had nevervaried. Doña Victorina was so satisfied with her husband that oneday when he stepped on her train, in a rare state of clemency shedid not apply to him the usual penal code by pulling out his teeth. 

One afternoon, Sinang and Victorina were with Maria; the curate, Captain Tiago, and the Espadañas were talking in the dining-room. 

"I'm distressed to hear it, " the doctor was saying; "and Father Dámasomust be greatly disturbed. "

"Where did you say he is to be sent?" asked Linares. 

"Into the province of Tabayas, " replied the curate carelessly. 

"Maria Clara will be very sorry too, " said Captain Tiago; "she loveshim like a father. "

Father Salvi looked at him from the corner of his eye. 

"Father, " continued Captain Tiago, "I believe her sickness came fromnothing but that trouble the day of the fête. "

"I am of the same opinion, so you have done well in not permittingSeñor Ibarra to talk with her; that would only have aggravated hercondition. "

"And it is thanks to us alone, " interrupted Doña Victorina, "thatClarita is not already in heaven singing praises with the angels. "

"Amen!" Captain Tiago felt moved to say. 

"I think I know whereof I speak, " said the curate, "when I say thatthe confession of Maria Clara brought about the favorable crisisthat saved her life. I do not deny the power of science, but a pureconscience----"

"Pardon, " objected Doña Victorina, piqued; "then cure the wife ofthe alférez with a confession!"

"A hurt, señora, is not a malady, to be influenced by the conscience, "replied Father Salvi severely; "but a good confession would preserveher in future from such blows as she got this morning. "

"She deserved them!" said Doña Victorina. "She is an insolent woman. Inchurch she did nothing but look at me. I had a mind to ask her whatthere was curious about my face; but who would soil her lips speakingto these people of no standing?"

The curate, as if he had not heard this tirade, continued: "To finishthe cure of your daughter, she should receive the communion to-morrow, Don Santiago. I think she does not need to confess, and yet, if shewill once more, this evening----"

"I don't know, " said Doña Victorina, profiting by the pause tocontinue her reflections, "I don't understand how men can marry suchfrights. One easily sees where that woman came from. She is dying ofenvy, that shows in her eyes. What does an alférez get?"

"So prepare Maria for confession, " the curate continued, turning toAunt Isabel. 

The good aunt left the group and went to her niece's room. Maria Clarawas still in bed, and pale, very pale; beside her were her two friends. 

Sinang was giving her her medicine. 

"He has not written to you again?" asked Maria, softly. 

"No. "

"He gave you no message for me?"

"No; he only said he was going to make every effort to have thearchbishop raise the ban of excommunication----"

The arrival of Aunt Isabel interrupted the conversation. 

"The father says you are to prepare yourself for confession, my child, "said she. "Sinang, leave her to examine her conscience. Shall I bringyou the 'Anchor, ' the 'Bouquet, ' or the 'Straight Road to Heaven, 'Maria?"

Maria Clara did not reply. 

"Well, we mustn't fatigue you, " said the good aunt consolingly;"I will read you the examination myself, and you will only have toremember your sins. "

"Write him to think of me no more, " murmured the sick girl inSinang's ear. 

"What!"

But Aunt Isabel came back with her book, and Sinang had to go. 

The good aunt drew her chair up to the light, settled her glasses onthe tip of her nose, and opened a little book. 

"Give good attention, my child: I will begin with the commandments ofGod; I shall go slowly, so that you may meditate: if you don't hearwell, you must tell me, and I will repeat; you know I'm never wearyof working for your good. "

In a voice monotonous and nasal, she began to read. Maria Claragazed vaguely into space. The first commandment finished, Aunt Isabelobserved her listener over her glasses, and appeared satisfied withher sad and meditative air. She coughed piously, and after a longpause began the second. The good old woman read with unction. Theterms of the second commandment finished, she again looked at herniece, who slowly turned away her head. 

"Bah!" said Aunt Isabel within herself, "as to taking His holy namein vain, the poor thing has nothing to question: pass on to the third. "

And the third commandment sifted and commentated, all the causes ofsin against it droned out, she again looked toward the bed. This timeshe lifted her glasses and rubbed her eyes; she had seen her nieceraise her handkerchief, as if to wipe away tears. 

"Hm!" said she; "hm! the poor child must have fallen asleep duringthe sermon. " And putting back her glasses on the tip of her nose, she reflected:

"We shall see if besides not keeping the holy feast days, she hasnot honored her father and her mother. " And slowly, in a voice morenasal than ever, she read the fourth commandment. 

"What a pure soul!" thought the old lady; "she who is so obedient, so submissive! I've sinned much more deeply than that, and I've neverbeen able to really cry!" And she began the fifth commandment with suchenthusiasm that she did not hear the stifled sobs of her niece. Itwas only when she stopped after the commentaries on wilful homicide, that she perceived the groanings of the sinner. Then in a voice thatpassed description, and a manner she strove to make menacing, shefinished the commentary, and seeing that Maria had not ceased to weep:

"Cry, my child, cry!" she said, going to her bedside; "the moreyou cry the more quickly will God pardon you. Cry, my child, cry;and beat your breast, but not too hard, for you are ill yet, you know. "

But as if grief had need of mystery and solitude, Maria Clara, finding herself surprised, stopped sobbing little by little and driedher eyes. Aunt Isabel returned to her reading, but the plaint of heraudience having ceased, she lost her enthusiasm; the second table ofthe law made her sleepy, and a yawn broke the nasal monotony. 

"No one would have believed it without seeing it, " thought thegood woman; "the child sins like a soldier against the first fivecommandments, and from the sixth to the tenth not so much as apeccadillo. That is contrary to the custom of the rest of us. One seesqueer things in these days!" And she lighted a great candle for theVirgin of Antipolo, and two smaller ones for Our Lady of the Rosaryand Our Lady of the Pillar. The Virgin of Delaroche was excluded fromthis illumination: she was to Aunt Isabel an unknown foreigner. 

We may not know what passed during the confession in the evening. Itwas long, and Aunt Isabel, who at a distance was watching over herniece, could see that instead of offering his ear to the sick girl, the curate had his face turned toward her. He went out, pale, withcompressed lips. At the sight of his brow, darkened and moist withsweat, one would have said it was he who had confessed, and absolutionhad been denied him. 

"Maria! Joseph!" said the good aunt, crossing herself, "who cancomprehend the girls of to-day!"

XXXVIII. 

THE TWO WOMEN. 

Doña Victorina was taking a walk through the pueblo, to see ofwhat sort were the dwellings and the advancement of the indolentIndians. She had put on her most elegant adornments, to impress theprovincials, and to show what distance separated them from her sacredperson. Giving her arm to her limping husband, she paraded the streetsof the pueblo, to the profound amazement of its inhabitants. 

"What ugly houses these Indians have!" she began, with a grimace. "Onemust needs be an Indian to live in them! And how ill-bred the peopleare! They pass us without uncovering. Knock off their hats, as thecurates do, and the lieutenants of the Civil Guard. "

"And if they attack me?" stammered the doctor. 

"Are you not a man?"

"Yes, but--but--I am lame. "

Doña Victorina grew cross. There were no sidewalks in these streets, and the dust was soiling the train of her dress. Some young girls whopassed dropped their eyes, and did not admire at all as they shouldher luxurious attire. Sinang's coachman, who was driving Sinang andher cousin in an elegant tres-por-ciento, had the effrontery to cry outto her "Tabi!" in so audacious a voice that she moved out of the way. 

"What a brute of a coachman!" she protested; "I shall tell his masterhe had better train his servants. Come along, Tiburcio!"

Her husband, fearing a tempest, turned on his heels, and they foundthemselves face to face with the alférez. Greetings were exchanged, but Doña Victorina's discontent grew. Not only had the officer saidnothing complimentary of her costume, but she believed she detectedmockery in his look. 

"You ought not to give your hand to a simple alférez, " she said toher husband, when the officer had passed. "You don't know how topreserve your rank. "

"H--here he is the chief. "

"What does that mean to us? Do we happen to be Indians?"

"You are right, " said Don Tiburcio, not minded to dispute. 

They passed the barracks. Doña Consolacion was at the window, asusual dressed in flannel, and puffing her puro. As the house was low, the two women faced each other. The muse examined Doña Victorina fromhead to foot, protruded her lip, ejected tobacco juice, and turnedaway her head. This affectation of contempt brought the patience ofthe doctora to an end. Leaving her husband without support, she went, trembling with rage, powerless to utter a word, and placed herselfin front of the alféreza's window. Doña Consolacion turned her headslowly back, regarded her antagonist with the utmost calm, and spatagain with the same cool contempt. 

"What's the matter with you, doña?" she asked. 

"Could you tell me, señora, why you stare at me in this fashion? Areyou jealous?" Doña Victorina was at last able to say. 

"I jealous? And of you?" replied the alféreza calmly. "Yes, I'mjealous of your frizzes. "

"Come away there!" broke in the doctor; "d--d--don't payat--t--t--tention to these f--f--follies!"

"Let me alone! I have to give a lesson to this brazenface!" repliedthe doctora, joggling her husband, who just missed sprawling inthe dust. 

"Consider to whom you are speaking!" she said haughtily, turningback to Doña Consolacion. "Don't think I am a provincial or a womanof your class. With us, at Manila, the alférezas are not received;they wait at the door. "

"Ho! ho! most worshipful señora, the alférezas wait at the door! Butyou receive such paralytics as this gentleman! Ha! ha! ha!"

Had she been less powdered Doña Victorina might have been seen toblush. She started to rush on her enemy, but the sentinel stood inthe way. The street was filling with a curious crowd. 

"Know that I demean myself in speaking to you; persons of positionlike me ought not! Will you wash my clothes? I will pay you well. Doyou suppose I do not know you are a washerwoman?"

Doña Consolacion sat erect. To be called a washerwoman had wounded her. 

"And do you think we don't know who you are?" she retorted. "Myhusband has told me! Señora, I, at least----"

But she could not be heard. Doña Victorina, wildly shaking her fists, screamed out:

"Come down, you old hussy, come down and let me tear your beautifuleyes out!"

Rapidly the medusa disappeared from the window; more rapidly yetshe came running down the steps, brandishing her husband's terriblewhip. Don Tiburcio, supplicating both, threw himself between, but hecould not have prevented the combat, had not the alférez arrived. 

"Well, well, señoras!--Don Tiburcio!"

"Give your wife a little more breeding, buy her more beautiful clothes, and if you haven't the money, steal it from the people of the pueblo;you have soldiers for that!" cried Doña Victorina. 

"Señora, " said the alférez, furious, "it is fortunate that I rememberyou are a woman; if I didn't, I should trample you down, with allyour curls and ribbons!"

"Se--señor alférez!"

"Move on, charlatan! It's not you who wear the breeches!"

Armed with words and gestures, with cries, insults, and injuries, the two women hurled at each other all there was in them of soiland shame. All four talked at once, and in the multitude of wordsnumerous verities were paraded in the light. If they did not hearall, the crowd of the curious did not fail to be diverted. They werelooking forward to battle, but, unhappily for these amateurs of sport, the curate came by and established peace. 

"Señoras! señoras! what a scandal! Señor alférez!"

"What are you doing here, hypocrite, carlist!"

"Don Tiburcio, take away your wife! Señora, restrain your tongue!"

Little by little the dictionary of sounding epithets becameexhausted. The shameless shrews found nothing left to say to eachother, and still threatening, the two couples drew slowly apart, the curate going from one to the other, lavishing himself on both. 

"We shall leave for Manila this very day and present ourselves tothe captain-general!" said the infuriated Doña Victorina to herhusband. "You are no man!"

"But--but, wife, the guards, and I am lame. "

"You are to challenge him, with swords or pistols, or else--orelse----" And she looked at his teeth. 

"Woman, I've never handled----"

Doña Victorina let him go no farther; with a sublime movement shesnatched out his teeth, threw them in the dust, and trampled themunder her feet. The doctor almost crying, the doctora pelting himwith sarcasms, they arrived at the house of Captain Tiago. Linares, who was talking with Maria Clara, was no little disquieted by theabrupt arrival of his cousins. Maria, amid the pillows of her fauteuil, was not less surprised at the new physiognomy of her doctor. 

"Cousin, " said Doña Victorina, "you are to go and challenge thealférez this instant; if not----"

"Why?" demanded the astonished Linares. 

"You are to go and challenge him this instant; if not, I shall sayhere, and to everybody, who you are. "

"Doña Victorina!"

The three friends looked at each other. 

"The alférez has insulted us. The old sorceress came down with a whipto assault us, and this creature did nothing to prevent it! A man!"

"Hear that!" said Sinang regretfully. "There was a fight, and wedidn't see it!"

"The alférez broke the doctor's teeth!" added Doña Victorina. 

Captain Tiago entered, but he wasn't given time to get his breath. Infew words, with an intermingling of spicy language, Doña Victorinanarrated what had passed, naturally trying to put herself in agood light. 

"Linares is going to challenge him, do you hear? Or don't let himmarry your daughter. If he isn't courageous, he doesn't merit Clarita. "

"What! you are going to marry this gentleman?" Sinang asked Maria, her laughing eyes filling with tears. "I know you are discreet, but I didn't think you inconstant. "

Maria Clara, white as alabaster, looked with great, frightened eyesfrom her father to Doña Victorina, from Doña Victorina to Linares. Theyoung man reddened; Captain Tiago dropped his head. 

"Help me to my room, " Maria said to her friends, and steadied bytheir round arms, her head on the shoulder of Victorina, she went out. 

That night the husband and wife packed their trunks, and presentedtheir account--no trifle--to Captain Tiago. The next morning theyset out for Manila, leaving to the pacific Linares the rôle of avenger. 

XXXIX. 

THE OUTLAWED. 

By the feeble moonlight that penetrates the thick foliage of foresttrees, a man was making his way through the woods. His movement wasslow but assured. From time to time, as if to get his bearings, hewhistled an air, to which another whistler in the distance repliedby repeating it. 

At last, after struggling long against the many obstacles a virginforest opposes to the march of man, and most obstinately at night, he arrived at a little clearing, bathed in the light of the moon inits first quarter. Scarcely had he entered it when another man camecarefully out from behind a great rock, a revolver in his hand. 

"Who are you?" he demanded with authority in Tagalo. 

"Is old Pablo with you?" asked the newcomer tranquilly; "if so, tell him Elias is searching for him. "

"You are Elias?" said the other, with a certain respect, yet keepinghis revolver cocked. "Follow me!"

