The Reign of Greed

 A Complete English Version of _El Filibusterismo_ from the Spanish of José Rizal

 By

 Charles Derbyshire

 Manila Philippine Education Company 1912

Copyright, 1912, by Philippine Education Company. Entered at Stationers' Hall. Registrado en las Islas Filipinas. _All rights reserved_. 

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION

El Filibusterismo, the second of José Rizal's novels of Philippinelife, is a story of the last days of the Spanish régime in thePhilippines. Under the name of _The Reign of Greed_ it is for thefirst time translated into English. Written some four or five yearsafter _Noli Me Tangere_, the book represents Rizal's more maturejudgment on political and social conditions in the islands, and inits graver and less hopeful tone reflects the disappointments anddiscouragements which he had encountered in his efforts to lead theway to reform. Rizal's dedication to the first edition is of specialinterest, as the writing of it was one of the grounds of accusationagainst him when he was condemned to death in 1896. It reads:

 "To the memory of the priests, Don Mariano Gomez (85 years old), Don José Burgos (30 years old), and Don Jacinto Zamora (35 years old). Executed in Bagumbayan Field on the 28th of February, 1872. 

 "The Church, by refusing to degrade you, has placed in doubt the crime that has been imputed to you; the Government, by surrounding your trials with mystery and shadows, causes the belief that there was some error, committed in fatal moments; and all the Philippines, by worshiping your memory and calling you martyrs, in no sense recognizes your culpability. In so far, therefore, as your complicity in the Cavite mutiny is not clearly proved, as you may or may not have been patriots, and as you may or may not have cherished sentiments for justice and for liberty, I have the right to dedicate my work to you as victims of the evil which I undertake to combat. And while we await expectantly upon Spain some day to restore your good name and cease to be answerable for your death, let these pages serve as a tardy wreath of dried leaves over your unknown tombs, and let it be understood that every one who without clear proofs attacks your memory stains his hands in your blood!

 J. Rizal. "

A brief recapitulation of the story in _Noli Me Tangere_ (The SocialCancer) is essential to an understanding of such plot as there isin the present work, which the author called a "continuation" of thefirst story. 

Juan Crisostomo Ibarra is a young Filipino, who, after studyingfor seven years in Europe, returns to his native land to find thathis father, a wealthy landowner, has died in prison as the resultof a quarrel with the parish curate, a Franciscan friar named PadreDamaso. Ibarra is engaged to a beautiful and accomplished girl, MariaClara, the supposed daughter and only child of the rich Don Santiagode los Santos, commonly known as "Capitan Tiago, " a typical Filipinocacique, the predominant character fostered by the friar régime. 

Ibarra resolves to forego all quarrels and to work for the bettermentof his people. To show his good intentions, he seeks to establish, at his own expense, a public school in his native town. He meets withostensible support from all, especially Padre Damaso's successor, a young and gloomy Franciscan named Padre Salvi, for whom Maria Claraconfesses to an instinctive dread. 

At the laying of the corner-stone for the new schoolhouse asuspicious accident, apparently aimed at Ibarra's life, occurs, butthe festivities proceed until the dinner, where Ibarra is grossly andwantonly insulted over the memory of his father by Fray Damaso. Theyoung man loses control of himself and is about to kill the friar, who is saved by the intervention of Maria Clara. 

Ibarra is excommunicated, and Capitan Tiago, through his fear of thefriars, is forced to break the engagement and agree to the marriage ofMaria Clara with a young and inoffensive Spaniard provided by PadreDamaso. Obedient to her reputed father's command and influencedby her mysterious dread of Padre Salvi, Maria Clara consents tothis arrangement, but becomes seriously ill, only to be saved bymedicines sent secretly by Ibarra and clandestinely administered bya girl friend. 

Ibarra succeeds in having the excommunication removed, but before hecan explain matters an uprising against the Civil Guard is secretlybrought about through agents of Padre Salvi, and the leadership isascribed to Ibarra to ruin him. He is warned by a mysterious friend, an outlaw called Elias, whose life he had accidentally saved; butdesiring first to see Maria Clara, he refuses to make his escape, and when the outbreak occurs he is arrested as the instigator of itand thrown into prison in Manila. 

On the evening when Capitan Tiago gives a ball in his Manila house tocelebrate his supposed daughter's engagement, Ibarra makes his escapefrom prison and succeeds in seeing Maria Clara alone. He begins toreproach her because it is a letter written to her before he went toEurope which forms the basis of the charge against him, but she clearsherself of treachery to him. The letter had been secured from her byfalse representations and in exchange for two others written by hermother just before her birth, which prove that Padre Damaso is herreal father. These letters had been accidentally discovered in theconvento by Padre Salvi, who made use of them to intimidate the girland get possession of Ibarra's letter, from which he forged othersto incriminate the young man. She tells him that she will marry theyoung Spaniard, sacrificing herself thus to save her mother's nameand Capitan Tiago's honor and to prevent a public scandal, but thatshe will always remain true to him. 

Ibarra's escape had been effected by Elias, who conveys him in abanka up the Pasig to the Lake, where they are so closely beset bythe Civil Guard that Elias leaps into the water and draws the pursuersaway from the boat, in which Ibarra lies concealed. 

On Christmas Eve, at the tomb of the Ibarras in a gloomy wood, Elias appears, wounded and dying, to find there a boy named Basiliobeside the corpse of his mother, a poor woman who had been drivento insanity by her husband's neglect and abuses on the part of theCivil Guard, her younger son having disappeared some time before inthe convento, where he was a sacristan. Basilio, who is ignorant ofElias's identity, helps him to build a funeral pyre, on which hiscorpse and the madwoman's are to be burned. 

Upon learning of the reported death of Ibarra in the chase on the Lake, Maria Clara becomes disconsolate and begs her supposed godfather, Fray Damaso, to put her in a nunnery. Unconscious of her knowledge oftheir true relationship, the friar breaks down and confesses that allthe trouble he has stirred up with the Ibarras has been to prevent herfrom marrying a native, which would condemn her and her children tothe oppressed and enslaved class. He finally yields to her entreatiesand she enters the nunnery of St. Clara, to which Padre Salvi is soonassigned in a ministerial capacity. 

 O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? How will you ever straighten up this shape-; Touch it again with immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light; Rebuild in it the music and the dream; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

 O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, How will the future reckon with this man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings-- With those who shaped him to the thing he is-- When this dumb terror shall reply to God, After the silence of the centuries?

Edwin Markham

CONTENTS

 I. On the Upper Deck II. On the Lower Deck III. Legends IV. Cabesang Tales V. A Cochero's Christmas Eve VI. Basilio VII. Simoun VIII. Merry Christmas IX. Pilates X. Wealth and Want XI. Los Baños XII. Placido Penitente XIII. The Class in Physics XIV. In the House of the Students XV. Señor Pasta XVI. The Tribulations of a Chinese XVII. The Quiapo Pair XVIII. Legerdemain XIX. The Fuse XX. The Arbiter XXI. Manila Types XXII. The Performance XXIII. A Corpse XXIV. Dreams XXV. Smiles and Tears XXVI. Pasquinades XXVII. The Friar and the Filipino XXVIII. Tatakut XXIX. Exit Capitan Tiago XXX. Juli XXXI. The High Official XXXII. Effect of the Pasquinades XXXIII. La Ultima Razón XXXIV. The Wedding XXXV. The Fiesta XXXVI. Ben-Zayb's Afflictions XXXVII. The Mystery XXXVIII. Fatality XXXIX. Conclusion

CHAPTER I

ON THE UPPER DECK

 Sic itur ad astra. 

One morning in December the steamer _Tabo_ was laboriously ascendingthe tortuous course of the Pasig, carrying a large crowd of passengerstoward the province of La Laguna. She was a heavily built steamer, almost round, like the _tabú_ from which she derived her name, quite dirty in spite of her pretensions to whiteness, majestic andgrave from her leisurely motion. Altogether, she was held in greataffection in that region, perhaps from her Tagalog name, or from thefact that she bore the characteristic impress of things in the country, representing something like a triumph over progress, a steamer that wasnot a steamer at all, an organism, stolid, imperfect yet unimpeachable, which, when it wished to pose as being rankly progressive, proudlycontented itself with putting on a fresh coat of paint. Indeed, thehappy steamer was genuinely Filipino! If a person were only reasonablyconsiderate, she might even have been taken for the Ship of State, constructed, as she had been, under the inspection of _Reverendos_and _Ilustrísimos_.... 