They penetrated a cavern, the guide warning the helmsman when tolower his head, when to crawl on all fours. After a short passagethey arrived at a sort of room, dimly lighted by pitch torches, wheretwelve or fifteen men, dirty, ragged, and sinister, were talkinglow among themselves. His elbows resting on a stone, an old man ofsombre face sat apart, looking toward the smoky torches. It was acavern of tulisanes. When Elias arrived, the men started to rise, but at a gesture from the old man they remained quiet, contentingthemselves with examining the newcomer. 

"Is it thou, then?" said the old chief, his sad eyes lighting a littleat sight of the young man. 

"And you are here!" exclaimed Elias, half to himself. 

The old man bent his head in silence, making at the same time a signto the men, who rose and went out, not without taking the helmsman'smeasure with their eyes. 

"Yes, " said the old man to Elias when they were alone, "six months agoI gave you hospitality in my home; now it is I who receive compassionfrom you. But sit down and tell me how you found me. "

"As soon as I heard of your misfortunes, " replied Elias slowly, "I set out, and searched from mountain to mountain. I've gone overnearly two provinces. " After a short pause in which he tried to readthe old man's thoughts in his sombre face, he went on:

"I have come to make you a proposition. After vainly trying to findsome representative of the family which caused the ruin of my own, I have decided to go North, and live among the savage tribes. Willyou leave this life you are beginning, and come with me? Let me bea son to you?"

The old man shook his head. 

"At my age, " he said, "when one has taken a desperate resolution itis final. When such a man as I, who passed his youth and ripe agelaboring to assure his future and that of his children, who submittedalways to the will of superiors, whose conscience is clear--when sucha man, almost on the border of the tomb, renounces all his past, it isbecause after ripe reflection he concludes that there is no such thingas peace. Why go to a strange land to drag out my miserable days? Ihad two sons, a daughter, a home, a fortune. I enjoyed considerationand respect; now I am like a tree stripped of its branches, bare anddesolate. And why? Because a man dishonored my daughter; because mysons wished to seek satisfaction from this man, placed above other byhis office; because this man, fearing them, sought their destructionand accomplished it. And I have survived; but if I did not know howto defend my sons, I shall know how to avenge them. The day my band isstrong enough, I shall go down into the plain and wipe out my vengeanceand my life in fire! Either this day will come or there is no God!"

The old man rose, and, his eyes glittering, his voice cavernous, he cried, fastening his hands in his long hair:

"Malediction, malediction upon me, who held the avenging hands of mysons! I was their assassin!"

"I understand you, " said Elias; "I too have a vengeance to satisfy;and yet, from fear of striking the innocent, I choose to forego that. "

"You can; you are young; you have not lost your last hope. I too, I swear it, would not strike the innocent. You see this wound? I gotit rather than harm a cuadrillero who was doing his duty. "

"And yet, " said Elias, "if you carry out your purpose, you will bringdreadful woes to our unhappy country. If with your own hands yousatisfy your vengeance, your enemies will take terrible reprisals--notfrom you, not from those who are armed, but from the people, who arealways the ones accused. When I knew you in other days, you gave mewise counsels: will you permit me----"

The old man crossed his arms and seemed to attend. 

"Señor, " continued Elias, "I have had the fortune to do a great serviceto a young man, rich, kind of heart, upright, wishing the good ofhis country. It is said he has relations at Madrid; of that I knownothing, but I know he is the friend of the governor-general. Whatdo you think of interesting him in the cause of the miserable andmaking him their voice?"

The old man shook his head. 

"He is rich, you say. The rich think only of increasing theirriches. Not one of them would compromise his peace to go to the aidof those who suffer. I know it, I who was rich myself. "

"But he is not like the others. And he is a young man about tomarry, who wishes the tranquillity of his country for the sake ofhis children's children. "

"He is a man, then, who is going to be happy. Our cause is not thatof fortunate men. "

"No, but it is that of men of courage!"

"True, " said the old man, seating himself again. "Let us supposehe consents to be our mouthpiece. Let us suppose he wins thecaptain-general, and finds at Madrid deputies who can plead for us;do you believe we shall have justice?"

"Let us try it before we try measures of blood, " said Elias. "It mustsurprise you that I, an outlaw too, and young and strong, proposepacific measures. It is because I see the number of miseries whichwe ourselves cause, as well as our tyrants. It is always the unarmedwho pay the penalty. "

"And if nothing result from our steps?"

"If we are not heard, if our grievances are made light of, I shallbe the first to put myself under your orders. "

The old man embraced Elias, a strange light in his eyes. 

"I accept the proposition, " he said; "I know you will keep yourword. I will help you to avenge your parents; you shall help me toavenge my sons!"

"Meanwhile, señor, you will do nothing violent. "

"And you will set forth the wrongs of the people; you know them. Whenshall I have the response?"

"In four days send me a man to the lake shore of San Diego. I willtell him the decision, and name the person on whom I count. "

"Elias will be chief when Captain Pablo is fallen, " said the oldman. And he himself accompanied the helmsman out of the cave. 

XL. 

THE ENIGMA. 

The day after the departure of the doctor and the doctora, Ibarrareturned to the pueblo. He hastened to the house of Captain Tiago totell Maria he had been reconciled to the Church. Aunt Isabel, who wasfond of the young fellow, and anxious for his marriage with her niece, was filled with joy. Captain Tiago was not at home. 

"Come in!" Aunt Isabel cried in her bad Castilian. "Maria, Crisóstomo has returned to favor with the Church; the archbishop hasdisexcommunicated him!"

But Crisóstomo stood still, the smile froze on his lips, the wordshe was to say to Maria fled from his mind. Leaning against thebalcony beside her was Linares; on the floor lay leafless roses andsampagas. The Spaniard was making garlands with the flowers andleaves from the vines; Maria Clara, buried in her fauteuil, paleand thoughtful, was playing with an ivory fan, less white than herslender hands. 

At sight of Ibarra Linares paled, and carmine tinted the cheeks ofMaria Clara. She tried to rise, but was not strong enough; she loweredher eyes and let her fan fall. 

For some seconds there was an embarrassing silence; then Ibarra spoke. 

"I have this moment arrived, and came straight here. You are betterthan I thought you were. "

One would have said Maria had become mute: her eyes still lowered, she did not say a word in reply. Ibarra looked searchingly at Linares;the timid young man bore the scrutiny with haughtiness. 

"I see my arrival was not expected, " he went on slowly. "Pardon me, Maria, that I did not have myself announced. Some day I can explainto you--for we shall still see each other--surely!"

At these last words the girl raised toward her fiancé her beautifuleyes full of purity and sadness, so suppliant and so sweet that Ibarrastood still in confusion. 

"May I come to-morrow?" he asked after a moment. 

"You know that to me you are always welcome, " she said in a weak voice. 

Ibarra left, calm in appearance, but a tempest was in his brain andfreezing cold in his heart. What he had just seen and comprehendedseemed to him incomprehensible. Was it doubt, inconstancy, betrayal?

"Oh, woman!" he murmured. 

Without knowing where he went, he arrived at the ground where theschool was going up. Señor Juan hailed him with delight, and showedhim what had been done since he went away. 

With surprise Ibarra saw Elias among the workmen; the helmsman salutedhim, as did the others, and at the same time made him understand thathe had something to say to him. 

"Señor Juan, " said Ibarra, "will you bring me the list ofworkmen?" Señor Juan disappeared, and Ibarra approached Elias, whowas lifting a great stone and loading it on a cart. 

"If you can, señor, " said the helmsman, "give me an hour ofconversation, there is something grave of which I want to talk withyou. Will you go on the lake early this evening in my boat?"

Ibarra gave a sign of assent and Elias moved away. Señor Juan broughtthe list, but Ibarra searched it in vain for the name of the helmsman. 

XLI. 

THE VOICE OF THE PERSECUTED. 

The sun was just setting when Ibarra stepped into the little boat onthe lake shore. He appeared disturbed. 

"Pardon me, señor, " said Elias, "for having asked this favor; I wishedto speak to you freely, with no possibility of listeners. "

"And what have you to say?"

They had already shot away from the bank. The sun had disappearedbehind the crest of the mountains, and as twilight is of shortduration in this latitude, the night was descending rapidly, lightedby a brilliant moon. 

"Señor, " replied Elias, "I am the spokesman of many unfortunates. " Andbriefly he told of his conversation with the chief of the tulisanes, omitting the old man's doubts and threats. 

"And they wish?" asked Ibarra, when he had finished. 

"Radical reforms in the guard, the clergy, and the administrationof justice. "

"Elias, " said Ibarra, "I know little of you, but I believe you willunderstand me when I say that though I have friends at Madrid whomI might influence, and though I might interest the captain-generalin these people, neither they nor he could bring about such arevolution. And more, I would not take a step in this direction, because I believe what you want reformed is at present a necessaryevil. "

"You also, señor, believe in necessary evil?" said Elias with a tremorin his voice. "You think one must go through evil to arrive at good?"

"No; but I look at evil as a violent remedy we sometimes use to cureourselves of illness. "

"It is a bad medicine, señor, that does away with the symptoms withoutsearching out the cause of the disease. The Municipal Guard existsonly to suppress crime by force and terrorizing. "

"The institution may be imperfect, but the terror it inspires keepsdown the number of criminals. "

"Rather say that this terror creates new criminals every day, "said Elias. "There are those who have become tulisanes for life. Afirst offence punished inhumanly, and the fear of further tortureseparates them forever from society and condemns them to kill or tobe killed. The terrorism of the Municipal Guard shuts the doors ofrepentance, and as a tulisan, defending himself in the mountains, fights to much better advantage than the soldier he mocks, we cannotremedy the evil we have made. Terrorism may serve when a people isenslaved, and the mountains have no caverns; but when a desperateman feels the strength of his arm, and anger possesses him, terrorismcannot put out the fire for which it has itself heaped the fuel. "

"You would seem to speak reasonably, Elias, if one had not already hisown convictions. But let me ask you, Who demand these reforms? Youknow I except you, whom I cannot class with these others; but arethey not all criminals, or men ready to become so?"

"Go from pueblo to pueblo, señor, from house to house, and listento the stifled groanings, and you will find that if you think that, you are mistaken. "

"But the Government must have a body of unlimited power, to makeitself respected and its authority felt. "

"It is true, señor, when the Government is at war with the country;but is it not unfortunate that in times of peace the people shouldbe made to feel they are at strife with their rulers? If, however, we prefer force to authority, we should at least be careful to whomwe give unlimited power. Such a force in the hands of men ignorant, passionate, without moral training or tried honor, is a weaponthrown to a madman in the middle of an unarmed crowd. I grant theGovernment must have an arm, but let it choose this arm well; andsince it prefers the power it assumes to that the people might giveit, let it at least show that it knows how to assume it!"

Elias spoke with passion; his eyes were brilliant, his voice wasresonant. His words were followed by silence; the boat, no longerdriven forward by the oars, seemed motionless on the surface of thelake; the moon shone resplendent in the sapphire sky; above the farbanks the stars glittered. 

"And what else do they ask?"

"Reform of the religious orders, --they demand better protection----"

"Against the religious orders?"

"Against their oppression, señor. "

"Do the Philippines forget the debt they owe those men who led themout of error into the true faith? It is a pity we are not taught thehistory of our country!"

"We must not forget this debt, no! But were not our nationalityand independence a dear price with which to cancel it? We havealso given the priests our best pueblos, our most fertile fields, and we still give them our savings, for the purchase of all sorts ofreligious objects. I realize that a pure faith and a veritable loveof humanity moved the first missionaries who came to our shores. Iacknowledge the debt we owe those noble men; I know that in thosedays Spain abounded in heroes, of politics as well as religion. Butbecause the ancestors were true men, must we consent to the excessesof their unworthy descendants? Because a great good has been done us, may we not protest against being done a great wrong? The missionariesconquered the country, it is true; but do you think it is throughthe monks that Spain will keep the Philippines?"

"Yes, and through them only. It is the opinion of all those who havewritten on the islands. "

"Señor, " said Elias in dejection, "I thank you for your patience. Iwill take you back to the shore. "

"No, " said Ibarra, "go on; we should know which is right in soimportant a question. "

"You will excuse me, señor, " said Elias, "I have not eloquence enoughto convince you. If I have some education, I am an Indian, and mywords would always be suspected. Those who have expressed opinionscontrary to mine are Spaniards, and as such disarm in advance allcontradiction. Besides, when I see that you, who love your country, you, whose father sleeps below this calm water, you who have beenattacked and wronged yourself, have these opinions, I commence to doubtmy own convictions, I acknowledge that the people may be mistaken. Imust tell these unfortunates who have placed their confidence in mento put it in God or in their own strength. "

"Elias, your words hurt me, and make me, too, have doubts. I have notgrown up with the people, and cannot know their needs. I only knowwhat books have taught me. If I take your words with caution, it isbecause I fear you may be prejudiced by your personal wrongs. IfI could know something of your story, perhaps it would alter myjudgment. I am mistrustful of theories, am guided rather by facts. "

Elias thought a moment, then he said:

"If this is so, señor, I will briefly tell you my history. "

XLII. 

THE FAMILY OF ELIAS. 

"It is about sixty years since my grandfather was employed asaccountant by a Spanish merchant. Although still young, he was married, and had a son. One night the warehouse took fire, and was burnedwith the surrounding property. The loss was great, incendiarism wassuspected, and my grandfather was accused. He had no money to payfor his defence, and he was convicted and condemned to be publiclyflogged in the streets of his pueblo. Attached to a horse, he wasbeaten as he passed each street corner by men, his brothers. Thecurates, you know, advocate nothing but blows for the disciplineof the Indian. When the unhappy man, marked forever with infamy, was liberated, his poor young wife went about seeking work to keepalive her disabled husband and their little child. Failing in this, she was forced to see them suffer, or to live herself a life of shame. "

Ibarra rose to his feet. 

"Oh, don't be disturbed! There was no longer honor or dishonor forher or hers. When the husband's wounds were healed, they went to hidethemselves in the mountains, where they lived for a time, shunnedand feared. But my grandfather, less courageous than his wife, couldnot endure this existence and hung himself. When his body was found, by chance, my grandmother was accused for not reporting his death, andwas in turn condemned to be flogged; but in consideration of her stateher punishment was deferred. She gave birth to another son, unhappilysound and strong; two months later her sentence was carried out. Thenshe took her two children and fled into a neighboring province. 

"The elder of the sons remembered that he had once been happy. As soonas he was old enough he became a tulisan to avenge his wrongs, andthe name of Bâlat spread terror in many provinces. The younger son, endowed by nature with a gentle disposition, stayed with his mother, both living on the fruits of the forest and dressing in the cast-offrags of those charitable enough to give. At length the famous Bâlatfell into the hands of justice, and paid a dreadful penalty forhis crimes, to that society which had never done anything to teachhim better than to commit them. One morning the young brother, whohad been in the forest gathering fruits, came back to find the deadbody of his mother in front of their cabin, the horror-stricken eyesstaring upward; and following them with his own, the unhappy boy sawsuspended from a limb the bloody head of his brother. "

"My God!" cried Ibarra. 

"It is perhaps the cry that escaped the lips of my father, " saidElias coldly. "Like a condemned criminal, he fled across mountainsand valleys. When he thought himself far enough away to have losthis identity, he found work with a rich man of the province ofTayabas. His industry and the sweetness of his disposition gainedhim favor. Here he stayed, economized, got a little capital, and ashe was yet young, thought to be happy. He won the love of a girl ofthe pueblo, but delayed asking for her hand, fearing that his pastmight be uncovered. At length, when love's indiscretion bore fruit, to save her reputation he was obliged to risk everything. He asked tomarry her, his papers were demanded, and the truth was learned. Asthe father was rich, he instituted a prosecution. The unhappy youngman made no defence, and was sent to the garrison. 

"Our mother bore twins, my sister and me. She died while we wereyet young, and we were told that our father was dead also. As ourgrandfather was rich, we had a happy childhood; we were alwaystogether, and loved each other as only twins can. I was sent veryearly to the college of the Jesuits, and my sister to La Concordia, that we might not be completely separated. In time we returned totake possession of our grandfather's property. We had many servantsand rich fields. We were both happy, and my sister was affianced toa man she adored. 

"By my haughtiness, perhaps, and for pecuniary reasons, I had won thedislike of a distant relative. He threw in my face the obscurity of ourorigin and the dishonor of our race. Believing it calumny, I demandedsatisfaction; the tomb where so many miseries sleep was opened, andthe truth came forth to confound me. To crown all, there had beenwith us many years an old servant, who had suffered all my capriceswithout complaint. I do not know how our relative found it out, but hebrought the old man before the court and made him declare the truth:he was our father. Our happiness was ended. I gave up my inheritance, my sister lost her fiancé, and with our father we left the pueblo, to live where he might. The thought of the unhappiness he had broughtupon us shortened our father's days, and my sister and I were leftalone. She could not forget her lover, and little by little I sawher droop. One day she disappeared, and I searched everywhere forher in vain. Six months afterward, I learned that at the time I losther there had been found on the lake shore of Calamba the body of ayoung woman drowned or assassinated. A knife, they said, was buriedin her breast. From what they told me of her dress and her beauty, I recognized my sister. Since then I have wandered from province toprovince, my reputation and my story following in time. Many thingsare attributed to me, often unjustly, but I continue my way and takelittle account of men. You have my story, and that of one of thejudgments of our brothers!"

Elias rowed on in a silence which was for some time unbroken. 

"I believe you are not wrong when you say that justice should interestherself in the education of criminals, " said Crisóstomo at length;"but it is impossible, it is Utopia; where get the money necessaryto create so many new offices?"

"Why not use the priests, who vaunt their mission of peace andlove? Can it be more meritorious to sprinkle a child's head with waterthan to wake, in the darkened conscience of a criminal, that sparklighted by God in every soul to guide it in the search for truth? Canit be more humane to accompany a condemned man to the gallows thanto help him in the hard path that leads from vice to virtue? And thespies, the executioners, the guards, do not they too cost money?"

"My friend, if I believed all this, what could I do?"

"Alone, nothing; but if the people sustained you?"

"I shall never be the one to lead the people when they try to obtainby force what the Government does not think it time to give them. If Ishould see the people armed, I should range myself on the side of theGovernment. I do not recognize my country in a mob. I desire her good;that is why I build a school. I seek this good through instruction;without light there is no route. "

"Without struggle, no liberty; without liberty, no light. You say youknow your country little. I believe you. You do not see the conflictcoming, the cloud on the horizon: the struggle begun in the sphereof the mind is going to descend to the arena of blood. Listen to thevoice of God; woe to those who resist it! History shall not be theirs!"

Elias was transfigured. He stood uncovered, his manly face illumined bythe white light of the moon. He shook his mane of hair and continued:

"Do you not see how everything is waking? The sleep has lastedcenturies, but some day the lightning will strike, and the bolt, instead of bringing ruin, will bring life. Do you not see minds intravail with new tendencies, and know that these tendencies, diversenow, will some day be guided by God into one way? God has not failedother peoples; He will not fail us!"

The words were followed by solemn silence. The boat, drawn on by thewaves, was nearing the bank. Elias was the first to speak. 

"What shall I say to those who sent me?"

"That they must wait. I pity their situation, but progress is slow, and there is always much of our own fault in our misfortunes. "

Elias said no more. He lowered his eyes and continued to row. Whenthe boat touched the shore, he took leave of Ibarra. 

"I thank you, señor, " he said, "for your kindness to me, and, in yourown interest, I ask you to forget me from this day. "

When Ibarra was gone, Elias guided his boat toward a clump of reedsalong the shore. His attention seemed absorbed in the thousands ofdiamonds that rose with the oar, and fell back and disappeared inthe mystery of the gentle azure waves. When he touched land, a mancame out from among the reeds. 

"What shall I say to the captain?" he asked. 

"Tell him Elias, if he lives, will keep his word, " replied thehelmsman sadly. 

"And when will you join us?"

"When your captain thinks the hour has come. "

"That is well; adieu!"

"If I live!" repeated Elias, under his breath. 

XLIII. 

IL BUON DI SI CONOSCE DA MATTINA. 

While Ibarra and Elias were on the lake, old Tasio, ill in hissolitary little house, and Don Filipo, who had come to see him, werealso talking of the country. For several days the old philosopher, orfool--as you find him--prostrated by a rapidly increasing feebleness, had not left his bed. 

"The country, " he was saying to Don Filipo, "isn't what it was twentyyears ago. "

"Do you think so?"

"Don't you see it?" asked the old man, sitting up. "Ah! you did notknow the past. Hear the students of to-day talking. New names arespoken under the arches that once heard only those of Saint Thomas, Suarez, Amat, and the other idols of my day. In vain the monks cryfrom the chair against the demoralization of the times; in vain theconvents extend their ramifications to strangle the new ideas. Theroots of a tree may influence the parasites growing on it, but theyare powerless against the bird, which, from the branches, mountstriumphant toward the sky!"

The old man spoke with animation, and his eye shone. 

"And yet the new germ is very feeble, " said the lieutenant. "If theyall set about it, the progress already so dearly paid for may yetbe choked. "

"Choke it? Who? The weak dwarf, man, to choke progress, the powerfulchild of time and energy? When has he done that? He has tried dogma, the scaffold, and the stake, but E pur si muove is the device ofprogress. Wills are thwarted, individuals sacrificed. What doesthat mean to progress? She goes her way, and the blood of those whofall enriches the soil whence spring her new shoots. The Dominicansthemselves do not escape this law, and they are beginning to imitatethe Jesuits, their irreconcilable enemies. "

"Do you hold that the Jesuits move with progress?" asked the astonishedDon Filipo. "Then why are they so attacked in Europe?"

"I reply as did once an ecclesiastic of old, " said the philosopher, laying his head back on the pillow and putting on his mocking air, "that there are three ways of moving with progress: ahead, beside, behind; the first guide, the second follow, the third are dragged. TheJesuits are of these last. At present, in the Philippines, we areabout three centuries behind the van of the general movement. TheJesuits, who in Europe are the reaction, viewed from here representprogress. For instance, the Philippines owe to them the introductionof the natural sciences, the soul of the nineteenth century. As forourselves, at this moment we are entering a period of strife: strifebetween the past which grapples to itself the tumbling feudal castle, and the future whose song may be heard afar off, bringing us fromdistant lands the tidings of good news. "

The old man stopped, but seeing the expression of Don Filipo he smiledand went on. 

"I can almost divine what you are thinking. "

"Can you?"

"You are thinking that I may easily be wrong; to-day I have the fever, and I am never infallible. But it is permitted us to dream. Why notmake the dreams agreeable in the last hours of life? You are right:I do dream! Our young men think of nothing but loves and pleasures;our men of riper years have no activity but in vice, serve only tocorrupt youth with their example; youth spends its best years withoutideal, and childhood wakes to life in rust and darkness. It is wellto die. Claudite jam rivos, pueri. "

"Is it time for your medicine?" asked Don Filipo, seeing the cloudon the old man's face. 

"The parting have no need of medicine, but those who stay. In a fewdays I shall be gone. The Philippines are in the shadows. "

XLIV. 

LA GALLERA. 

To keep holy the afternoon of Sunday in Spain, one goes ordinarily tothe plaza de toros; in the Philippines, to the gallera. Cock-fights, introduced in the country about a century ago, are to-day one of thevices of the people. The Chinese can more easily deprive themselvesof opium than the Filipinos of this bloody sport. 

The poor, wishing to get money without work, risks here the littlehe has; the rich seeks a distraction at the price of whatever loosecoin feasts and masses leave him. The education of their cocks costsboth much pains, often more than that of their sons. 

Since the Government permits and almost recommends it, let us takeour part in the sport, sure of meeting friends. 

The gallera of San Diego, like most others, is divided into threecourts. In the entry is taken the sa pintû, that is, the price ofadmission. Of this price the Government has a share, and its revenuesfrom this source are some hundred thousand pesos a year. It is saidthis license fee of vice serves to build schools, open roads, spanrivers, and establish prizes for the encouragement of industry. Blessedbe vice when it produces so happy results! In this entry are foundgirls selling buyo, cigars, and cakes. Here gather numerous children, brought by their fathers or uncles, whose duty it is to initiate theminto the ways of life. 

In the second court are most of the cocks. Here the contracts are made, amid recriminations, oaths, and peals of laughter. One caresses hiscock, while another counts the scales on the feet of his, and extendsthe wings. See this fellow, rage in his face and heart, carrying bythe legs his cock, deplumed and dead. The animal which for months hasbeen tended night and day, on which such brilliant hopes were built, will bring a peseta and make a stew. Sic transit gloria mundi! Theruined man goes home to his anxious wife and ragged children. He haslost at once his cock and the price of his industry. Here the leastintelligent discuss the sport; those least given to thought extend thewings of cocks, feel their muscles, weigh, and ponder. Some are dressedin elegance, followed and surrounded by the partisans of their cocks;others, ragged and dirty, the stigma of vice on their blighted faces, follow anxiously the movements of the rich; the purse may get empty, the passion remains. Here not a face that is not animated; in this theFilipino is not indolent, nor apathetic, nor silent; all is movement, passion. One would say they were all devoured by a thirst always moreand more excited by muddy water. 

From this court one passes to the pit, a circle with seats terraced tothe roof, filled during the combats with a mass of men and children;scarcely ever does a woman risk herself so far. Here it is thatdestiny distributes smiles and tears, hunger and joyous feasts. 

Entering, we recognize at once the gobernadorcillo, Captain Basilio, and José, the man with the scar, so cast down by the death of hisbrother. And here comes Captain Tiago, dressed like the sporting man, in a canton flannel shirt, woollen trousers, and a jipijapa hat. Heis followed by two servants with his cocks. A combat is soon arrangedbetween one of these and a famous cock of Captain Basilio's. Thenews spreads, and a crowd gathers round, examining, considering, forecasting, betting. 

While men were searching their pockets for their last cuarto, or inlieu of it were engaging their word, promising to sell the carabao, the next crop, and so forth, two young fellows, brothers apparently, looked on with envious eyes. José watched them by stealth, smilingevilly. Then making the pesos sound in his pocket, he passed thebrothers, looking the other way and crying:

"I pay fifty; fifty against twenty for the lásak!"

The brothers looked at each other discontentedly. 

"I told you not to risk all the money, " said the elder. "If you hadlistened to me----"

The younger approached José and timidly touched his arm. 

"What! It's you?" he cried, turning and feigning surprise. "Does yourbrother accept my proposition?"

"He won't do it. But if you would lend us something, as you say youknow us----"

José shook his head, shifted his position, and replied:

"Yes, I know you; you are Társilo and Bruno; and I know that yourvaliant father died from the club strokes of these soldiers. I knowyou don't think of vengeance----"

"Don't concern yourself with our history, " said the elder brother, joining them; "that brings misfortune. If we hadn't a sister, weshould have been hanged long ago!"

"Hanged! Only cowards are hanged. Besides, the mountain isn't so far. "

"A hundred against fifty for the bûlik!" cried some one passing. 

"Loan us four pesos--three--two, " begged Bruno. José again shookhis head. 

"Sh! the money isn't mine. Don Crisóstomo gave it to me for those whoare willing to serve him. But I see you are not like your father;he was courageous. The man who is not must not expect to diverthimself. " And he moved away. 

"See!" said Bruno, "he's talking with Pedro; he's giving him a lotof money!" And in truth José was counting silver pieces into the palmof Sisa's husband. 

Társilo was moody and thoughtful; with his shirt sleeve he wiped thesweat from his forehead. 

"Brother, " said Bruno, "I'm going, if you don't; our father mustbe avenged!"

"Wait, " said Társilo, gazing into his eyes--they were both pale--"I'mgoing with you. You are right: our father must be avenged!" But hedid not move, and again wiped his brow. 

"What are you waiting for?" demanded Bruno impatiently. 

"Don't you think--our poor sister----"

"Bah! Isn't Don Crisóstomo the chief, and haven't we seen him withthe governor-general? What risk do we run?"

"And if we die?"

"Did not our poor father die under their clubs?"

"You are right!"

The brothers set out to find José, but hesitation again possessedTársilo. 

"No; come away! we're going to ruin ourselves!" he cried. 

"Go on if you want to. I shall accept!"

"Bruno!"

Unhappily a man came up and asked:

"Are you betting? I'm for the lásak. "

"How much?" demanded Bruno. 

The man counted his pieces. 

"I have two hundred; fifty against forty!"

"No!" said Bruno resolutely. 

"Good! Fifty against thirty!"

"Double it if you will. "

"A hundred against sixty, then!"

"Agreed! Wait while I go for the money, " and turning to his brotherhe said:

"Go away if you want to; I shall stay!"

Társilo reflected. He loved Bruno, and he loved sport. 

"I am with you, " he said. They found José. 

"Uncle, " said Társilo, "how much will you give?" "I've told youalready; if you will promise to find others to help surprisethe quarters, I'll give you thirty pesos each, and ten to eachcompanion. If all goes well, they will each receive a hundred, andyou double. Don Crisóstomo is rich!"

"Agreed!" cried Bruno; "give us the money!"