Bathed in the sunlight of a morning that made the waters of the riversparkle and the breezes rustle in the bending bamboo on its banks, there she goes with her white silhouette throwing out great cloudsof smoke--the Ship of State, so the joke runs, also has the vice ofsmoking! The whistle shrieks at every moment, hoarse and commandinglike a tyrant who would rule by shouting, so that no one on boardcan hear his own thoughts. She menaces everything she meets: now shelooks as though she would grind to bits the _salambaw_, insecurefishing apparatus which in their movements resemble skeletons ofgiants saluting an antediluvian tortoise; now she speeds straighttoward the clumps of bamboo or against the amphibian structures, _karihan_, or wayside lunch-stands, which, amid _gumamelas_ and otherflowers, look like indecisive bathers who with their feet already inthe water cannot bring themselves to make the final plunge; at times, following a sort of channel marked out in the river by tree-trunks, she moves along with a satisfied air, except when a sudden shockdisturbs the passengers and throws them off their balance, all theresult of a collision with a sand-bar which no one dreamed was there. 

Moreover, if the comparison with the Ship of State is not yet complete, note the arrangement of the passengers. On the lower deck appear brownfaces and black heads, types of Indians, [1] Chinese, and mestizos, wedged in between bales of merchandise and boxes, while there on theupper deck, beneath an awning that protects them from the sun, areseated in comfortable chairs a few passengers dressed in the fashion ofEuropeans, friars, and government clerks, each with his _puro_ cigar, and gazing at the landscape apparently without heeding the effortsof the captain and the sailors to overcome the obstacles in the river. 

The captain was a man of kindly aspect, well along in years, an oldsailor who in his youth had plunged into far vaster seas, but who nowin his age had to exercise much greater attention, care, and vigilanceto avoid dangers of a trivial character. And they were the same foreach day: the same sand-bars, the same hulk of unwieldy steamer wedgedinto the same curves, like a corpulent dame in a jammed throng. So, at each moment, the good man had to stop, to back up, to go forward athalf speed, sending--now to port, now to starboard--the five sailorsequipped with long bamboo poles to give force to the turn the rudderhad suggested. He was like a veteran who, after leading men throughhazardous campaigns, had in his age become the tutor of a capricious, disobedient, and lazy boy. 

Doña Victorina, the only lady seated in the European group, could saywhether the _Tabo_ was not lazy, disobedient, and capricious--DoñaVictorina, who, nervous as ever, was hurling invectives against thecascos, bankas, rafts of coconuts, the Indians paddling about, andeven the washerwomen and bathers, who fretted her with their mirth andchatter. Yes, the _Tabo_ would move along very well if there were noIndians in the river, no Indians in the country, yes, if there werenot a single Indian in the world--regardless of the fact that thehelmsmen were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers, Indians ninety-nine per cent, of the passengers, and she herself alsoan Indian if the rouge were scratched off and her pretentious gownremoved. That morning Doña Victorina was more irritated than usualbecause the members of the group took very little notice of her, reason for which was not lacking; for just consider--there could befound three friars, convinced that the world would move backwards thevery day they should take a single step to the right; an indefatigableDon Custodio who was sleeping peacefully, satisfied with his projects;a prolific writer like Ben-Zayb (anagram of Ibañez), who believed thatthe people of Manila thought because he, Ben-Zayb, was a thinker;a canon like Padre Irene, who added luster to the clergy with hisrubicund face, carefully shaven, from which towered a beautiful Jewishnose, and his silken cassock of neat cut and small buttons; and awealthy jeweler like Simoun, who was reputed to be the adviser andinspirer of all the acts of his Excellency, the Captain-General--justconsider the presence there of these pillars _sine quibus non_ of thecountry, seated there in agreeable discourse, showing little sympathyfor a renegade Filipina who dyed her hair red! Now wasn't this enoughto exhaust the patience of a female Job--a sobriquet Doña Victorinaalways applied to herself when put out with any one!

The ill-humor of the señora increased every time the captain shouted"Port, " "Starboard" to the sailors, who then hastily seized theirpoles and thrust them against the banks, thus with the strength oftheir legs and shoulders preventing the steamer from shoving its hullashore at that particular point. Seen under these circumstances theShip of State might be said to have been converted from a tortoiseinto a crab every time any danger threatened. 

"But, captain, why don't your stupid steersmen go in thatdirection?" asked the lady with great indignation. 

"Because it's very shallow in the other, señora, " answered the captain, deliberately, slowly winking one eye, a little habit which he hadcultivated as if to say to his words on their way out, "Slowly, slowly!"

"Half speed! Botheration, half speed!" protested Doña Victorinadisdainfully. "Why not full?"

"Because we should then be traveling over those ricefields, señora, "replied the imperturbable captain, pursing his lips to indicate thecultivated fields and indulging in two circumspect winks. 

This Doña Victorina was well known in the country for her caprices andextravagances. She was often seen in society, where she was toleratedwhenever she appeared in the company of her niece, Paulita Gomez, a very beautiful and wealthy orphan, to whom she was a kind ofguardian. At a rather advanced age she had married a poor wretchnamed Don Tiburcio de Espadaña, and at the time we now see her, carried upon herself fifteen years of wedded life, false frizzes, and ahalf-European costume--for her whole ambition had been to Europeanizeherself, with the result that from the ill-omened day of her weddingshe had gradually, thanks to her criminal attempts, succeeded inso transforming herself that at the present time Quatrefages andVirchow together could not have told where to classify her among theknown races. 

Her husband, who had borne all her impositions with the resignation ofa fakir through so many years of married life, at last on one lucklessday had had his bad half-hour and administered to her a superb whackwith his crutch. The surprise of Madam Job at such an inconsistencyof character made her insensible to the immediate effects, and onlyafter she had recovered from her astonishment and her husband hadfled did she take notice of the pain, then remaining in bed forseveral days, to the great delight of Paulita, who was very fondof joking and laughing at her aunt. As for her husband, horrifiedat the impiety of what appeared to him to be a terrific parricide, he took to flight, pursued by the matrimonial furies (two curs and aparrot), with all the speed his lameness permitted, climbed into thefirst carriage he encountered, jumped into the first banka he saw onthe river, and, a Philippine Ulysses, began to wander from town totown, from province to province, from island to island, pursued andpersecuted by his bespectacled Calypso, who bored every one that hadthe misfortune to travel in her company. She had received a report ofhis being in the province of La Laguna, concealed in one of the towns, so thither she was bound to seduce him back with her dyed frizzes. 

Her fellow travelers had taken measures of defense by keeping upamong themselves a lively conversation on any topic whatsoever. Atthat moment the windings and turnings of the river led them to talkabout straightening the channel and, as a matter of course, about theport works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar, was disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of anartilleryman. Both were shouting, gesticulating, waving their arms, spreading out their hands, stamping their feet, talking of levels, fish-corrals, the San Mateo River, [2] of cascos, of Indians, and soon, to the great satisfaction of their listeners and the undisguiseddisgust of an elderly Franciscan, remarkably thin and withered, and a handsome Dominican about whose lips flitted constantly ascornful smile. 

The thin Franciscan, understanding the Dominican's smile, decidedto intervene and stop the argument. He was undoubtedly respected, for with a wave of his hand he cut short the speech of both at themoment when the friar-artilleryman was talking about experience andthe journalist-friar about scientists. 

"Scientists, Ben-Zayb--do you know what they are?" asked the Franciscanin a hollow voice, scarcely stirring in his seat and making only afaint gesture with his skinny hand. "Here you have in the provincea bridge, constructed by a brother of ours, which was not completedbecause the scientists, relying on their theories, condemned it asweak and scarcely safe--yet look, it is the bridge that has withstoodall the floods and earthquakes!" [3]

"That's it, _puñales, _ that very thing, that was exactly what I wasgoing to say!" exclaimed the friar-artilleryman, thumping his fistsdown on the arms of his bamboo chair. "That's it, that bridge andthe scientists! That was just what I was going to mention, PadreSalvi--_puñales!_"

Ben-Zayb remained silent, half smiling, either out of respect orbecause he really did not know what to reply, and yet his was the onlythinking head in the Philippines! Padre Irene nodded his approval ashe rubbed his long nose. 

Padre Salvi, the thin and withered cleric, appeared to be satisfiedwith such submissiveness and went on in the midst of the silence:"But this does not mean that you may not be as near right as PadreCamorra" (the friar-artilleryman). "The trouble is in the lake--"

"The fact is there isn't a single decent lake in this country, "interrupted Doña Victorina, highly indignant, and getting ready fora return to the assault upon the citadel. 

The besieged gazed at one another in terror, but with the promptitudeof a general, the jeweler Simoun rushed in to the rescue. "The remedyis very simple, " he said in a strange accent, a mixture of Englishand South American. "And I really don't understand why it hasn'toccurred to somebody. "

All turned to give him careful attention, even the Dominican. Thejeweler was a tall, meager, nervous man, very dark, dressed in theEnglish fashion and wearing a pith helmet. Remarkable about him washis long white hair contrasted with a sparse black beard, indicating amestizo origin. To avoid the glare of the sun he wore constantly a pairof enormous blue goggles, which completely hid his eyes and a portionof his cheeks, thus giving him the aspect of a blind or weak-sightedperson. He was standing with his legs apart as if to maintain hisbalance, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his coat. 

"The remedy is very simple, " he repeated, "and wouldn't cost a cuarto. "

The attention now redoubled, for it was whispered in Manila that thisman controlled the Captain-General, and all saw the remedy in processof execution. Even Don Custodio himself turned to listen. 

"Dig a canal straight from the source to the mouth of the river, passing through Manila; that is, make a new river-channel and fillup the old Pasig. That would save land, shorten communication, andprevent the formation of sandbars. "

The project left all his hearers astounded, accustomed as they wereto palliative measures. 

"It's a Yankee plan!" observed Ben-Zayb, to ingratiate himself withSimoun, who had spent a long time in North America. 

All considered the plan wonderful and so indicated by the movementsof their heads. Only Don Custodio, the liberal Don Custodio, owing tohis independent position and his high offices, thought it his dutyto attack a project that did not emanate from himself--that was ausurpation! He coughed, stroked the ends of his mustache, and witha voice as important as though he were at a formal session of theAyuntamiento, said, "Excuse me, Señor Simoun, my respected friend, if I should say that I am not of your opinion. It would cost a greatdeal of money and might perhaps destroy some towns. "

"Then destroy them!" rejoined Simoun coldly. 

"And the money to pay the laborers?"

"Don't pay them! Use the prisoners and convicts!"

"But there aren't enough, Señor Simoun!"

"Then, if there aren't enough, let all the villagers, the old men, the youths, the boys, work. Instead of the fifteen days of obligatoryservice, let them work three, four, five months for the State, with theadditional obligation that each one provide his own food and tools. "

The startled Don Custodio turned his head to see if there was anyIndian within ear-shot, but fortunately those nearby were rustics, and the two helmsmen seemed to be very much occupied with the windingsof the river. 

"But, Señor Simoun--"

"Don't fool yourself, Don Custodio, " continued Simoun dryly, "only inthis way are great enterprises carried out with small means. Thuswere constructed the Pyramids, Lake Moeris, and the Colosseumin Rome. Entire provinces came in from the desert, bringing theirtubers to feed on. Old men, youths, and boys labored in transportingstones, hewing them, and carrying them on their shoulders underthe direction of the official lash, and afterwards, the survivorsreturned to their homes or perished in the sands of the desert. Thencame other provinces, then others, succeeding one another in the workduring years. Thus the task was finished, and now we admire them, we travel, we go to Egypt and to Home, we extol the Pharaohs and theAntonines. Don't fool yourself--the dead remain dead, and might onlyis considered right by posterity. "

"But, Señor Simoun, such measures might provoke uprisings, " objectedDon Custodio, rather uneasy over the turn the affair had taken. 

"Uprisings, ha, ha! Did the Egyptian people ever rebel, I wonder? Didthe Jewish prisoners rebel against the pious Titus? Man, I thoughtyou were better informed in history!"

Clearly Simoun was either very presumptuous or disregardedconventionalities! To say to Don Custodio's face that he did not knowhistory! It was enough to make any one lose his temper! So it seemed, for Don Custodio forgot himself and retorted, "But the fact is thatyou're not among Egyptians or Jews!"

"And these people have rebelled more than once, " added the Dominican, somewhat timidly. "In the times when they were forced to transportheavy timbers for the construction of ships, if it hadn't been forthe clerics--"

"Those times are far away, " answered Simoun, with a laugh even drierthan usual. "These islands will never again rebel, no matter how muchwork and taxes they have. Haven't you lauded to me, Padre Salvi, "he added, turning to the Franciscan, "the house and hospital at LosBaños, where his Excellency is at present?"

Padre Salvi gave a nod and looked up, evading the question. 

"Well, didn't you tell me that both buildings were constructedby forcing the people to work on them under the whip of alay-brother? Perhaps that wonderful bridge was built in the sameway. Now tell me, did these people rebel?"

"The fact is--they have rebelled before, " replied the Dominican, "and _ab actu ad posse valet illatio!_"

"No, no, nothing of the kind, " continued Simoun, starting down ahatchway to the cabin. "What's said, is said! And you, Padre Sibyla, don't talk either Latin or nonsense. What are you friars good for ifthe people can rebel?"

Taking no notice of the replies and protests, Simoun descended thesmall companionway that led below, repeating disdainfully, "Bosh, bosh!"

Padre Sibyla turned pale; this was the first time that he, Vice-Rectorof the University, had ever been credited with nonsense. Don Custodioturned green; at no meeting in which he had ever found himself hadhe encountered such an adversary. 

"An American mulatto!" he fumed. 

"A British Indian, " observed Ben-Zayb in a low tone. 

"An American, I tell you, and shouldn't I know?" retorted Don Custodioin ill-humor. "His Excellency has told me so. He's a jeweler whomthe latter knew in Havana, and, as I suspect, the one who got himadvancement by lending him money. So to repay him he has had him comehere to let him have a chance and increase his fortune by sellingdiamonds--imitations, who knows? And he so ungrateful, that, aftergetting money from the Indians, he wishes--huh!" The sentence wasconcluded by a significant wave of the hand. 

No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredithimself with his Excellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi, nor the offended Padre Sibyla hadany confidence in the discretion of the others. 

"The fact is that this man, being an American, thinks no doubtthat we are dealing with the redskins. To talk of these matters ona steamer! Compel, force the people! And he's the very person whoadvised the expedition to the Carolines and the campaign in Mindanao, which is going to bring us to disgraceful ruin. He's the one whohas offered to superintend the building of the cruiser, and I say, what does a jeweler, no matter how rich and learned he may be, knowabout naval construction?"

All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighborBen-Zayb, while he gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from timeto time with his looks consulted the others, who were nodding theirheads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged in a rather equivocalsmile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose. 

"I tell you, Ben-Zayb, " continued Don Custodio, slapping the journaliston the arm, "all the trouble comes from not consulting the old-timershere. A project in fine words, and especially with a big appropriation, with an appropriation in round numbers, dazzles, meets with acceptanceat once, for this!" Here, in further explanation, he rubbed the tipof his thumb against his middle and forefinger. [4]

"There's something in that, there's something in that, " Ben-Zaybthought it his duty to remark, since in his capacity of journalisthe had to be informed about everything. 

"Now look here, before the port works I presented a project, original, simple, useful, economical, and practicable, for clearing away the barin the lake, and it hasn't been accepted because there wasn't any ofthat in it. " He repeated the movement of his fingers, shrugged hisshoulders, and gazed at the others as though to say, "Have you everheard of such a misfortune?"

"May we know what it was?" asked several, drawing nearer and givinghim their attention. The projects of Don Custodio were as renownedas quacks' specifics. 

Don Custodio was on the point of refusing to explain it fromresentment at not having found any supporters in his diatribe againstSimoun. "When there's no danger, you want me to talk, eh? And whenthere is, you keep quiet!" he was going to say, but that would causethe loss of a good opportunity, and his project, now that it couldnot be carried out, might at least be known and admired. 

After blowing out two or three puffs of smoke, coughing, and spittingthrough a scupper, he slapped Ben-Zayb on the thigh and asked, "You've seen ducks?"

"I rather think so--we've hunted them on the lake, " answered thesurprised journalist. 

"No, I'm not talking about wild ducks, I'm talking of the domesticones, of those that are raised in Pateros and Pasig. Do you know whatthey feed on?"

Ben-Zayb, the only thinking head, did not know--he was not engagedin that business. 

"On snails, man, on snails!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "One doesn'thave to be an Indian to know that; it's sufficient to have eyes!"

"Exactly so, on snails!" repeated Don Custodio, flourishing hisforefinger. "And do you know where they get them?"