"I knew you were like your father! Come this way, so that those whokilled him cannot hear us, " said José. And drawing them into a corner, he added as he counted out the money:

"Don Crisóstomo has come and brought the arms. To-morrow night ateight o'clock meet me in the cemetery. I will give you the finalword. Go find your companions. " And he left them. 

The brothers appeared to have exchanged rôles. Társilo now seemedundisturbed; Bruno was pale. They went back to the crowd, which wasleaving the circle for the raised seats. Little by little the placebecame silent. Only the soltadores were left in the ring holding twococks, with exaggerated care, looking out for wounds. The silencebecame solemn; the spectators became mere caricatures of men; thefight was about to begin. 

XLV. 

A CALL. 

Two days later Brother Salvi presented himself at the house ofCaptain Tiago. The Franciscan was more gaunt and pale than usual;but as he went up the steps a strange light shone in his eyes, andhis lips parted in a strange smile. Captain Tiago kissed his hand, and took his hat and cane, smiling beatifically. 

"I bring good news, " said the curate as he entered the drawing-room;"good news for everybody. I have letters from Manila confirmingthe one Señor Ibarra brought me, so that I believe, Don Santiago, the obstacle is quite removed. "

Maria Clara, seated at the piano, made a movement to rise, but herstrength failed her and she had to sit down again. Linares grew pale;Captain Tiago lowered his eyes. 

"The young man seems to me very sympathetic, " said the curate. "Atfirst I misjudged him. He is impulsive, but when he commits a fault, he knows so well how to atone for it that one is forced to forgivehim. If it were not for Father Dámaso----" And the curate flashed aglance at Maria Clara. She was listening with all her being, but didnot take her eyes off her music, in spite of the pinches that wereexpressing Sinang's joy. Had they been alone they would have danced. 

"But Father Dámaso has said, " continued the curate, without losingsight of Maria Clara, "that as godfather he could not permit; but, indeed, I believe if Señor Ibarra will ask his pardon everything willarrange itself. "

Maria rose, made an excuse, and with Victorina left the room. 

"And if Father Dámaso does not pardon him?" asked Don Santiago in alow voice. 

"Then Maria Clara must decide. But I believe the matter can bearranged. "

The sound of an arrival was heard, and Ibarra entered. His coming madea strange impression. Captain Tiago did not know whether to smile orweep. Father Salvi rose and offered his hand so affectionately thatCrisóstomo could scarcely repress a look of surprise. 

"Where have you been all day?" demanded wicked Sinang. "We askedeach other: 'What can have taken that soul newly rescued fromperdition?' and each of us had her opinion. "

"And am I to know what each opinion was?"

"No, not yet! Tell me where you went, so I can see who made thebest guess. "

"That's a secret too; but I can tell you by yourself if these gentlemenwill permit. "

"Certainly, certainly?" said Father Salvi. Sinang drew Crisóstomo tothe other end of the great room. 

"Tell me, little friend, " said he, "is Maria angry with me?"

"I don't know. She says you had best forget her, and then shecries. This morning when we were wondering where you were I said totease her: 'Perhaps he has gone a-courting. ' But she was quite grave, and said: 'It is God's will!'"

"Tell Maria I must see her alone, " said Ibarra, troubled. 

"It will be difficult, but I'll try to manage it. "

"And when shall I know?"

"To-morrow. But you are going without telling me the secret!"

"So I am. Well, I went to the pueblo of Los Baños to see about somecocoanut trees!"

"What a secret!" cried Sinang aloud in a tone of a usurer despoiled. 

"Take care, I really don't want you to speak of it. "

"I've no desire to, " said Sinang scornfully. "If it had been reallyof importance I should have told my friends; but cocoanuts, cocoanuts, who cares about cocoanuts!" and she ran off to find Maria. 

Conversation languished, and Ibarra soon took his leave. Captain Tiagowas torn between the bitter and the sweet. Linares said nothing. Onlythe curate affected gayety and recounted tales. 

XLVI. 

A CONSPIRACY. 

The bell was announcing the time of prayer the evening after. At itssound every one stopped his work and uncovered. The laborer coming fromthe fields checked his song; the woman in the streets crossed herself;the man caressed his cock and said the Angelus, that chance might favorhim. And yet the curate, to the great scandal of pious old ladies, was running through the street toward the house of the alférez. Hedashed up the steps and knocked impatiently. The alférez opened. 

"Ah, father, I was just going to see you; your young buck----"

"I've something very important----" began the breathless curate. 

"I can't allow the fences to be broken; if he comes back, I shallfire on him. "

"Who knows whether to-morrow you will be alive, " said the curate, going on toward the reception-room. 

"What? You think that youngster is going to kill me?"

"Señor alférez, the lives of all of us are in danger!"

"What?"

The curate pointed to the door, which the alférez closed in hiscustomary fashion. 

"Now, go ahead, " he said calmly. 

"Did you see how I ran? When I thus forget myself, there is somegrave reason. "

"And this time it is----"

The curate approached him and spoke low. 

"Do you--know--of nothing--new?"

The alférez shrugged his shoulders. 

"Are you speaking of Elias?"

"No, no! I'm speaking of a great peril!"

"Well, finish then!" cried the exasperated alférez. 

The curate lowered his voice mysteriously:

"I have discovered a conspiracy!"

The alférez gave a spring and looked at the curate in stupefaction. 

"A terrible conspiracy, well organized, that is to break out to-night!"

The alférez rushed across the room, took down his sabre from the wall, and grasped his revolver. 

"Whom shall I arrest?" he cried. 

"Be calm! There is plenty of time, thanks to the haste with which Icame. At eight o'clock----"

"They shall be shot, all of them!"

"Listen! It is a secret of the confessional, discovered to me by awoman. At eight o'clock they are to surprise the barracks, sack theconvent, and assassinate all the Spaniards. "

The alférez stood dumbfounded. 

"Be ready for them; ambush your soldiers; send me four guards forthe convent! You will earn your promotion to-night! I only ask youto make it known that it was I who warned you. "

"It shall be known, father; it shall be known, and, perhaps, it willbring down a mitre!" replied the alférez, his eyes on the sleeves ofhis uniform. 

While this conversation was in progress, Elias was running toward thehouse of Ibarra. He entered and was shown to the laboratory, whereCrisóstomo was passing the time until the hour of his appointmentwith Maria Clara. 

"Ah! It is you, Elias?" he said, without noticing the tremor of thehelmsman. "See here! I've just made a discovery: this piece of bamboois non-combustible. "

"Señor, there is no time to talk of that; take your papers and flee!"

Ibarra looked up amazed, and, seeing the gravity of the helmsman'sface, let fall the piece of bamboo. 

"Leave nothing behind that could compromise you, and may an hour fromthis time find you in a safer place than this!"

"What does all this mean?"

"That there is a conspiracy on foot which will be attributed to you. Ihave this moment been talking with a man hired to take part in it. "

"Did he tell you who paid him?"

"He said it was you. "

Ibarra stared in stupid amazement. 

"Señor, you haven't a moment to lose. The plot is to be carriedout to-night. "

Crisóstomo still gazed at Elias, as if he did not understand. 

"I learned of it too late; I don't know the leaders; I can donothing. Save yourself, señor!"

"Where can I go? I am due now at Captain Tiago's, " said Ibarra, beginning to come out of his trance. 

"To another pueblo, to Manila, anywhere! Destroy your papers! Fly, and await events!"

"And Maria Clara? No! Better die!"

Elias wrung his hands. 

"Prepare for the accusation, at all events. Destroy your papers!"

"Aid me then, " said Crisóstomo, in almost helpless bewilderment. "Theyare in these cabinets. My father's letters might compromise me. Youwill know them by the addresses. " And he tore open one drawer afteranother. Elias worked to better purpose, choosing here, rejectingthere. Suddenly he stopped, his pupils dilated; he turned a paperover and over in his hand, then in a trembling voice he asked:

"Your family knew Don Pedro Eibarramendia?"

"He was my great-grandfather. "

"Your great-grandfather?" repeated Elias, livid. 

"Yes, " said Ibarra mechanically, and totally unobservant of Elias. "Thename was too long; we cut it. "

"Was he a Basque?" asked Elias slowly. 

"Yes; but what ails you?" said Crisóstomo, looking round and recoilingbefore the hard face and clenched fists of Elias. 

"Do you know who Don Pedro Eibarramendia was? Don Pedro Eibarramendiawas the wretch who caused all our misfortune! I have long beensearching for his descendants; God has delivered you into myhands! Look at me! Do you think I have suffered? And you live, andyou love, and have a fortune and a home; you live, you live!" and, beside himself, he ran toward a collection of arms on the wall. Butno sooner had he reached down two poniards than he dropped them, looking blindly at Ibarra, who stood rigid. 

"What was I going to do?" he said under his breath, and he fled likea madman. 

XLVII. 

THE CATASTROPHE. 

Captain Tiago, Aunt Isabel, and Linares were dining. Maria Clarahad said she was not hungry, and was at the piano with Sinang. Thetwo girls had arranged this moment for meeting Ibarra away from toowatchful eyes. The clock struck eight. 

"He's coming! Listen!" cried the laughing Sinang. 

He entered, white and sad. Maria Clara, in alarm, started toward him, but before any one could speak a fusilade sounded in the street; thenrandom pistol shots, and cries and clamor. Crisóstomo seemed gluedto the floor. The diners came running in crying: "The tulisanes! Thetulisanes!" Aunt Isabel fell on her knees half dead from fright, Captain Tiago was weeping. Some one rushed about fastening thewindows. The tumult continued outside; then little by little therefell a dreadful silence. Presently the alférez was heard crying outas he ran through the street:

"Father Salvi! Father Salvi!"

"Mercy!" exclaimed Aunt Isabel. "The alférez is asking for confession!"

"The alférez is wounded!" murmured Linares, with an expression ofthe utmost relief. 

"The tulisanes have killed the alférez! Maria, Sinang, into yourchamber! Barricade the door!"

In spite of the protests of Aunt Isabel, Ibarra went out into thestreet. Everything seemed turning round and round him; his ears rang;he could scarcely move his limbs. Spots of blood, flashes of light anddarkness alternated before his eyes. The streets were deserted, but thebarracks were in confusion, and voices came from the tribunal, that ofthe alférez dominating all the others. Ibarra passed unchallenged, andreached his home, where his servants were anxiously watching for him. 

"Saddle me the best horse and go to bed, " he said to them. 

He entered his cabinet and began to pack a valise. He had put in hismoney and jewels and Maria's picture and was gathering up his paperswhen there came three resounding knocks at the house door. 

"Open in the name of the King! Open or we force the door!" said animperious voice. Ibarra armed himself and looked toward the window;then changed his mind, threw down his revolver, and went to thedoor. Three guards immediately seized him. 

"I make you prisoner in the name of the King!" said the sergeant. 

"Why?"

"You will learn at the tribunal; I am forbidden to talk with you. "

"I am at your disposition. It will not be for, I suppose, long. "

"If you promise not to try to escape us, we may leave your hands free;the alférez grants you that favor. "

Crisóstomo took his hat and followed the guards, leaving his servantsin consternation. 

Elias, after leaving the house of Ibarra, ran like a madman, notknowing whither. He crossed the fields and reached the wood. He wasfleeing from men and their habitations; he was fleeing from light;the moon made him suffer. He buried himself in the mysterious silenceof the wood. The birds stirred, wakened from their sleep; owls flewfrom branch to branch, screeching or looking at him with great, roundeyes. Elias did not see or hear them; he thought he was followed bythe irate shades of his ancestors. From every branch hung the bleedinghead of Bâlat. At the foot of every tree he stumbled against the coldbody of his grandmother; among the shadows swung the skeleton of hisinfamous grandfather; and the skeleton, the body, and the bleedinghead cried out: "Coward! Coward!"

He ran on. He left the mountain and went down to the lake, movingfeverishly along the shore; his wandering eyes became fixed upon apoint on the tranquil surface, and there, surrounded by a silvernimbus and rocked by the tide, stood a shade which he seemed torecognize. Yes, that was her hair, so long and beautiful; yes, thatwas her breast, gaping from the poniard stroke. And the wretched man, kneeling in the sand, stretched out his arms to the cherished vision:

"Thou! Thou, too!" he cried. 

His eyes fixed on the apparition, he rose, entered the water anddescended the gentle slope of the beach. Already he was far from thebank; the waves lapped his waist; but he went on fascinated. The waterreached his breast. Did he know it? Suddenly a volley tore the air;the night was so calm that the rifle shots sounded clear and sharp. Hestopped, listened, came to himself; the shade vanished; the dreamwas gone. He perceived that he was in the lake, level with his eyesacross the tranquil water he saw the lights in the poor cabins offishermen. Everything came back to him. He made for the shore andwent rapidly toward the pueblo. 

San Diego was deserted; the houses were closed; even the dogs hadhidden themselves. The glittering light that bathed everything detachedthe shadows boldly, making the solitude still more dreary. 

Fearing to encounter the guards, Elias scaled fences and hedges, and so, making his way through the gardens, reached the home ofIbarra. The servants were around the door lamenting the arrest of theirmaster. Elias learned what had happened, and made feint of going away, but returned to the back of the house, jumped the wall, climbed into awindow and made his way to the laboratory. He saw the papers, the armstaken down, the bags of money and jewels, Maria's picture, and had avision of Ibarra surprised by the soldiers. He meditated a moment anddecided to bury the things of value in the garden. He gathered themup, went to the window, and saw gleaming in the moonlight the casquesand bayonets of the guard. His plans were quickly laid. He hid abouthis person the money and jewels, and, after an instant's hesitation, the picture of Maria. Then, heaping all the papers in the middle of theroom, he saturated them with oil from a lamp, threw the lighted candlein the midst, and sprang out of the window. It was none too soon:the guards were forcing entrance against the protests of the servants. 

But dense smoke made its way through the house and tongues of flamebegan to break out. Soldiers and servants together cried fire andrushed toward the cabinet, but the flames had reached the chemicals, and their explosion drove every one back. The water the servantscould bring was useless, and the house stood so apart that their criesbrought no aid. The flames leaped upward amid great spirals of smoke;the house, long respected by the elements, was now their prisoner. 

XLVIII. 

GOSSIP. 

It was not yet dawn. The street in which were the barracks and tribunalwas still deserted; none of its houses gave a sign of life. Suddenlythe shutter of a window opened with a bang and a child's headappeared, looking in all directions, the little neck stretched toits utmost--plas! It was the sound of a smart slap in contact withthe fresh human skin. The child screwed up his face, shut his eyes, and disappeared from the window, which was violently closed again. 

But the example had been given: the two bangs of the shutter hadbeen heard. Another window opened, this time with precaution, and thewrinkled and toothless head of an old woman looked stealthily out. Itwas Sister Putá, the old dame who had caused such a commotion duringFather Dámaso's sermon. Children and old women are the representativesof curiosity in the world; the children want to know, the old womento live over again. The old sister stayed longer than the child, and gazed into the distance with contracted brows. Timidly a skylightopened in the house opposite, giving passage to the head and shouldersof sister Rufa. The two old women looked across at each other, smiled, exchanged gestures, and signed themselves. 

"Since the sack of the pueblo by Bâlat I've not known such anight!" said Sister Putá. 

"What a firing! They say it was the band of old Pablo. "

"Tulisanes? Impossible! I heard it was the cuadrilleros against theguards; that's why Don Filipo was arrested. "

"They say at least fourteen are dead. "

Other windows opened and people were seen exchanging greetingsand gossip. 

By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldierscould now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettescoming and going. 

"Do you know what it was?" asked a man, with a villainous face. 

"Yes, the cuadrilleros. "

"No, señor, a revolt!"

"What revolt? The curate against the alférez?"

"Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese. "

"The Chinese!" repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment. 

"That's why we don't see one!"

"They are all dead!"

"I--I suspected they had something on foot!"

"I saw it, too. Last night----"

"What a pity they are all dead before Christmas!" cried SisterRufa. "We shall not get their presents!"

The streets began to show signs of life. First the dogs, pigs, andchickens began to circulate; then some little ragged boys, keepinghold of each other's hands, ventured to approach the barracks. Two orthree old women crept after them, their heads wrapt in handkerchiefsknotted under their chins, pretending to tell their beads, so asnot to be driven back by the soldiers. When it was certain that onemight come and go without risking a pistol shot, the men commencedto stroll out. Affecting indifference and stroking their cocks, they finally got as far as the tribunal. 

Every quarter hour a new version of the affair was circulated. Ibarrawith his servants had tried to carry off Maria Clara, and in defendingher, Captain Tiago had been wounded. The number of dead was no longerfourteen, but thirty. At half-past seven the version which receivedmost credit was clear and detailed. 

"I've just come from the tribunal, " said a passer, "where I saw DonFilipo and Don Crisóstomo prisoners. Well, Bruno, son of the man whowas beaten to death, has confessed everything. You know, Captain Tiagois to marry his daughter to the young Spaniard. Don Crisóstomo wantedrevenge, and planned to massacre all the Spaniards. His band attackedthe convent and the barracks. They say many of them escaped. Theguards burned Don Crisóstomo's house, and if he hadn't been arrested, they would have burned him, too. "

"They burned the house?"

"You can still see the smoke from here, " said the narrator. 

Everybody looked: a column of smoke was rising against the sky. Thenthe comments began, some pitying, some accusing. 

"Poor young man!" cried the husband of Sister Putá. 

"What!" cried the sister. "You are ready to defend a man that heavenhas so plainly punished? You'll find yourself arrested too. You upholda falling house!"

The husband was silent; the argument had told. 

"Yes, " went on the old woman. "After striking down Father Dámaso, there was nothing left but to kill Father Salvi!"

"But you can't deny he was a good child. "

"Yes, he was good, " replied the old woman; "but he went to Europe, and those who go to Europe come back heretics, the curates say. "

"Oho!" said the husband, taking his advantage. "And the curate, andall the curates, and the archbishop, and the pope, aren't they allSpaniards? What? And are they heretics?"

Happily for Sister Putá, the conversation was cut short. A servantcame running, pale and horror-stricken. 

"A man hung--in our neighbor's garden!" she gasped. 

A man hung! Nobody stirred. 

"Let's come and see, " said the old man, rising. 

"Don't go near him, " cried Sister Putá, "'twill bring us misfortune. Ifhe's hung, so much the worse for him!"

"Let me see him, woman. You, Juan, go and inform them at the tribunal;he may not be dead. " And the old man went off, the women, even SisterPutá, following at a distance, full of fear, but also of curiosity. 

Hanging from the branch of a sandal tree in the garden a human bodymet their gaze. The brave man examined it. 

"We must wait for the authorities; he's been dead a long time, "he said. 

Little by little the women drew near. 

"It's the new neighbor, " they whispered. "See the scar on his face?"

In half an hour the authorities arrived. 

"People are in a great hurry to die!" said the directorcillo, cockinghis pen behind his ear, and he began his investigation. 

Meanwhile a peasant wearing a great salakat on his head and havinghis neck muffled was examining the body and the cord. He noticedseveral evidences that the man was dead before he was hung. Thecurious countryman noticed also that the clothing seemed recentlytorn and was covered with dust. 

"What are you looking at?" demanded the directorcillo, who had gatheredall his evidence. 

"I was looking, señor, to see if I knew him, " stammered the man, halfuncovering, in which he managed to lower his salakat even fartherover his eyes. 

"But didn't you hear that it is a certain José? You must be asleep!"

Everybody laughed. The confused countryman stammered something elseand went away. When he had reached a safe distance, he took off hisdisguise and resumed the stature and gait of Elias. 

XLIX. 

VÆ VICTIS. 

With threatening air the guards marched back and forth before the doorof the town hall, menacing with the butt of their rifles intrepidsmall boys, who came and raised themselves on tiptoe to see throughthe gratings. 

The court room had not the same appearance as the day of the discussionof the fête. The guards and the cuadrilleros spoke low; the alférezpaced the room, looking angrily at the door from time to time. Ina corner yawned Doña Consolacion, her steely eyes riveted on thedoor leading into the prison. The arm-chair under the picture of HisMajesty was empty. 

It was almost nine o'clock when the curate arrived. 

"Well, " said the alférez, "you haven't kept us waiting!"

"I did not wish to be here, " said the curate, ignoring the tone ofthe alférez. "I am very nervous. "

"I thought it best to wait for you, " said the alférez. "We haveeight here, " he went on, pointing toward the door of the prison;"the one called Bruno died in the night. Are you ready to examinethe two unknown prisoners?"

The curate sat down in the arm-chair. 

"Let us go on, " he said. 

"Bring out the two in the cepo!" ordered the alférez in as terriblea voice as he could command. Then turning to the curate:

"We skipped two holes. "

For the benefit of those not acquainted with the instruments of tortureof the Philippines, we will say that the cepo, a form of stocks, isone of the most innocent; but by skipping enough holes, the position ismade most trying. It is, however, a torture that can be long endured. 

The jailor drew the bolt and opened the door. A sickening odor escaped, and a match lighted by one of the guards went out in the vitiatedair; when it was possible to take in a candle, one could see dimly, from the rooms outside, the forms of men crouching or standing. Thecepo was opened. 

A dark figure came out between two soldiers; it was Társilo, thebrother of Bruno. His torn clothing let his splendid muscles show. Theother prisoner brought out was weeping and lamenting. 

"What is your name?" the alférez demanded of Társilo. 

"Társilo Alasigan. "

"What did Don Crisóstomo promise you for attacking the convent?"

"I have never had any communication with Don Crisóstomo. "

"Don't attempt to deny it: what other reason had you for joiningthe conspiracy?"

"You had killed our father, we wished to avenge him, nothing more. Gofind two of your guards. They're at the foot of the precipice, wherewe threw them. You may kill me now, you will learn nothing more. "

There was silence and general surprise. 

"You will name your accomplices, " cried the alférez, brandishinghis cane. 

The accused man smiled disdainfully. The alférez talked apart withthe curate. 

"Take him where the bodies are, " he ordered. 

In a corner of the patio, on an old cart, five bodies were heapedunder a piece of soiled matting. 

"Do you know them?" asked the alférez, lifting the covering. Társilodid not reply. He saw the body of Sisa's husband, and that of hisbrother, pierced through with bayonet strokes. His face grew darker, and a great sigh escaped him; but he was mute. 

"Beat him till he confesses or dies!" cried the exasperated alférez. 

They led him back where the other prisoner, with chattering teeth, was invoking the saints. 

"Do you know this man?" demanded Father Salvi. 

"I never saw him before, " replied Társilo, looking at the poor wretchwith faint compassion. 

"Fasten him to the bench; gag him!" ordered the alférez, tremblingwith rage. When this was done, a guard began his sad task. 

Father Salvi, pale and haggard, rose trembling, and left thetribunal. In the street he saw a girl, leaning against the wall, rigid, motionless, her eyes far away. The sun shone full down onher. She seemed not to breathe but to count, one after another, the muffled blows inside. It was Társilo's sister. 

The torture continued until the soldier, breathless, let his armfall, and the alférez ordered his victim released. But Társilo stillrefused to speak. Then Doña Consolacion whispered in her husband's ear;he nodded. 

"To the well with him!" he said. 

The Filipinos know what that means. In Tagalo it is called timbaîn. Wedo not know who invented this judiciary process, but it must belongto antiquity. Truth coming out of a well is perhaps a sarcasticinterpretation. 

In the middle of the patio of the tribunal was a picturesque well curbof uncut stones. It had a rustic crank of bamboo; its water was slimyand putrid. All sorts of refuse had been thrown around it and in it. 

Toward this Társilo was led. He was very pale, and his lips trembled, if he was not praying. The pride he had shown appeared now to becrushed out; he seemed resigned to suffer. The poor wretch lookedenviously at the pile of bodies, and sighed heavily. 

"Speak then!" said the directorcillo. "You will be hung anyway. Whynot die without so much suffering?" But Társilo remained mute. 

When the well was reached, they bound his feet. He was to be letdown head foremost. He was fastened to the curb; the crank turned, and his body disappeared. The alférez noted the seconds with hiswatch. At the signal the body was drawn up, too pitiable to describe;but Társilo was still mute. Again he was let down, again he refusedto speak; when he was drawn up the third time, he no longer breathed. 

His torturers looked at each other in consternation. The alférezordered the body taken down, and they all examined it for signs oflife; but there were none. 

"See, " said a cuadrillero, at last, "he has strangled himself withhis tongue!"

"Put the body with the others, " ordered the alférez nervously. "Wemust examine the other unknown prisoner. "

L. 

ACCURST. 

The news spread that the prisoners were to be taken to the capital, and members of their families ran wildly from convent to barracks, frombarracks to tribunal, but found no consolation anywhere. The curatewas said to be ill. The guards dealt roughly with the supplicatingwomen, and the gobernadorcillo was more useless than ever. Thefriends of the accused, therefore, had collected near the prison, waiting for them to be brought out. Doray, Don Filipo's young wife, wandered back and forth, her child in her arms, both crying. TheCapitana Tinay called on her son Antonio, and brave Capitana Mariawatched the grating behind which were her twins, her only children. 

At two in the afternoon, an uncovered cart drawn by two oxen stoppedin front of the tribunal. It was surrounded, and there were loudthreats of breaking it. 

"Don't do that!" cried Capitana Maria; "do you wish them to go onfoot?" In a few moments, twenty soldiers came out and surroundedthe ox-cart; then the prisoners appeared. The first was Don Filipo, who smiled at his wife. Doray responded by bitter sobs, and wouldhave rushed to her husband, had not the guards held her back. Theson of Capitana Tinay was crying like a child, which did not helpto check the lamentations of his family. The twins were calm andgrave. Ibarra came last. He walked between two guards, his hand free;his eyes sought on all sides for a friendly face. 

"He is the guilty one!" cried numerous voices. "He is the guilty one, and his hands are unbound!"

"Bind my arms, " said Ibarra to his guards. 

"We have no orders. "

"Bind me!"

The soldiers obeyed. 

The alférez appeared on horseback, armed to the teeth, and followedby an escort of soldiers. The prisoners' friends saluted them withaffectionate words; only Ibarra was friendless. 

"What has my husband done to you?" sobbed Doray. "See my child;you have robbed him of his father!"

Grief began to turn to hate against the man who was said to haveprovoked the uprising. 

The alférez gave the order to start. 

"Coward!" cried a woman, as the cart moved off. "While the othersfought, you were in hiding! Coward!"

"Curses on you!" cried an old man, running after. "Cursed be the goldheaped up by your family to take away our peace. Accurst! accurst!"

"May you be hung, heretic!" cried a woman, picking up a stone andthrowing it after him. Her example was promptly followed, and a showerof dust and pebbles beat against the unhappy man. Crisóstomo borethis injustice without a sign. It was the farewell of his belovedcountry. He bent his head and sat motionless. Perhaps he was thinkingof a man beaten in the pueblo streets; perhaps of the body of a girl, washed up by the waves. 

The alférez felt obliged to drive away the crowd, but stones did notcease to fall, nor insult to sound. One mother only did not curseIbarra; the Capitana Maria watched her sons go, with compressed lipsand eyes full of silent tears. 

Of all the people in the open windows as he passed, none but theindifferent and curious showed Ibarra the least compassion. All hisfriends had deserted him, even Captain Basilio, who had forbiddenSinang to weep. When Crisóstomo passed the smoking ruins of his home, that home where he was born, and spent his happy childhood and youth, the tears, long repressed, gushed from his eyes, and bound as he was, he had to experience the bitterness of showing a grief that couldnot rouse the slightest sympathy. 

From a hill, an old man, pale and thin, wrapped in a mantle, andleaning on a stick, watched the sad procession. At the news of what hadhappened, old Tasio had left his bed, and tried to go to the pueblo, but his strength had failed him. He followed the cart with his eyes, until it disappeared in the distance. Then, after resting a while inthought, he got up painfully, and started toward his home, haltingfor breath at almost every step. The next day some shepherds foundhim dead under the shadow of his solitary house. 

LI. 

PATRIOTISM AND INTEREST. 

The telegraph had secretly transmitted to Manila the news of theuprising, and thirty-six hours later, the newspapers, their accountsexpanded, corrected, and mutilated by the attorney-general, talkedabout it with much mystery and no little menace. Meanwhile the privateaccounts, coming out of the convents, had gone from mouth to mouth, to the great alarm of those who heard them. The fact, distorted incountless versions, was accepted as true with more or less readiness, according to its fitness to the passions and ideas of the differenthearers. 

Though public tranquillity was not disturbed, the peace of thehearthstones became like that of a fish-pond, all on top; underneathwas commotion. Crosses, gold lace, office, power, honors of all kindsbegan to hover over one part of the population, like butterflies ina golden sunshine. For the others a dark cloud rose on the horizon, and against this ashy background stood in relief bars, chains, andthe fateful arms of the gibbet. Destiny presented the event to theManila imagination, like certain Chinese fans: one face painted black, the other gilded, and gorgeous with birds and flowers. 

There was great agitation in the convents. The provincials orderedtheir carriages, and held secret conferences; then presented themselvesat the palace, to offer their support to the imperiled government. 

"A Te Deum, a Te Deum!" said a monk in one convent. "Through thegoodness of God, our worth is made manifest in these perilous times!"