Again the thinking head did not know. 

"Well, if you had been in the country as many years as I have, youwould know that they fish them out of the bar itself, where theyabound, mixed with the sand. "

"Then your project?"

"Well, I'm coming to that. My idea was to compel all the towns roundabout, near the bar, to raise ducks, and you'll see how they, allby themselves, will deepen the channel by fishing for the snails--nomore and no less, no more and no less!"

Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at thestupefaction of his hearers--to none of them had occurred such anoriginal idea. 

"Will you allow me to write an article about that?" asked Ben-Zayb. "Inthis country there is so little thinking done--"

"But, Don Custodio, " exclaimed Doña Victorina with smirks and grimaces, "if everybody takes to raising ducks the _balot_ [5] eggs will becomeabundant. Ugh, how nasty! Rather, let the bar close up entirely!"

CHAPTER II

ON THE LOWER DECK

There, below, other scenes were being enacted. Seated on benchesor small wooden stools among valises, boxes, and baskets, a fewfeet from the engines, in the heat of the boilers, amid the humansmells and the pestilential odor of oil, were to be seen the greatmajority of the passengers. Some were silently gazing at the changingscenes along the banks, others were playing cards or conversing in themidst of the scraping of shovels, the roar of the engine, the hiss ofescaping steam, the swash of disturbed waters, and the shrieks of thewhistle. In one corner, heaped up like corpses, slept, or tried tosleep, a number of Chinese pedlers, seasick, pale, frothing throughhalf-opened lips, and bathed in their copious perspiration. Onlya few youths, students for the most part, easily recognizable fromtheir white garments and their confident bearing, made bold to moveabout from stern to bow, leaping over baskets and boxes, happy inthe prospect of the approaching vacation. Now they commented on themovements of the engines, endeavoring to recall forgotten notions ofphysics, now they surrounded the young schoolgirl or the red-lipped_buyera_ with her collar of _sampaguitas, _ whispering into their earswords that made them smile and cover their faces with their fans. 

Nevertheless, two of them, instead of engaging in these fleetinggallantries, stood in the bow talking with a man, advanced in years, but still vigorous and erect. Both these youths seemed to be wellknown and respected, to judge from the deference shown them by theirfellow passengers. The elder, who was dressed in complete black, wasthe medical student, Basilio, famous for his successful cures andextraordinary treatments, while the other, taller and more robust, although much younger, was Isagani, one of the poets, or at leastrimesters, who that year came from the Ateneo, [6] a curious character, ordinarily quite taciturn and uncommunicative. The man talking withthem was the rich Capitan Basilio, who was returning from a businesstrip to Manila. 

"Capitan Tiago is getting along about the same as usual, yes, sir, "said the student Basilio, shaking his head. "He won't submit to anytreatment. At the advice of _a certain person_ he is sending me to SanDiego under the pretext of looking after his property, but in realityso that he may be left to smoke his opium with complete liberty. "

When the student said _a certain person_, he really meant Padre Irene, a great friend and adviser of Capitan Tiago in his last days. 

"Opium is one of the plagues of modern times, " replied the capitanwith the disdain and indignation of a Roman senator. "The ancients knewabout it but never abused it. While the addiction to classical studieslasted--mark this well, young men--opium was used solely as a medicine;and besides, tell me who smoke it the most?--Chinamen, Chinamen whodon't understand a word of Latin! Ah, if Capitan Tiago had only devotedhimself to Cicero--" Here the most classical disgust painted itselfon his carefully-shaven Epicurean face. Isagani regarded him withattention: that gentleman was suffering from nostalgia for antiquity. 

"But to get back to this academy of Castilian, " Capitan Basiliocontinued, "I assure you, gentlemen, that you won't materialize it. "

"Yes, sir, from day to day we're expecting the permit, " repliedIsagani. "Padre Irene, whom you may have noticed above, and to whomwe've presented a team of bays, has promised it to us. He's on hisway now to confer with the General. "

"That doesn't matter. Padre Sibyla is opposed to it. "

"Let him oppose it! That's why he's here on the steamer, in orderto--at Los Baños before the General. "

And the student Basilio filled out his meaning by going through thepantomime of striking his fists together. 

"That's understood, " observed Capitan Basilio, smiling. "But eventhough you get the permit, where'll you get the funds?"

"We have them, sir. Each student has contributed a real. "

"But what about the professors?"

"We have them: half Filipinos and half Peninsulars. " [7]

"And the house?"

"Makaraig, the wealthy Makaraig, has offered one of his. "

Capitan Basilio had to give in; these young men had everythingarranged. 

"For the rest, " he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "it's notaltogether bad, it's not a bad idea, and now that you can't knowLatin at least you may know Castilian. Here you have another instance, namesake, of how we are going backwards. In our times we learned Latinbecause our books were in Latin; now you study Latin a little buthave no Latin books. On the other hand, your books are in Castilianand that language is not taught--_aetas parentum pejor avis tulitnos nequiores!_ as Horace said. " With this quotation he moved awaymajestically, like a Roman emperor. 

The youths smiled at each other. "These men of the past, " remarkedIsagani, "find obstacles for everything. Propose a thing to them andinstead of seeing its advantages they only fix their attention onthe difficulties. They want everything to come smooth and round asa billiard ball. "

"He's right at home with your uncle, " observed Basilio. 

"They talk of past times. But listen--speaking of uncles, what doesyours say about Paulita?"

Isagani blushed. "He preached me a sermon about the choosing ofa wife. I answered him that there wasn't in Manila another likeher--beautiful, well-bred, an orphan--"

"Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than aridiculous aunt, " added Basilio, at which both smiled. 

"In regard to the aunt, do you know that she has charged me to lookfor her husband?"

"Doña Victorina? And you've promised, in order to keep yoursweetheart. "

"Naturally! But the fact is that her husband is actually hidden--inmy uncle's house!"

Both burst into a laugh at this, while Isagani continued: "That'swhy my uncle, being a conscientious man, won't go on the upper deck, fearful that Doña Victorina will ask him about Don Tiburcio. Justimagine, when Doña Victorina learned that I was a steerage passengershe gazed at me with a disdain that--"

At that moment Simoun came down and, catching sight of the two youngmen, greeted Basilio in a patronizing tone: "Hello, Don Basilio, you're off for the vacation? Is the gentleman a townsman of yours?"

Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman, but that their homes were not very far apart. Isagani lived on theseashore of the opposite coast. Simoun examined him with such markedattention that he was annoyed, turned squarely around, and faced thejeweler with a provoking stare. 

"Well, what is the province like?" the latter asked, turning againto Basilio. 

"Why, aren't you familiar with it?"

"How the devil am I to know it when I've never set foot in it? I'vebeen told that it's very poor and doesn't buy jewels. "

"We don't buy jewels, because we don't need them, " rejoined Isaganidryly, piqued in his provincial pride. 

A smile played over Simoun's pallid lips. "Don't be offended, youngman, " he replied. "I had no bad intentions, but as I've been assuredthat nearly all the money is in the hands of the native priests, Isaid to myself: the friars are dying for curacies and the Franciscansare satisfied with the poorest, so when they give them up to thenative priests the truth must be that the king's profile is unknownthere. But enough of that! Come and have a beer with me and we'lldrink to the prosperity of your province. "

The youths thanked him, but declined the offer. 

"You do wrong, " Simoun said to them, visibly taken aback. "Beer is agood thing, and I heard Padre Camorra say this morning that the lackof energy noticeable in this country is due to the great amount ofwater the inhabitants drink. "

Isagani was almost as tall as the jeweler, and at this he drewhimself up. 

"Then tell Padre Camorra, " Basilio hastened to say, while he nudgedIsagani slyly, "tell him that if he would drink water instead of wineor beer, perhaps we might all be the gainers and he would not giverise to so much talk. "

"And tell him, also, " added Isagani, paying no attention to hisfriend's nudges, "that water is very mild and can be drunk, but thatit drowns out the wine and beer and puts out the fire, that heatedit becomes steam, and that ruffled it is the ocean, that it oncedestroyed mankind and made the earth tremble to its foundations!" [8]

Simoun raised his head. Although his looks could not be readthrough the blue goggles, on the rest of his face surprise mightbe seen. "Rather a good answer, " he said. "But I fear that he mightget facetious and ask me when the water will be converted into steamand when into an ocean. Padre Camorra is rather incredulous and isa great wag. "

"When the fire heats it, when the rivulets that are now scatteredthrough the steep valleys, forced by fatality, rush together in theabyss that men are digging, " replied Isagani. 