"This petty general, this prophet of evil, will gnaw his moustachesafter this little lesson, " said another. 

"What would have become of him without the religious orders?"

"The papers almost go to the point of demanding a mitre for BrotherSalvi. "

"And he will get it! He's consumed with desire for it!"

"Do you think so?"

"Why shouldn't he be? In these days mitres are given for the asking. "

"If mitres had eyes, and could see on what craniums----"

We spare our readers other comments of this nature. Let us enter thehome of a private citizen, and as we know few people at Manila, wewill knock at the door of Captain Tinong, the friendly and hospitablegentleman whom we saw inviting Ibarra, with so much insistence, to honor his house with a visit. 

In his rich and spacious drawing-room, at Tondo, Captain Tinong isseated in a great arm-chair, passing his hand despairingly acrosshis brow; while his weeping wife, the Capitana Tinchang, reads hima sermon, listened to by their two daughters, who are seated in acorner, mute with stupefaction. 

"Ah, Virgin of Antipolo!" cried the wife. "Ah, Virgin of the Rosary;I told you so! I told you so! Ah, Virgin of Carmel! Ah!"

"Why, no! You didn't tell me anything, " Captain Tinong finallyventured to reply. "On the contrary, you said I did well to keep up thefriendship with Captain Tiago, and to go to his house, because--becausehe was rich; and you said----"

"What did I say? I didn't say it! I didn't say anything! Ah, if youhad listened to me!"

"Now you throw the blame back on me!" said the captain bitterly, striking the arm of his chair with his fist. "Didn't you say I didwell to invite him to dinner, because, as he was rich----"

"It is true I said that, because--because it couldn't be helped;you had already invited him; and you did nothing but praise him. DonIbarra here, and Don Ibarra there, and Don Ibarra on all sides. ButI didn't advise you to see him or to speak to him at the dinner. Thatyou cannot deny!"

"Did I know, for instance, that he was to be there?"

"You ought to have known it!"

"How, if I wasn't even acquainted with him?"

"You ought to have been acquainted with him!"

"But, Tinchang, if it was the first time I had ever seen him or heardhim spoken of?"

"You ought to have seen him before, you ought to have heard himspoken of; that's what you are a man for! And now, you will be sentinto exile, our goods will be confiscated----Oh, if I were a man! ifI were a man!"

"And if you were a man, " asked the vexed husband, "what would you do?"

"What? Why, to-day, this very day, I should present myself to thecaptain-general, and offer to fight against the rebels, this very day!"

"But didn't you read what the Diario says? Listen! 'The infamous andabortive treason has been repressed with energy, force, and vigor, and the rebellious enemies of the country and their accomplices willpromptly feel all the weight and all the severity of the laws!' Yousee, there is no rebellion!"

"That makes no difference, you should present yourself; many did itin 1872, and so nobody harmed them. "

"Yes! it was done also by Father Bug----" But his wife's hands wereover his mouth. 

"Say it! Speak that name, so you may be hung to-morrow atBagumbayan! Don't you know it is enough to get you executed withoutso much as a trial? Go on, say it!"

But though Captain Tinong had wished, he couldn't have done it. Hiswife held his mouth with both her hands, squeezing his little headagainst the back of the chair. Perhaps the poor man would have diedof asphyxia, had not a new person come on the stage. 

It was their cousin, Don Primitivo, who knew Amat by heart; a man offorty, large and corpulent, and dressed with the utmost care. 

"Quid video?" he cried, upon entering; "what is going on?"

"Ah, cousin!" said the wife, weeping, and running to him, "I hadyou sent for, for I don't know what will become of us! What do youadvise--you who have studied Latin and understand reasoning----"

"But quid quæritis? Nihil est in intellectu quod prius non fuerit insensu. " And he sat down sedately. The Latin phrases seemed to havea tranquillizing effect; the husband and wife ceased to lament, andcame nearer, awaiting the counsel of their cousin's lips, as oncethe Greeks awaited the saving phrase of the oracle. 

"Why are you mourning? Ubinam gentium sumus?"

"You know the story of the uprising----"

"Well, what of it? Don Crisóstomo owes you?"

"No! but do you know that Tinong invited him to dinner, and that hebowed to him on the bridge----in the middle of the day? They willsay he was a friend of ours!"

"Friend?" cried the Latin, in alarm, rising; "tell me who your friendsare, and I'll tell you who you are yourself! Malum est negotium etest timendum rerum istarum horrendissimum resultatum. Hum!"

So many words in um terrified Captain Tinong. He became frightfullypale. His wife joined her hands in supplication. 

"Cousin, you speak to us now in Latin, but you know we haven'tstudied philosophy like you. Speak to us in Tagal or Castilian;give us your advice. "

"It is deplorable that you do not know Latin, my cousin: Latin veritiesare lies in Tagalo. Contra principi negantem fustibus est arguendum, is, in Latin, a truth as veritable as Noah's ark. I once put itin practice in Tagalo, and it was I who got beaten. It is indeeda misfortune that you do not know Latin! In Latin it might all bearranged. You have done wrong, very wrong, cousins, to make friendswith this young man. The just pay the dues of sinners. I feel almostlike advising you to make your will!" and he moved his head gloomilyfrom side to side. 

"Saturnino, what ails you?" cried Capitana Tinchang, terrified. "Ah! Heaven! he is dead! A doctor! Tinong, Tinongy!"

"He has only fainted, cousin; bring some water. " Don Primitivosprinkled his face, and the unfortunate man revived. 

"Come, come! don't weep! I've found a remedy. Put him in bed. Come, come! courage! I am with you, and all the wisdom of the ancients! Calla doctor, and this very day, cousin, go present yourself to thecaptain-general, and take him a present, a gold chain, a ring; sayit's a Christmas present. Shut the windows and doors, and if any oneasks for your husband, say he is seriously ill. Meanwhile I'll burnall the letters, papers, and books, as Don Crisóstomo did. Scriptitestes sunt! Go on to the captain's. Leave me to myself. In extremisextrema. Give me the power of a Roman dictator, and see whether Isave the coun--What am I saying--the cousin!"

He commenced to upset the shelves of the library, and tear papersand letters. Then he lighted a fire on the kitchen hearth, andthe auto-da-fé began. "'Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres, ' byCopernicus. Whew! ite, maledicte, in ignem kalanis!" he cried, throwingit to the flames. "Revolution and Copernicus! Crime upon crime! IfI don't get through soon enough! 'Liberty in the Philippines!' Whatbooks! Into the fire with them!" The most innocent works did not escapethe common fate. Cousin Primitivo was right. The just pay for sinners. 

Four or five hours later, at a fashionable gathering, the events ofthe day were being discussed. There were present a number of elderlymarried ladies and spinsters, together with the wives and daughtersof clerks of the administration, all in European costume, fanning andyawning. Among the men, who, by their manners, showed their position, as did the women, was a man advanced in age, small and one-armed, who was treated with distinction, and who kept a reserved distance. 

"I could never before suffer the monks and civil guards, because oftheir want of manners, " a portly lady was saying, "but now that Isee of what service they are, I could almost marry one of them. Iam patriotic. "

"I am of the very same mind, " said a very prim spinster. "But whata pity the former governor isn't with us!"

"He would put an end to the race of filibusterillos!"

"Don't they say there are many islands yet uninhabited?"

"If I were the captain-general----"

"Señoras, " said the one-armed man, "the captain-general knows hisduty. I understand he is greatly irritated, for he had loaded thisIbarra with favors. "

"Loaded him with favors!" repeated the slim gentlewoman, fanningfuriously. "What ingrates these Indians are! Is it possible to treatthem like human beings?"

"Do you know what I've heard?" asked an officer. 

"No! What is it? What do they say?"

"People worthy of confidence say that all this noise about buildinga school was a pure pretext; what he meant to make was a fort forhis own defence when he had been attacked. "

"What infamy! Would any one but an Indian be capable of it?"

"But they say this filibustero is the son of a Spaniard, " said theone-armed man, without looking at anybody. 

"There it is again, " cried the portly lady; "always these creoles! NoIndian understands anything about revolution. Train crows, and they'llpick your eyes out!"

"Do you know what I've heard?" asked a pretty creole, to turn theconversation. "The wife of Captain Tinong--you remember? We danced anddined at his house at the fête of Tondo--well, the wife of CaptainTinong gave the captain-general, this afternoon, a ring worth athousand pesos. She said it was a Christmas present. "

"Christmas doesn't come for a month. "

"She must have feared a downpour, " said the stout lady. 

"And so got under cover, " said the slim. 

"That is evident, " said the one-armed man, thoughtfully. "I fearthere is something back of this. "

"I also, " said the portly lady. "The wife of Captain Tinong is veryparsimonious--she has never sent us presents, though we have been toher house. When such a person lets slip a little present of a thousandlittle pesos----"

"But is it certain?" demanded the one-armed man. 

"Absolutely! His excellency's aide-de-camp told my cousin, to whomhe is engaged. I'm tempted to believe it's a ring she wore the dayof the fête. She's always covered with diamonds. "

"That's one way of advertising! Instead of buying a lay-figure orrenting a shop----"

The one-armed man found a pretext for leaving. 

Two hours later, when all the city was asleep, certain inhabitants ofTondo received an invitation through the medium of soldiers. Authoritycould not permit people of position and property to sleep in housesso ill guarded. In the fortress of Santiago, and in other governmentbuildings, their sleep would be more tranquil and refreshing. Amongthese people was the unfortunate Captain Tinong. 

LII. 

MARIA CLARA MARRIES. 

Captain Tiago was very happy. During these troublous times, no onehad paid any attention to him. He had not been arrested, he hadnot been subjected to cross-examination, to electrical machines, torepeated foot-baths in subterranean habitations, nor to any other ofthese pleasantries, well known to certain people who call themselvescivilized. His friends, that is to say, those who had been--for he hadrepudiated his Filipino friends as soon as they had become suspectsin the eyes of the Government--had returned home after several daysof vacation in the edifices of the State. The captain-general hadordered them out of his possessions, to the great displeasure ofthe one-armed man, who would have liked to celebrate the approachingChristmas in so numerous a company of the rich. 

Captain Tinong returned to his home, ill, pale, another man. Theexcursion had not been for his good. He said nothing, not even to greethis family, who laughed and wept over him, mad with joy. The poor manno longer left the house, for fear of saluting a filibuster. CousinPrimitivo himself, with all the wisdom of the ancients, could notdraw him out of his mutism. 

Stories like that of Captain Tinong's were numerous, and Captain Tiagowas not ignorant of them. He overflowed with gratitude, without knowingexactly to whom he owed these signal favors. Aunt Isabel attributedthe miracle to the Virgin of Antipolo. 

"I too, Isabel, " said Captain Tiago, "but the Virgin of Antipolo hasprobably not done it alone; my friends have helped, and my futureson-in-law, Señor Linares. "

It was whispered that Ibarra would be hung; that in spite of lackof proofs of his guilt, one thing had been found that confirmed theaccusation; the experts had declared the school was so designed thatit might pass for a rampart, faulty enough, to be sure, but what onemight expect of ignorant Indians. 

In the midst of affairs, Doña Victorina, Don Tiburcio, and Linaresarrived. As usual, Doña Victorina talked for the three men and herself;and her speech had undergone a remarkable change. She now claimedto have naturalized herself an Andalusian by suppressing d's andreplacing the sound of s by that of z. No one had been able to getthe idea out of her head; one would certainly have needed to get herfrizzes off the outside first. She talked of visits of Linares to thecaptain-general, and made continual insinuations as to advantages arelative of position would bring. 

"As we say, " she concluded, "he who sleeps in a good shade, leans ona good staff. "

"It's--it's the opposite, wife. "

Maria Clara was yet pale, though she had almost recovered from herillness. She kissed Doña Victorina, smiling rather sadly. 

"You have been saved, thanks to your connections!" said the doctora, with a significant look toward Linares. 

"God has protected my father, " said Maria, in a low voice. 

"Yes, Clarita, but the time of miracles is past. We, the Spaniards say, trust not in the Virgin, and save yourself by running. "

"It's--it's--the contrary, wife!"

"We must talk business, " said Doña Victorina, glancing at Maria. Mariafound a pretext for leaving, and went out, steadying herself bythe furniture. 

What was said in this conference was so sordid and mean, that we prefernot to report it. Suffice it to say that when they parted, they wereall satisfied. Captain Tiago said a little after to Aunt Isabel:

"Have the caterer notified that we give a reception to-morrow. Mariamust get ready for her marriage at once. When Señor Linares is ourson-in-law, all the palaces will be open to us; and every one willdie of envy. "

And so, toward eight o'clock the next evening, the house of CaptainTiago was once more full. This time, however, he had invited onlySpaniards, peninsular and Philippine, and Chinese. Yet many of ouracquaintances were there. Father Sibyla and Father Salvi, amongnumerous Franciscans and Dominicans; the old lieutenant of theMunicipal Guard, more sombre than ever; the alférez, recounting hisvictory for the thousandth time, looking over the heads of everybody, now that he is lieutenant with grade of commandant; Dr. Espadaña, who looks upon him with respect and fear, and avoids his glance;Doña Victorina, who cannot see him without anger. Linares had not yetarrived; as a person of importance, he must arouse expectation. Thereare beings so simple, that an hour's waiting for a man suffices tomake him great in their eyes. 

Maria Clara was the object of interest to all the women, and thesubject of unveiled comments. She had received these ceremoniously, without losing her air of sadness. 

"Bah! the proud little thing!" said one. 

"Rather pretty, " said another, "but he might have chosen some onewith a more intelligent face. "

"But the money, my dear! The good fellow is selling himself. "

In another group some one was saying:

"To marry when one's first fiancé is going to be hung!"

"That is what is called prudent; having a substitute at hand. "

"Then, when one becomes a widow----"

Possibly some of these remarks reached the ears of Maria Clara. Shegrew paler, her hand trembled, her lips seemed to move. 

In the circles of men the talk was loud, and naturally the recentevents were the subject of conversation. Everybody talked, evenDon Tiburcio. 

"I hear that your reverence is about to leave the pueblo, " said thenew lieutenant, whom his new star had made more amiable. 

"I have no more to do there; I am to be placed permanently atManila. And you?" asked Father Salvi. 

"I also leave the pueblo, " said he, throwing back his shoulders;"I am going with a flying column to rid the province of filibusters. "

Father Salvi surveyed his old enemy from top to toe, and turned awaywith a disdainful smile. 

"Is it known certainly what is to be done with the chieffilibuster?" asked a clerk. 

"You are speaking of Don Crisóstomo Ibarra, " replied another. "It isvery probable that he will be hung, like those of 1872, and it willbe very just. "

"He is to be exiled, " said the old lieutenant dryly. 

"Exile! Nothing but exile?" cried numerous voices at once. "Then itmust be for life!"

"If the young man had been more prudent, " went on Lieutenant Guevara, speaking so that all might hear, "if he had confided less in certainpersons to whom he wrote, if our attorney-generals did not interprettoo subtly what they read, it is certain he would have been released. "

This declaration of the old lieutenant's, and the tone of his voice, produced a great surprise among his auditors. No one knew what tosay. Father Salvi looked away, perhaps to avoid the dark look thelieutenant gave him. Maria Clara dropped some flowers she had in herhand, and became a statue. Father Sibyla, who knew when to be silent, seemed the only one who knew how to question. 

"You speak of letters, Señor Guevara. "

"I speak of what I am told by Don Crisóstomo's advocate, who isgreatly interested in his case, and defended him with zeal. Outsideof a few ambiguous lines in a letter addressed to a woman before heleft for Europe, in which the procurator found a project against theGovernment, and which the young man acknowledged as his, there wasno evidence against him. "

"And the declaration made by the tulisan before he died?"

"The defence destroyed that testimony. According to the witnesshimself, none of them had any communication with Ibarra, exceptone named José, who was his enemy, as was proven, and who afterwardcommitted suicide, probably from remorse. It was shown that the papersfound on his body were forgeries, for the writing was like Ibarra'sseven years ago, but not like his hand of to-day. For this it wassupposed that the accusing letter served as a model. "

"You tell us, " said a Franciscan, "that Ibarra addressed this letterto a woman. How did it come into the hands of the attorney-general?"

The lieutenant did not reply. He looked a moment at Father Salvi, and moved off, twisting the point of his gray beard. The otherscontinued to discuss the matter. 

"Even women seem to have hated him, " said one. 

"He burned his house, thinking to save himself, but he counted withouthis hostess!" said another, laughing. 

Meanwhile the old soldier approached Maria Clara. She had heard thewhole conversation, sitting motionless, the flowers lying at her feet. 

"You are a prudent young woman, " he said in a low voice; "by givingover the letter, you assured yourself a peaceful future. " And he movedon, leaving Maria with blank eyes and a face rigid. Fortunately AuntIsabel passed. Maria had strength to take her by the dress. 

"What is the matter?" cried the old lady, terrified at the face ofher niece. "You are ill, my child. You are ready to faint. What is it?"

"My heart--it's the crowd--so much light--I must rest. Tell my fatherI've gone to rest, " and steadying herself by her aunt's arm, she wentto her room. 

"You are cold! Do you want some tea?" asked Aunt Isabel at the door. 

Maria shook her head. "Go back, dear aunt, I only need to rest, "she said. She locked the door of her little room, and at the end ofher strength, threw herself down before a statue, sobbing:

"Mother, mother, my mother!"

The moonlight came in through the window, and through the door leadingto the balcony. The joyous music of the dance, peals of laughterand the hum of conversation, made their way to the chamber. Manytimes they knocked at her door--her father, her aunt, Doña Victorina, even Linares. Maria did not move or speak; now and then a hoarse sobescaped her. 

Hours passed. After the feast had come the ball. Maria's candle hadburned out, and she lay in the moonlight at the foot of the statue. Shehad not moved. Little by little the house became quiet. Aunt Isabelcame to knock once again at the door. 

"She must have gone to bed, " the old lady called back to herbrother. "At her age one sleeps like the dead. "

When all was still again, Maria rose slowly, and looked out on theterrace with its vines bathed in the white moonlight. 

"A peaceful future!--Sleep like the dead!" she said aloud; and shewent out. 

The city was mute; only now and then a carriage could be heardcrossing the wooden bridge. The girl raised her eyes toward the sky;then slowly she took off her rings, the pendants in her ears, thecomb and jewelled pins in her hair, and put them on the balustradeof the terrace; then she looked toward the river. 

A little bark, loaded with zacate, drew up to the landing-placebelow the terrace. One of the two men in it climbed the stone steps, sprang over the wall, and in a moment was mounting the stairway ofthe terrace. At sight of Maria, he stopped, then approached slowly. 

Maria drew back. 

"Crisóstomo!" she said, speaking low. She was terrified. 

"Yes, I am Crisóstomo, " replied the young man gravely. "An enemy, aman who has reason to hate me, Elias, has rescued me from the prisonwhere my friends put me. "

A sad silence followed his words. Maria Clara bent her head. Ibarrawent on:

"By the dead body of my mother, I pledged myself, whatever my future, to try to make you happy. I have risked all that remains to me, tocome and fulfil that promise. Chance lets me speak to you, Maria;we shall never see each other again. You are young now; some day yourconscience may upbraid you. Before I go away forever, I have come tosay that I forgive you. Be happy--farewell!" And he began to move away;she held him back. 

"Crisóstomo!" she said, "God has sent you to save me fromdespair. Listen and judge me!"

Ibarra tried gently to release himself. 

"I did not come to call you to account; I came to bring you peace. "

"I want none of the peace you bring me. I shall find peace formyself. You scorn me and your scorn will make even death bitter. "

He saw despair in her poor, young face, and asked what she wished. 

"I wish you to believe that I have always loved you. "

He smiled bitterly. 

"Ah! you doubt me! you doubt your childhood's friend, who has neverhidden a single thought from you! When you know my history, the sadstory that was told me in my illness, you will pity me; you will nolonger wear that smile. Why did they not let me die in the hands ofmy ignorant doctor! You and I should both have been happier!"

She stopped a moment, then went on:

"You force me to this, by your doubts; may my mother forgive me! Inone of the most painful of my nights of suffering, a man revealedto me the name of my real father. If he had not been my father, this man said, he might have pardoned the injury you had done him. "

Crisóstomo looked at Maria in amazement. 

"What was I to do?" she went on. "Ought I to sacrifice to my lovethe memory of my mother, the honor of him who was supposed to be myfather, and the good name of him who is? And could I have done thiswithout bringing dishonor upon you too?"

"But the proof--have you had proof? There must be proof!" saidCrisóstomo, staggered. 

Maria drew from her breast two papers. 

"Here are two letters of my mother's, " she said, "written in herremorse. Take them! Read them! My father left them in the housewhere he lived so many years. This man found them and kept them, andonly gave them up to me in exchange for your letter, as assurance, he said, that I would not marry you without my father's consent. Isacrificed my love! Who would not for a mother dead and two fathersliving? Could I foresee what use they would make of your letter? CouldI know I was sacrificing you too?"

Ibarra was speechless. Maria went on:

"What remained for me to do? Could I tell you who my father was? CouldI bid you ask his pardon, when he had so made your father suffer? CouldI say to my father, who perhaps would have pardoned you--could I say Iwas his daughter? Nothing remained but to suffer, to guard my secret, and die suffering! Now, my friend, now that you know the sad storyof your poor Maria, have you still for her that disdainful smile?"

"Maria, you are a saint!"

"I am blessed, because you believe in me----"

"And yet, " said Crisóstomo, remembering, "I heard you were tomarry----"

"Yes, " sobbed the poor child, "my father demands this sacrifice; hehas loved me, nourished me, and it did not belong to him to do it. Ishall pay him my debt of gratitude by assuring him peace through thisnew connection, but----"

"But?"

"I shall not forget my vows to you. "

"What is your thought?" asked Ibarra, trying to read in her clear eyes. 

"The future is obscure. I do not know what I shall do; but I knowthis, that I can love but once, and that I shall not belong to oneI do not love. And you? What will you do?"

"I am no longer anything but a fugitive--I shall fly, and my flightwill soon be overtaken, Maria----"

Maria took his head in her hands, kissed his lips again and again, then pushed him away with all her strength. 

"Fly, fly!" she said. "Adieu!"

Ibarra looked at her with shining eyes, but she made a sign, and hewent, reeling for an instant like a drunken man. He leaped the wallagain, and was back in the little bark. Maria Clara, leaning on thebalustrade, watched till it disappeared in the distance. 

LIII. 

THE CHASE ON THE LAKE. 

"Listen, señor, to the plan I have made, " said Elias, as he pulledtoward San Gabriel. "I will hide you, for the present, at the houseof a friend of mine at Mandaluyong. I will bring you there your gold, that I hid in the tomb of your great-grandfather. You will leavethe country----"

"To live among strangers?" interrupted Ibarra. 

"To live in peace. You have friends in Spain; you may get amnesty. "

Crisóstomo did not reply; he reflected in silence. 

They arrived at the Pasig, and the little bark began to go upstream. On the bridge was a horseman, hastening his course, and awhistle long and shrill was heard. 

"Elias, " said Ibarra at length, "your misfortunes are due to myfamily, and you have twice saved my life. I owe you both gratitudeand restitution of property. You advise me to leave the country;well, come with me. We will live as brothers. "

Elias shook his head. 

"It is true that I can never be happy in my country, but I can live anddie there, perhaps die for my country. That is always something. Butyou can do nothing for her, here and now. Perhaps some day----"

"Unless I, too, should become a tulisan, " mused Ibarra. 

"Señor, a month ago we sat in this same boat, under the light of thissame moon. You could not have said such a thing then. "

"No, Elias. Man seems to be an animal who varies with circumstances. Iwas blind then, unreasonable, I know not what. Now the bandage hasbeen torn from my eyes; the wretchedness and solitude of my prison hastaught me better. I see the cancer that is eating into our society;perhaps, after all, it must be torn out by violence. "

They came in sight of the governor-general's palace, and thought theysaw unusual movement among the guards. 

"Your escape must have been discovered, " said Elias. "Lie down, señor, so I can cover you with the zacate, for the sentinel at the magazinemay stop us. "

As Elias had anticipated, the sentinel challenged him, and asked himwhere he came from. 

"From Manila, with zacate for the iodores and curates, " said he, imitating the accent of the people of Pandakan. 

A sergeant came out. 

"Sulung, " said he to Elias, "I warn you not to take any one into yourboat. A prisoner has just escaped. If you capture him and bring himto me, I will give you a fine reward. "

"Good, señor; what is his description?"

"He wears a long coat, and speaks Spanish. Look out for him!"

The bark moved off. Elias turned and saw the sentinel still standingby the bank. 

"We shall lose a few minutes, " he said; "we shall have to go intothe rio Beata, to make him think I'm from Peña Francia. You shallsee the rio of which Francisco Baltazar sang. "

The pueblo was asleep in the moonlight. Crisóstomo sat up to admirethe death-like peace of nature. The rio was narrow, and its banks wereplains strewn with zacate. Elias discharged his cargo, and from thegrass where they were hidden, drew some of those sacks of palm leavesthat are called bayones. Then they pushed off again, and soon wereback on the Pasig. From time to time they talked of indifferent things. 

"Santa Ana!" said Ibarra, speaking low; "do you know thatbuilding?" They were passing the country house of the Jesuits. 

"I've spent many happy days there, " said Elias. "When I was a child, we came here every month. Then I was like other people; had a family, a fortune; dreamed, thought I saw a future. "

They were silent until they came to Malapad-na-batô. Those who havesometimes cut a wake in the Pasig, on one of these magnificent nightsof the Philippines, when from the limpid azure the moon pours out apoetic melancholy, when shadows hide the miseries of men and silenceputs out their sordid words--those who have done this will know someof the thoughts of these two young men. 

At Malapad-na-batô, the rifleman was sleepy, and seeing no hope ofplunder in the little bark, according to the tradition of his corpsand the habit of this post, he let it pass. The guard at Pasig wasno more disquieting. 

The moonlight was growing pale, and dawn was beginning to tint the eastwith roses, when they arrived at the lake, smooth and placid as a greatmirror. At a distance they saw a gray mass, advancing little by little. 

"It's the falúa, " said Elias under his breath. "Lie down, señor, and I will cover you with these bags. "

The outlines of the government boat grew more and more distinct. 

"She's getting between us and the shore, " said Elias, uneasily; andvery gradually he changed the direction of his bark. To his terrorhe saw the falúa make the same change, and heard a voice hailinghim. He stopped and thought. The shore was yet some distance away;they would soon be within range of the ship's guns. He thought he wouldgo back to Pasig, his boat could escape the other in that direction;but fate was against him. Another boat was coming from Pasig, and init glittered the helmets and bayonets of the Civil Guards. 

"We are caught!" he said, and the color left his face. He looked athis sturdy arms, and took the only resolution possible; he began torow with all his might toward the island of Talim. The sun was comingup. The bark shot rapidly over the water; on the falúa, which changedits tack, Elias saw men signalling. 

"Do you know how to manage a bark?" he demanded of Ibarra. 

"Yes. Why?"

"Because we are lost unless I take to the water to throw them off thetrack. They will pursue me. I swim and dive well. That will turn themaway from you, and you must try to save yourself. "

"No, stay, and let us sell our lives dear!"

"It is useless; we have no arms; they would shoot us down like birds. "

As he spoke, they heard a hiss in the water, followed by a report. 

"You see!" said Elias, laying down his oar. "We will meet, Christmasnight, at the tomb of your grandfather. Save yourself! God has drawnme out of greater perils than this!"

He took off his shirt; a ball picked it out of his hands, and tworeports followed. Without showing alarm, he grasped the hand Ibarrastretched up from the bottom of the boat, then stood upright andleaped into the water, pushing off the little craft with his foot. 

Outcries were heard from the falúa. Promptly, and at some distance, appeared the head of the young man, returning to the surface tobreathe, then disappearing immediately. 

"There, there he is, " cried several voices, and balls whistled. 

The falúa and the bark from Pasig set out in pursuit of the swimmer. Aslight wake showed his direction, more and more removed from Ibarra'slittle bark, which drifted as if abandoned. Every time Elias raisedhis head to breathe, the guards and the men of the falúa fired on him. 

The chase went on. The little bark with Ibarra was left farbehind. Elias was not more than a hundred yards from the shore. Therowers were getting tired, but so was Elias, for he repeatedlyraised his head above the water, but always in a new direction, todisconcert his pursuers. The deceiving wake no longer told the placeof the swimmer. For the last time they saw him, sixty feet from theshore. The soldiers fired--minutes and minutes passed. Nothing againdisturbed the tranquil surface of the lake. 

A half hour later, one of the rowers claimed to have seen traces ofblood near the shore, but his comrades shook their heads in doubt. 

LIV. 

FATHER DÁMASO EXPLAINS HIMSELF. 

In vain the precious wedding presents heaped up; not the brilliantsin their velvet cases, not embroideries of piña nor pieces of silk, drew the eyes of Maria Clara. She saw nothing but the journal inwhich was told the death of Ibarra, drowned in the lake. 