"No, Señor Simoun, " interposed Basilio, changing to a jesting tone, "rather keep in mind the verses of my friend Isagani himself:

 'Fire you, you say, and water we, Then as you wish, so let it be; But let us live in peace and right, Nor shall the fire e'er see us fight; So joined by wisdom's glowing flame, That without anger, hate, or blame, We form the steam, the fifth element, Progress and light, life and movement. '"

"Utopia, Utopia!" responded Simoun dryly. "The engine is about tomeet--in the meantime, I'll drink my beer. " So, without any word ofexcuse, he left the two friends. 

"But what's the matter with you today that you're soquarrelsome?" asked Basilio. 

"Nothing. I don't know why, but that man fills me with horror, fear almost. "

"I was nudging you with my elbow. Don't you know that he's calledthe Brown Cardinal?"

"The Brown Cardinal?"

"Or Black Eminence, as you wish. "

"I don't understand. "

"Richelieu had a Capuchin adviser who was called the Gray Eminence;well, that's what this man is to the General. "

"Really?"

"That's what I've heard from _a certain person, _--who always speaksill of him behind his back and flatters him to his face. "

"Does he also visit Capitan Tiago?"

"From the first day after his arrival, and I'm sure that _a certainperson_ looks upon him as a rival--in the inheritance. I believethat he's going to see the General about the question of instructionin Castilian. "

At that moment Isagani was called away by a servant to his uncle. 

On one of the benches at the stern, huddled in among the otherpassengers, sat a native priest gazing at the landscapes that weresuccessively unfolded to his view. His neighbors made room for him, themen on passing taking off their hats, and the gamblers not daring toset their table near where he was. He said little, but neither smokednor assumed arrogant airs, nor did he disdain to mingle with the othermen, returning the salutes with courtesy and affability as if he feltmuch honored and very grateful. Although advanced in years, with hairalmost completely gray, he appeared to be in vigorous health, and evenwhen seated held his body straight and his head erect, but withoutpride or arrogance. He differed from the ordinary native priests, few enough indeed, who at that period served merely as coadjutors oradministered some curacies temporarily, in a certain self-possessionand gravity, like one who was conscious of his personal dignityand the sacredness of his office. A superficial examination of hisappearance, if not his white hair, revealed at once that he belongedto another epoch, another generation, when the better young men werenot afraid to risk their dignity by becoming priests, when the nativeclergy looked any friar at all in the face, and when their class, not yet degraded and vilified, called for free men and not slaves, superior intelligences and not servile wills. In his sad and seriousfeatures was to be read the serenity of a soul fortified by study andmeditation, perhaps tried out by deep moral suffering. This priestwas Padre Florentino, Isagani's uncle, and his story is easily told. 

Scion of a wealthy and influential family of Manila, of agreeableappearance and cheerful disposition, suited to shine in the world, hehad never felt any call to the sacerdotal profession, but by reasonof some promises or vows, his mother, after not a few struggles andviolent disputes, compelled him to enter the seminary. She was a greatfriend of the Archbishop, had a will of iron, and was as inexorableas is every devout woman who believes that she is interpreting thewill of God. Vainly the young Florentine offered resistance, vainly hebegged, vainly he pleaded his love affairs, even provoking scandals:priest he had to become at twenty-five years of age, and priest hebecame. The Archbishop ordained him, his first mass was celebratedwith great pomp, three days were given over to feasting, and hismother died happy and content, leaving him all her fortune. 

But in that struggle Florentine received a wound from which henever recovered. Weeks before his first mass the woman he loved, in desperation, married a nobody--a blow the rudest he had everexperienced. He lost his moral energy, life became dull andinsupportable. If not his virtue and the respect for his office, that unfortunate love affair saved him from the depths into which theregular orders and secular clergymen both fall in the Philippines. Hedevoted himself to his parishioners as a duty, and by inclination tothe natural sciences. 

When the events of seventy-two occurred, [9] he feared that thelarge income his curacy yielded him would attract attention tohim, so, desiring peace above everything, he sought and secured hisrelease, living thereafter as a private individual on his patrimonialestate situated on the Pacific coast. He there adopted his nephew, Isagani, who was reported by the malicious to be his own son by hisold sweetheart when she became a widow, and by the more serious andbetter informed, the natural child of a cousin, a lady in Manila. 

The captain of the steamer caught sight of the old priest and insistedthat he go to the upper deck, saying, "If you don't do so, the friarswill think that you don't want to associate with them. "

Padre Florentino had no recourse but to accept, so he summoned hisnephew in order to let him know where he was going, and to charge himnot to come near the upper deck while he was there. "If the captainnotices you, he'll invite you also, and we should then be abusinghis kindness. "

"My uncle's way!" thought Isagani. "All so that I won't have anyreason for talking with Doña Victorina. "

CHAPTER III

LEGENDS

 Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten Dass ich so traurig bin!

When Padre Florentino joined the group above, the bad humor provoked bythe previous discussion had entirely disappeared. Perhaps their spiritshad been raised by the attractive houses of the town of Pasig, or theglasses of sherry they had drunk in preparation for the coming meal, orthe prospect of a good breakfast. Whatever the cause, the fact was thatthey were all laughing and joking, even including the lean Franciscan, although he made little noise and his smiles looked like death-grins. 

"Evil times, evil times!" said Padre Sibyla with a laugh. 

"Get out, don't say that, Vice-Rector!" responded the Canon Irene, giving the other's chair a shove. "In Hongkong you're doing a finebusiness, putting up every building that--ha, ha!"

"Tut, tut!" was the reply; "you don't see our expenses, and thetenants on our estates are beginning to complain--"

"Here, enough of complaints, _puñales, _ else I'll fall toweeping!" cried Padre Camorra gleefully. "We're not complaining, and we haven't either estates or banking-houses. You know that myIndians are beginning to haggle over the fees and to flash schedules onme! Just look how they cite schedules to me now, and none other thanthose of the Archbishop Basilio Sancho, [10] as if from his time upto now prices had not risen. Ha, ha, ha! Why should a baptism costless than a chicken? But I play the deaf man, collect what I can, and never complain. We're not avaricious, are we, Padre Salvi?"

At that moment Simoun's head appeared above the hatchway. 

"Well, where've you been keeping yourself?" Don Custodio called tohim, having forgotten all about their dispute. "You're missing theprettiest part of the trip!"

"Pshaw!" retorted Simoun, as he ascended, "I've seen so many riversand landscapes that I'm only interested in those that call up legends. "

"As for legends, the Pasig has a few, " observed the captain, who didnot relish any depreciation of the river where he navigated and earnedhis livelihood. "Here you have that of _Malapad-na-bato, _ a rock sacredbefore the coming of the Spaniards as the abode of spirits. Afterwards, when the superstition had been dissipated and the rock profaned, it wasconverted into a nest of tulisanes, since from its crest they easilycaptured the luckless bankas, which had to contend against both thecurrents and men. Later, in our time, in spite of human interference, there are still told stories about wrecked bankas, and if on roundingit I didn't steer with my six senses, I'd be smashed against itssides. Then you have another legend, that of Doña Jeronima's cave, which Padre Florentino can relate to you. "

"Everybody knows that, " remarked Padre Sibyla disdainfully. 

But neither Simoun, nor Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Camorraknew it, so they begged for the story, some in jest and others fromgenuine curiosity. The priest, adopting the tone of burlesque withwhich some had made their request, began like an old tutor relatinga story to children. 

"Once upon a time there was a student who had made a promise ofmarriage to a young woman in his country, but it seems that he failedto remember her. She waited for him faithfully year after year, heryouth passed, she grew into middle age, and then one day she heard areport that her old sweetheart was the Archbishop of Manila. Disguisingherself as a man, she came round the Cape and presented herself beforehis grace, demanding the fulfilment of his promise. What she askedwas of course impossible, so the Archbishop ordered the preparationof the cave that you may have noticed with its entrance covered anddecorated with a curtain of vines. There she lived and died and thereshe is buried. The legend states that Doña Jeronima was so fat thatshe had to turn sidewise to get into it. Her fame as an enchantresssprung from her custom of throwing into the river the silver disheswhich she used in the sumptuous banquets that were attended by crowdsof gentlemen. A net was spread under the water to hold the dishesand thus they were cleaned. It hasn't been twenty years since theriver washed the very entrance of the cave, but it has gradually beenreceding, just as the memory of her is dying out among the people. "

"A beautiful legend!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb. "I'm going to write anarticle about it. It's sentimental!"