Suddenly she felt two hands over her eyes, clasping her head, whilea merry voice said to her:

"Who is it? Who is it?"

Maria sprang up in fright. 

"Little goose! Did I scare you, eh? You weren't expecting me, eh? Why, I've come from the province to be at your marriage----" And with asatisfied smile, Father Dámaso gave her his hand to kiss. She took it, trembling, and carried it respectfully to her lips. 

"What is it, Maria?" demanded the Franciscan, troubled, and losinghis gay smile. "Your hand is cold, you are pale--are you ill, littlegirl?" And he drew her tenderly to him, took both her hands andquestioned her with his eyes. 

"Won't you confide in your godfather?" he asked in a tone ofreproach. "Come, sit down here and tell me your griefs, as youused to do when you were little, and wanted some tapers to makewax dolls. You know I've always loved you--never scolded you----"and his voice became very tender. Maria began to cry. 

"Why do you cry, my child? Have you quarrelled with Linares?"

Maria put her hands over her eyes. 

"No; it's not about him--now!"

Father Dámaso looked startled. "And you won't tell me yoursecrets? Have I not always tried to satisfy your slightest wish?"

Maria raised to him her eyes full of tears, looked at him a moment, then sobbed afresh. 

"My child!"

Maria came slowly to him, fell on her knees at his feet, and raisingher face wet with tears, asked in a voice scarcely audible:

"Do you still love me?"

"Child!"

"Then--protect my father and make him break off my marriage. " Andshe told him of her last interview with Ibarra, omitting everythingabout the secret of her birth. 

Father Dámaso could scarcely believe what he heard. She was talkingcalmly now, without tears. 

"So long as he lived, " she went on, "I could struggle, I could hope, I had confidence; I wished to live to hear about him; but now--thatthey have killed him, I have no longer any reason to live and suffer. "

"And--Linares----"

"If he had lived, I might have married--for my father's sake; butnow that he is dead, I want the convent--or the grave. "

"You loved him so?" stammered Father Dámaso. Maria did not reply. Thefather bent his head on his breast. 

"My child, " he said at last in a broken voice, "forgive me forhaving made you unhappy; I did not know I was doing it! I thoughtof your future. How could I let you marry a man of this country, tosee you, later on, an unhappy wife and mother? I set myself with allmy strength to get this love out of your mind, I used all means--foryou, only for you. If you had been his wife, you would have wept forthe unfortunate position of your husband, exposed to all sorts ofdangers, and without defence; a mother, you would have wept for yourchildren; had you educated them, you would have prepared them a sadfuture; they would have become enemies of religion; the gallows orexile would have been their portion; had you left them in ignorance, you would have seen them tyrannized over and degraded. I could notconsent to this. That is why I found for you a husband whose childrenshould command, not obey; punish, not suffer--I knew your childhood'sfriend was good, and I liked him, as I did his father; but I hatedthem both for your sake, because I love you as one loves a daughter, because I idolize you--I have no other love; I have seen you grow up, there isn't an hour in which I do not think of you, you are my onejoy----" And Father Dámaso began to cry like a child. 

"Then if you love me, do not make me forever miserable; he is dead, I wish to be a nun. "

The old man rested his forehead in his hand. 

"A nun, a nun!" he repeated. "You do not know, my child, all thatis hidden behind the walls of a convent, you do not know! I woulda thousand times rather see you unhappy in the world than in thecloister. Here your complaints can be heard; there you have only thewalls! You are beautiful, very beautiful; you were not made to renouncethe world. Believe me, my child, time alters all things; later youwill forget, you will love, you will love your husband--Linares. "

"Either the convent or--death, " repeated Maria, with no sign ofyielding. 

"Maria, " said the father, "I am not young. I cannot watch over youalways; choose something else, find another love, another husband, anything, what you will!"

"I choose the convent. "

"My God, my God!" cried the priest, burying his face in his hands. "Youpunish me, be it so! But watch over my daughter!--Maria, you shallbe a nun. I cannot have you die. "

Maria took his hands, pressed them, kissed them as she knelt. 

"Godfather, my godfather, " she said. 

"Oh, God!" cried the heart of the father, "thou dost exist, becausethou dost chastise! Take vengeance upon me, but do not strike theinnocent; save my daughter!"

LV. 

THE NOCHEBUENA. 

Up on the side of the mountain, where a torrent springs, a cabin hidesunder the trees, built on their gnarled trunks. Over its thatched roofcreep the branches of the gourd, heavy with fruit and flowers. Antlersand wild boars' heads, some of them bearing their long tusks, ornamentthe rustic hearth. It is the home of a Tagalo family living from thechase and the cup of the woods. 

Under the shade of a tree, the grandfather is making brooms from theveins of palm leaves, while a girl fills a basket with eggs, lemons, and vegetables. Two children, a boy and a girl, are playing besideanother boy, pale and serious, with great, deep eyes. We know him. Itis Sisa's son, Basilio. 

"When your foot is well, " said the little boy, "you will go with usto the top of the mountain and drink deer's blood and lemon juice;then you'll grow fat; then I'll show you how to jump from one rockto another, over the torrent. "

Basilio smiled sadly, examined the wound in his foot, and looked atthe sun, which was shining splendidly. 

"Sell these brooms, Lucia, " said the grandfather to the young girl, "and buy something for your brothers. To-day is Christmas. "

"Fire-crackers, I want fire-crackers!" cried the little boy. 

"And what do you want?" the grandfather asked Basilio. The boy gotup and went to the old man. 

"Señor, " he said, "have I been ill more than a month?"

"Since we found you, faint and covered with wounds, two moons havepassed. We thought you were going to die----"

"May God reward you; we are very poor, " said Basilio; "but as to-dayis Christmas, I want to go to the pueblo to see my mother and mylittle brother. They must have been looking everywhere for me. "

"But, son, you aren't well yet, and it is far to your pueblo. Youwould not get there till midnight. My sons will want to see you whenthey come from the forest. "

"You have many children, but my mother has only us two; perhaps shethinks me dead already. I want to give her a present to-night--a son!"

The grandfather felt his eyes grow dim. 

"You are as sensible as an old man! Go, find your mother, give herher present! Go, my son. God and the Lord Jesus go with you!"

"What, you're not going to stay and see my fire-crackers?" said thelittle boy. 

"I want you to play hide and seek!" pouted the little girl; "nothingelse is so much fun. "

Basilio smiled and his eyes filled with tears. 

"I shall come back soon, " he said, "and bring my little brother;then you can play with him. But I must go away now with Lucia. "

"Don't forget us!" said the old man, "and come back when you arewell. " The children all accompanied him to the bridge of bamboo overthe rushing torrent. Lucia, who was going to the first pueblo withher basket, made him lean on her arm; the other children watched themboth out of sight. 

The north wind was blowing, and the dwellers in San Diego weretrembling with cold. It was the Nochebuena, and yet the pueblo wassad. Not a paper lantern hung in the windows, no noise in the housesannouncing the joyful time, as in other years. 

At the home of Captain Basilio, the master of the house is talkingwith Don Filipo; the troubles of these times have made them friends. 

"You are in rare luck, to be released at just this moment, " CaptainBasilio was saying to his guest. "They've burned your books, that'strue; but others have fared worse. "

A woman came up to the window and looked in. Her eyes were brilliant, her face haggard, her hair loose; the moon made her uncanny. 

"Sisa?" asked Don Filipo, in surprise. "I thought she was witha physician. "

Captain Basilio smiled bitterly. 

"The doctor feared he might be taken for a friend of Don Crisóstomo's, so he drove her out!"

"What else has happened since I went away? I know we have a new curateand a new alférez----"

"Well, the head sacristan was found dead, hung in the garret of hishouse. And old Tasio is dead. They buried him in the Chinese cemetery. "

"Poor Don Astasio!" sighed Don Filipo. "And his books?"

"The devout thought it would be pleasing to God if they shouldburn them; nothing escaped, not even the works of Cicero. Thegobernadorcillo was no check whatsoever. "

They were both silent. At that moment, the melancholy song of Sisawas heard. A child passed, limping, and running toward the place fromwhich the song came; it was Basilio. The little fellow had foundhis home deserted and in ruins. He had been told about his mother;of Crispin he had not heard a word. He had dried his tears, smotheredhis grief, and without resting, started out to find Sisa. 

She had come to the house of the new alférez. As usual, a sentinelwas pacing up and down. When she saw the soldier, she took to flight, and ran as only a wild thing can. Basilio saw her, and fearing tolose sight of her, forgot his wounded foot, and followed in hotpursuit. Dogs barked, geese cackled, windows opened here and there, to give passage to the heads of the curious; others banged to, fromfear of a new night of trouble. At this rate, the runners were soonoutside the pueblo, and Sisa began to moderate her speed. There wasa long distance between her and her pursuer. 

"Mother!" he cried, when he could distinguish her. 

No sooner did Sisa hear the voice than she again began to run madly. 

"Mother, it's I, " cried the child in despair. Sisa paid noattention. The poor little fellow followed breathless. They were nowon the border of the wood. 

Bushes, thorny twigs, and the roots of trees hindered theirprogress. The child followed the vision of his mother, made clear nowand then by the moon's rays across the heavy foliage. They were in themysterious wood of the family of Ibarra. Basilio often stumbled andfell, but he got up again, without feeling his hurts, or rememberinghis lameness. All his life was concentrated in his eyes, which neverlost the beloved figure from view. 

They crossed the brook, which was singing gently, and to his greatsurprise, Basilio saw his mother press through the thicket andenter the wooden door that closed the tomb of the old Spaniard. Hetried to follow her, but the door was fast. Sisa was defending theentrance--holding the door closed with all her strength. 

"Mother, it's I, it's I, Basilio, your son!" cried the child, fallingfrom fatigue. But Sisa would not budge. Her feet braced against theground, she offered an energetic resistance. Basilio examined the wall, but could not scale it. Then he made the tour of the grave. He saw abranch of the great tree, crossed by a branch of another. He beganto climb, and his filial love did miracles. He went from branch tobranch, and came over the tomb at last. 

The noise he made in the branches startled Sisa. She turned andwould have fled, but her son, letting himself drop from the tree, seized her in his arms and covered her with kisses; then, worn out, he fainted away. 

Sisa saw his forehead bathed in blood. She bent over him, and hereyes, almost out of their sockets, were fixed on his face, whichstirred the sleeping cells of her brain. Then something like a sparkflashed through them. Sisa recognized her son, and with a cry fellon his senseless body, pressing it to her heart, kissing him andweeping. Then mother and son were both motionless. 

When Basilio came to himself, he found his mother withoutconsciousness. He called her, lavished tender names on her, and seeingshe did not wake, ran for water and sprinkled her pale face. But theeyes remained closed. In terror, Basilio put his ear to her heart, but her heart no longer beat. The poor child embraced the dead bodyof his mother, weeping bitterly. 

On this night of joy for so many children, who, by the warm hearth, celebrate the feast which recalls the first loving look Heaven gaveto earth; on this night when all good Christian families eat, laugh, and dance, 'mid love and kisses; on this night which, for the childrenof cold countries, is magical with its Christmas trees, Basilio sitsin solitude and grief. Who knows? Perhaps around the hearth of thesilent Father Salvi are children playing; perhaps they are singing:

 "Christmas comes, And Christmas goes. "

The child was sobbing. When he raised his head, a man was lookingsilently down at him. 

"You are her son?" he asked. 

Basilio nodded his head. 

"What are you going to do?"

"Bury her. "

"In the cemetery?"

"I have no money--if you would help me----"

"I am too weak, " said the man, sinking gradually to the ground. "I amwounded. For two days I have not eaten or slept. Has no one been hereto-night?" And the man sat still, watching the child's attractive face. 

"Listen, " said he, in a voice growing feebler, "I too shall be deadbefore morning. Twenty paces from here, beyond the spring, is a pileof wood; put our two bodies on it, and light the fire. "

Basilio listened. 

"Then, if nobody comes, you are to dig here; you will find a lot ofgold, and it will be all yours. Study!"

The voice of the unknown man sank lower and lower. Then he turnedhis head toward the east, and said softly, as though praying:

"I die without seeing the light of dawn on my country. You who shallsee it and greet it, do not forget those who fell in the night!"

The Archbishop and the Lady

By Mrs. Schuyler Crowninshield

A story of modern society which only a writer of very wide and veryexceptional social experience could have written. It is cosmopolitan, yet full of romance; modern, yet informed with a delicate old-worldcharm. The characters are put before us with a consummate knowledgeof the world and a penetrating insight into human nature. 

Cloth. 12mo; 5-1/8 × 7-3/4. About $1. 50. 

April's Sowing

By GERTRUDE HALL

Miss Gertrude Hall is known to the world as a poet and as a tellerof tales, but with her first novel she reveals new gifts, for it isa modern story tuned to a note of light comedy that she has neverstruck before. "April's Sowing" is that most widely appreciated thingin letters, a young love story. 

Illustrated by Orson Lowell. With decorative cover, frontispiece, title page in color, and ornamental head and tail pieces. Cloth. 12mo;5-1/8 × 7-3/4. $1. 50. 

The Darlingtons

By ELMORE ELLIOTT PEAKE

A novel of American life in the middle West which deals principallywith the fortunes of a family whose members are the social andfinancial leaders of their section. The heroine is a girl whoseeducation is broad enough to enable her to assist her father inmanaging a railroad. The hero is a Methodist minister of liberaltendencies. The story is told with remarkable fidelity and unusualdramatic interest. 

Cloth. 12mo; 5-1/8 × 7-3/4. About $1. 50. 

Two Unknown Phases of Life Made Known in Fiction

The Powers That Prey

By Josiah Flynt and Francis Walton

The authors of the ten closely related stories which make up thisvolume have spent most of their lives studying the sociologicalproblems of tramp and criminal life. Mr. Flynt writes: "So far as Iam concerned, the book is the result of ten years of wandering withtramps and two years spent with various police organizations. " Thestories are a decided contribution to sociology, and yet, viewed asstories, they have unusual interest because of their remarkable vigorand their intense realism. 

Fully Illustrated. Cloth. 12mo; 5-1/8 × 7-3/4. $1. 25. 

The Soul of the Street

By NORMAN DUNCAN

"The Soul of the Street" has a unity lacking in many volumes of shortstories. They deal with Syrians and Turks, queer folk with queer ways, and Mr. Duncan has gotten at them with such sympathetic insight as onlythe poetic heart and the story-teller's eye can possess. Character, humor, poignant pathos, and the sad grotesque conjunctions of oldand new civilizations are expressed through the medium of a stylethat has distinction, and strikes a note of rare personality. 

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