Doña Victorina thought of dwelling in such a cave and was about tosay so, when Simoun took the floor instead. 

"But what's your opinion about that, Padre Salvi?" he asked theFranciscan, who seemed to be absorbed in thought. "Doesn't it seem toyou as though his Grace, instead of giving her a cave, ought to haveplaced her in a nunnery--in St. Clara's, for example? What do you say?"

There was a start of surprise on Padre Sibyla's part to notice thatPadre Salvi shuddered and looked askance at Simoun. 

"Because it's not a very gallant act, " continued Simoun quitenaturally, "to give a rocky cliff as a home to one with whosehopes we have trifled. It's hardly religious to expose her thus totemptation, in a cave on the banks of a river--it smacks of nymphs anddryads. It would have been more gallant, more pious, more romantic, more in keeping with the customs of this country, to shut her up inSt. Clara's, like a new Eloise, in order to visit and console herfrom time to time. "

"I neither can nor should pass judgment upon the conduct ofarchbishops, " replied the Franciscan sourly. 

"But you, who are the ecclesiastical governor, acting in the placeof our Archbishop, what would you do if such a case should arise?"

Padre Salvi shrugged his shoulders and calmly responded, "It's notworth while thinking about what can't happen. But speaking of legends, don't overlook the most beautiful, since it is the truest: that ofthe miracle of St. Nicholas, the ruins of whose church you may havenoticed. I'm going to relate it to Señor Simoun, as he probably hasn'theard it. It seems that formerly the river, as well as the lake, was infested with caymans, so huge and voracious that they attackedbankas and upset them with a slap of the tail. Our chronicles relatethat one day an infidel Chinaman, who up to that time had refused to beconverted, was passing in front of the church, when suddenly the devilpresented himself to him in the form of a cayman and upset the banka, in order to devour him and carry him off to hell. Inspired by God, the Chinaman at that moment called upon St. Nicholas and instantlythe cayman was changed into a stone. The old people say that intheir time the monster could easily be recognized in the pieces ofstone that were left, and, for my part, I can assure you that I haveclearly made out the head, to judge from which the monster must havebeen enormously large. "

"Marvelous, a marvelous legend!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb. "It's good for anarticle--the description of the monster, the terror of the Chinaman, the waters of the river, the bamboo brakes. Also, it'll do for a studyof comparative religions; because, look you, an infidel Chinaman ingreat distress invoked exactly the saint that he must know only byhearsay and in whom he did not believe. Here there's no room for theproverb that 'a known evil is preferable to an unknown good. ' If Ishould find myself in China and get caught in such a difficulty, Iwould invoke the obscurest saint in the calendar before Confucius orBuddha. Whether this is due to the manifest superiority of Catholicismor to the inconsequential and illogical inconsistency in the brainsof the yellow race, a profound study of anthropology alone will beable to elucidate. "

Ben-Zayb had adopted the tone of a lecturer and was describingcircles in the air with his forefinger, priding himself on hisimagination, which from the most insignificant facts could deduceso many applications and inferences. But noticing that Simoun waspreoccupied and thinking that he was pondering over what he, Ben-Zayb, had just said, he inquired what the jeweler was meditating about. 

"About two very important questions, " answered Simoun; "two questionsthat you might add to your article. First, what may have become ofthe devil on seeing himself suddenly confined within a stone? Did heescape? Did he stay there? Was he crushed? Second, if the petrifiedanimals that I have seen in various European museums may not havebeen the victims of some antediluvian saint?"

The tone in which the jeweler spoke was so serious, while he restedhis forehead on the tip of his forefinger in an attitude of deepmeditation, that Padre Camorra responded very gravely, "Who knows, who knows?"

"Since we're busy with legends and are now entering the lake, "remarked Padre Sibyla, "the captain must know many--"

At that moment the steamer crossed the bar and the panorama spread outbefore their eyes was so truly magnificent that all were impressed. Infront extended the beautiful lake bordered by green shores and bluemountains, like a huge mirror, framed in emeralds and sapphires, reflecting the sky in its glass. On the right were spread out thelow shores, forming bays with graceful curves, and dim there in thedistance the crags of Sungay, while in the background rose Makiling, imposing and majestic, crowned with fleecy clouds. On the left layTalim Island with its curious sweep of hills. A fresh breeze rippledover the wide plain of water. 

"By the way, captain, " said Ben-Zayb, turning around, "do you knowin what part of the lake a certain Guevara, Navarra, or Ibarra, was killed?"

The group looked toward the captain, with the exception of Simoun, whohad turned away his head as though to look for something on the shore. 

"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Doña Victorina. "Where, captain? Did he leaveany tracks in the water?"

The good captain winked several times, an indication that he wasannoyed, but reading the request in the eyes of all, took a few stepstoward the bow and scanned the shore. 

"Look over there, " he said in a scarcely audible voice, after makingsure that no strangers were near. "According to the officer whoconducted the pursuit, Ibarra, upon finding himself surrounded, jumpedout of his banka there near the Kinabutasan [11] and, swimming underwater, covered all that distance of more than two miles, saluted bybullets every time that he raised his head to breathe. Over yonder iswhere they lost track of him, and a little farther on near the shorethey discovered something like the color of blood. And now I thinkof it, it's just thirteen years, day for day, since this happened. "

"So that his corpse--" began Ben-Zayb. 

"Went to join his father's, " replied Padre Sibyla. "Wasn't he alsoanother filibuster, Padre Salvi?"

"That's what might be called cheap funerals, Padre Camorra, eh?" remarked Ben-Zayb. 

"I've always said that those who won't pay for expensive funeralsare filibusters, " rejoined the person addressed, with a merry laugh. 

"But what's the matter with you, Señor Simoun?" inquired Ben-Zayb, seeing that the jeweler was motionless and thoughtful. "Are youseasick--an old traveler like you? On such a drop of water as this!"

"I want to tell you, " broke in the captain, who had come to hold allthose places in great affection, "that you can't call this a dropof water. It's larger than any lake in Switzerland and all those inSpain put together. I've seen old sailors who got seasick here. "

CHAPTER IV

CABESANG TALES

Those who have read the first part of this story will perhaps rememberan old wood-cutter who lived in the depths of the forest. [12] TandangSelo is still alive, and though his hair has turned completely white, he yet preserves his good health. He no longer hunts or cuts firewood, for his fortunes have improved and he works only at making brooms. 

His son Tales (abbreviation of Telesforo) had worked at first on shareson the lands of a capitalist, but later, having become the owner oftwo carabaos and several hundred pesos, determined to work on his ownaccount, aided by his father, his wife, and his three children. Sothey cut down and cleared away some thick woods which were situatedon the borders of the town and which they believed belonged to noone. During the labors of cleaning and cultivating the new land, the whole family fell ill with malaria and the mother died, alongwith the eldest daughter, Lucia, in the flower of her age. This, which was the natural consequence of breaking up new soil infestedwith various kinds of bacteria, they attributed to the anger of thewoodland spirit, so they were resigned and went on with their labor, believing him pacified. 

But when they began to harvest their first crop a religiouscorporation, which owned land in the neighboring town, laid claim tothe fields, alleging that they fell within their boundaries, and toprove it they at once started to set up their marks. However, theadministrator of the religious order left to them, for humanity'ssake, the usufruct of the land on condition that they pay a smallsum annually--a mere bagatelle, twenty or thirty pesos. Tales, aspeaceful a man as could be found, was as much opposed to lawsuitsas any one and more submissive to the friars than most people; so, in order not to smash a _palyok_ against a _kawali_ (as he said, for to him the friars were iron pots and he a clay jar), he had theweakness to yield to their claim, remembering that he did not knowSpanish and had no money to pay lawyers. 

Besides, Tandang Selo said to him, "Patience! You would spend morein one year of litigation than in ten years of paying what the whitepadres demand. And perhaps they'll pay you back in masses! Pretendthat those thirty pesos had been lost in gambling or had fallen intothe water and been swallowed by a cayman. "

The harvest was abundant and sold well, so Tales planned to build awooden house in the barrio of Sagpang, of the town of Tiani, whichadjoined San Diego. 

Another year passed, bringing another good crop, and for this reasonthe friars raised the rent to fifty pesos, which Tales paid in ordernot to quarrel and because he expected to sell his sugar at a goodprice. 

"Patience! Pretend that the cayman has grown some, " old Selo consoledhim. 

That year he at last saw his dream realized: to live in the barrio ofSagpang in a wooden house. The father and grandfather then thought ofproviding some education for the two children, especially the daughterJuliana, or Juli, as they called her, for she gave promise of beingaccomplished and beautiful. A boy who was a friend of the family, Basilio, was studying in Manila, and he was of as lowly origin as they. 

But this dream seemed destined not to be realized. The first care thecommunity took when they saw the family prospering was to appoint ascabeza de barangay its most industrious member, which left only Tano, the son, who was only fourteen years old. The father was thereforecalled _Cabesang_ Tales and had to order a sack coat, buy a felt hat, and prepare to spend his money. In order to avoid any quarrel withthe curate or the government, he settled from his own pocket theshortages in the tax-lists, paying for those who had died or movedaway, and he lost considerable time in making the collections and onhis trips to the capital. 

"Patience! Pretend that the cayman's relatives have joined him, "advised Tandang Selo, smiling placidly. 

"Next year you'll put on a long skirt and go to Manila to study likethe young ladies of the town, " Cabesang Tales told his daughter everytime he heard her talking of Basilio's progress. 

But that next year did not come, and in its stead there was anotherincrease in the rent. Cabesang Tales became serious and scratchedhis head. The clay jar was giving up all its rice to the iron pot. 

When the rent had risen to two hundred pesos, Tales was not contentwith scratching his head and sighing; he murmured and protested. Thefriar-administrator then told him that if he could not pay, some oneelse would be assigned to cultivate that land--many who desired ithad offered themselves. 

He thought at first that the friar was joking, but the friar wastalking seriously, and indicated a servant of his to take possessionof the land. Poor Tales turned pale, he felt a buzzing in his ears, hesaw in the red mist that rose before his eyes his wife and daughter, pallid, emaciated, dying, victims of the intermittent fevers--thenhe saw the thick forest converted into productive fields, he saw thestream of sweat watering its furrows, he saw himself plowing underthe hot sun, bruising his feet against the stones and roots, whilethis friar had been driving about in his carriage with the wretch whowas to get the land following like a slave behind his master. No, athousand times, no! First let the fields sink into the depths of theearth and bury them all! Who was this intruder that he should haveany right to his land? Had he brought from his own country a singlehandful of that soil? Had he crooked a single one of his fingers topull up the roots that ran through it?

Exasperated by the threats of the friar, who tried to uphold hisauthority at any cost in the presence of the other tenants, CabesangTales rebelled and refused to pay a single cuarto, having ever beforehimself that red mist, saying that he would give up his fields to thefirst man who could irrigate it with blood drawn from his own veins. 

Old Selo, on looking at his son's face, did not dare to mention thecayman, but tried to calm him by talking of clay jars, reminding himthat the winner in a lawsuit was left without a shirt to his back. 

"We shall all be turned to clay, father, and without shirts we wereborn, " was the reply. 

So he resolutely refused to pay or to give up a single span of hisland unless the friars should first prove the legality of their claimby exhibiting a title-deed of some kind. As they had none, a lawsuitfollowed, and Cabesang Tales entered into it, confiding that some atleast, if not all, were lovers of justice and respecters of the law. 

"I serve and have been serving the King with my money and my services, "he said to those who remonstrated with him. "I'm asking for justiceand he is obliged to give it to me. "

Drawn on by fatality, and as if he had put into play in the lawsuitthe whole future of himself and his children, he went on spending hissavings to pay lawyers, notaries, and solicitors, not to mention theofficials and clerks who exploited his ignorance and his needs. Hemoved to and fro between the village and the capital, passed hisdays without eating and his nights without sleeping, while his talkwas always about briefs, exhibits, and appeals. There was then seena struggle such as was never before carried on under the skies of thePhilippines: that of a poor Indian, ignorant and friendless, confidingin the justness and righteousness of his cause, fighting against apowerful corporation before which Justice bowed her head, while thejudges let fall the scales and surrendered the sword. He fought astenaciously as the ant which bites when it knows that it is goingto be crushed, as does the fly which looks into space only througha pane of glass. Yet the clay jar defying the iron pot and smashingitself into a thousand pieces bad in it something impressive--it hadthe sublimeness of desperation!

On the days when his journeys left him free he patrolled his fieldsarmed with a shotgun, saying that the tulisanes were hovering aroundand he had need of defending himself in order not to fall into theirhands and thus lose his lawsuit. As if to improve his marksmanship, he shot at birds and fruits, even the butterflies, with such accurateaim that the friar-administrator did not dare to go to Sagpang withoutan escort of civil-guards, while the friar's hireling, who gazed fromafar at the threatening figure of Tales wandering over the fieldslike a sentinel upon the walls, was terror stricken and refused totake the property away from him. 

But the local judges and those at the capital, warned by the experienceof one of their number who had been summarily dismissed, dared notgive him the decision, fearing their own dismissal. Yet they were notreally bad men, those judges, they were upright and conscientious, good citizens, excellent fathers, dutiful sons--and they wereable to appreciate poor Tales' situation better than Tales himselfcould. Many of them were versed in the scientific and historicalbasis of property, they knew that the friars by their own statutescould not own property, but they also knew that to come from faracross the sea with an appointment secured with great difficulty, to undertake the duties of the position with the best intentions, and now to lose it because an Indian fancied that justice had tobe done on earth as in heaven--that surely was an idea! They hadtheir families and greater needs surely than that Indian: one hada mother to provide for, and what duty is more sacred than that ofcaring for a mother? Another had sisters, all of marriageable age;that other there had many little children who expected their dailybread and who, like fledglings in a nest, would surely die of hungerthe day he was out of a job; even the very least of them had there, far away, a wife who would be in distress if the monthly remittancefailed. All these moral and conscientious judges tried everything intheir power in the way of counsel, advising Cabesang Tales to paythe rent demanded. But Tales, like all simple souls, once he hadseen what was just, went straight toward it. He demanded proofs, documents, papers, title-deeds, but the friars had none of these, resting their case on his concessions in the past. 

Cabesang Tales' constant reply was: "If every day I give alms to abeggar to escape annoyance, who will oblige me to continue my giftsif he abuses my generosity?"

From this stand no one could draw him, nor were there any threats thatcould intimidate him. In vain Governor M---- made a trip expresslyto talk to him and frighten him. His reply to it all was: "You maydo what you like, Mr. Governor, I'm ignorant and powerless. But I'vecultivated those fields, my wife and daughter died while helping meclear them, and I won't give them up to any one but him who can domore with them than I've done. Let him first irrigate them with hisblood and bury in them his wife and daughter!"

The upshot of this obstinacy was that the honorable judges gave thedecision to the friars, and everybody laughed at him, saying thatlawsuits are not won by justice. But Cabesang Tales appealed, loadedhis shotgun, and patrolled his fields with deliberation. 

During this period his life seemed to be a wild dream. His son, Tano, a youth as tall as his father and as good as his sister, wasconscripted, but he let the boy go rather than purchase a substitute. 

"I have to pay the lawyers, " he told his weeping daughter. "If I winthe case I'll find a way to get him back, and if I lose it I won'thave any need for sons. "

So the son went away and nothing more was heard of him except that hishair had been cropped and that he slept under a cart. Six months laterit was rumored that he had been seen embarking for the Carolines;another report was that he had been seen in the uniform of theCivil Guard. 

"Tano in the Civil Guard! _'Susmariosep_!" exclaimed several, claspingtheir hands. "Tano, who was so good and so honest! _Requimternam!_"

The grandfather went many days without speaking to the father, Julifell sick, but Cabesang Tales did not shed a single tear, although fortwo days he never left the house, as if he feared the looks of reproachfrom the whole village or that he would be called the executioner ofhis son. But on the third day he again sallied forth with his shotgun. 

Murderous intentions were attributed to him, and there werewell-meaning persons who whispered about that he had been heard tothreaten that he would bury the friar-administrator in the furrows ofhis fields, whereat the friar was frightened at him in earnest. As aresult of this, there came a decree from the Captain-General forbiddingthe use of firearms and ordering that they be taken up. Cabesang Taleshad to hand over his shotgun but he continued his rounds armed witha long bolo. 

"What are you going to do with that bolo when the tulisanes havefirearms?" old Selo asked him. 

"I must watch my crops, " was the answer. "Every stalk of cane growingthere is one of my wife's bones. "

The bolo was taken up on the pretext that it was too long. He thentook his father's old ax and with it on his shoulder continued hissullen rounds. 

Every time he left the house Tandang Selo and Juli trembled for hislife. The latter would get up from her loom, go to the window, pray, make vows to the saints, and recite novenas. The grandfather was attimes unable to finish the handle of a broom and talked of returningto the forest--life in that house was unbearable. 

At last their fears were realized. As the fields were some distancefrom the village, Cabesang Tales, in spite of his ax, fell into thehands of tulisanes who had revolvers and rifles. They told him thatsince he had money to pay judges and lawyers he must have some alsofor the outcasts and the hunted. They therefore demanded a ransom offive hundred pesos through the medium of a rustic, with the warningthat if anything happened to their messenger, the captive would payfor it with his life. Two days of grace were allowed. 

This news threw the poor family into the wildest terror, which wasaugmented when they learned that the Civil Guard was going out inpursuit of the bandits. In case of an encounter, the first victimwould be the captive--this they all knew. The old man was paralyzed, while the pale and frightened daughter tried often to talk but couldnot. Still, another thought more terrible, an idea more cruel, rousedthem from their stupor. The rustic sent by the tulisanes said thatthe band would probably have to move on, and if they were slow insending the ransom the two days would elapse and Cabesang Tales wouldhave his throat cut. 

This drove those two beings to madness, weak and powerless as theywere. Tandang Selo got up, sat down, went outside, came back again, knowing not where to go, where to seek aid. Juli appealed to herimages, counted and recounted her money, but her two hundred pesosdid not increase or multiply. Soon she dressed herself, gatheredtogether all her jewels, and asked the advice of her grandfather, if she should go to see the gobernadorcillo, the judge, the notary, the lieutenant of the Civil Guard. The old man said yes to everything, or when she said no, he too said no. At length came the neighbors, their relatives and friends, some poorer than others, in theirsimplicity magnifying the fears. The most active of all was SisterBali, a great _panguinguera, _ who had been to Manila to practisereligious exercises in the nunnery of the Sodality. 

Juli was willing to sell all her jewels, except a locket set withdiamonds and emeralds which Basilio had given her, for this lockethad a history: a nun, the daughter of Capitan Tiago, had given it to aleper, who, in return for professional treatment, had made a present ofit to Basilio. So she could not sell it without first consulting him. 

Quickly the shell-combs and earrings were sold, as well as Juli'srosary, to their richest neighbor, and thus fifty pesos were added, but two hundred and fifty were still lacking. The locket might bepawned, but Juli shook her head. A neighbor suggested that the housebe sold and Tandang Selo approved the idea, satisfied to return tothe forest and cut firewood as of old, but Sister Bali observed thatthis could not be done because the owner was not present. 

"The judge's wife once sold me her _tapis_ for a peso, but herhusband said that the sale did not hold because it hadn't receivedhis approval. _Abá!_ He took back the _tapis_ and she hasn't returnedthe peso yet, but I don't pay her when she wins at _panguingui, abá!_In that way I've collected twelve cuartos, and for that alone I'mgoing to play with her. I can't bear to have people fail to pay whatthey owe me, _abá!_"

Another neighbor was going to ask Sister Bali why then did notshe settle a little account with her, but the quick _panguinguera_suspected this and added at once: "Do you know, Juli, what you cando? Borrow two hundred and fifty pesos on the house, payable whenthe lawsuit is won. "

This seemed to be the best proposition, so they decided to act uponit that same day. Sister Bali offered to accompany her, and togetherthey visited the houses of all the rich folks in Tiani, but no onewould accept the proposal. The case, they said, was already lost, and to show favors to an enemy of the friars was to expose themselvesto their vengeance. At last a pious woman took pity on the girl andlent the money on condition that Juli should remain with her as aservant until the debt was paid. Juli would not have so very muchto do: sew, pray, accompany her to mass, and fast for her now andthen. The girl accepted with tears in her eyes, received the money, and promised to enter her service on the following day, Christmas. 

When the grandfather heard of that sale he fell to weeping like achild. What, that granddaughter whom he had not allowed to walk in thesun lest her skin should be burned, Juli, she of the delicate fingersand rosy feet! What, that girl, the prettiest in the village andperhaps in the whole town, before whose window many gallants had vainlypassed the night playing and singing! What, his only granddaughter, the sole joy of his fading eyes, she whom he had dreamed of seeingdressed in a long skirt, talking Spanish, and holding herself erectwaving a painted fan like the daughters of the wealthy--she to becomea servant, to be scolded and reprimanded, to ruin her fingers, tosleep anywhere, to rise in any manner whatsoever!

So the old grandfather wept and talked of hanging or starving himselfto death. "If you go, " he declared, "I'm going back to the forestand will never set foot in the town. "

Juli soothed him by saying that it was necessary for her father toreturn, that the suit would be won, and they could then ransom herfrom her servitude. 

The night was a sad one. Neither of the two could taste a bite andthe old man refused to lie down, passing the whole night seated ina corner, silent and motionless. Juli on her part tried to sleep, but for a long time could not close her eyes. Somewhat relieved abouther father's fate, she now thought of herself and fell to weeping, but stifled her sobs so that the old man might not hear them. Thenext day she would be a servant, and it was the very day Basilio wasaccustomed to come from Manila with presents for her. Henceforwardshe would have to give up that love; Basilio, who was going to be adoctor, couldn't marry a pauper. In fancy she saw him going to thechurch in company with the prettiest and richest girl in the town, both well-dressed, happy and smiling, while she, Juli, followed hermistress, carrying novenas, buyos, and the cuspidor. Here the girlfelt a lump rise in her throat, a sinking at her heart, and beggedthe Virgin to let her die first. 

But--said her conscience--he will at least know that I preferred topawn myself rather than the locket he gave me. 

This thought consoled her a little and brought on empty dreams. Whoknows but that a miracle might happen? She might find the two hundredand fifty pesos under the image of the Virgin--she had read ofmany similar miracles. The sun might not rise nor morning come, andmeanwhile the suit would be won. Her father might return, or Basilioput in his appearance, she might find a bag of gold in the garden, the tulisanes would send the bag of gold, the curate, Padre Camorra, who was always teasing her, would come with the tulisanes. So herideas became more and more confused, until at length, worn out byfatigue and sorrow, she went to sleep with dreams of her childhoodin the depths of the forest: she was bathing in the torrent alongwith her two brothers, there were little fishes of all colors thatlet themselves be caught like fools, and she became impatient becauseshe found no pleasure in catchnig such foolish little fishes! Basiliowas under the water, but Basilio for some reason had the face of herbrother Tano. Her new mistress was watching them from the bank. 

CHAPTER V

A COCHERO'S CHRISTMAS EVE

Basilio reached San Diego just as the Christmas Eve procession waspassing through the streets. He had been delayed on the road forseveral hours because the cochero, having forgotten his cedula, washeld up by the Civil Guard, had his memory jogged by a few blows froma rifle-butt, and afterwards was taken before the commandant. Now thecarromata was again detained to let the procession pass, while theabused cochero took off his hat reverently and recited a paternosterto the first image that came along, which seemed to be that of agreat saint. It was the figure of an old man with an exceptionallylong beard, seated at the edge of a grave under a tree filled withall kinds of stuffed birds. A _kalan_ with a clay jar, a mortar, and a _kalikut_ for mashing buyo were his only utensils, as if toindicate that he lived on the border of the tomb and was doing hiscooking there. This was the Methuselah of the religious iconographyof the Philippines; his colleague and perhaps contemporary is calledin Europe Santa Claus, and is still more smiling and agreeable. 

"In the time of the saints, " thought the cochero, "surely there were nocivil-guards, because one can't live long on blows from rifle-butts. "

Behind the great old man came the three Magian Kings on ponies thatwere capering about, especially that of the negro Melchior, whichseemed to be about to trample its companions. 

"No, there couldn't have been any civil-guards, " decided thecochero, secretly envying those fortunate times, "because if therehad been, that negro who is cutting up such capers beside those twoSpaniards"--Gaspar and Bathazar--"would have gone to jail. "

Then, observing that the negro wore a crown and was a king, like theother two, the Spaniards, his thoughts naturally turned to the kingof the Indians, and he sighed. "Do you know, sir, " he asked Basiliorespectfully, "if his right foot is loose yet?"

Basilio had him repeat the question. "Whose right foot?"

"The King's!" whispered the cochero mysteriously. 

"What King's?"

"Our King's, the King of the Indians. "

Basilio smiled and shrugged his shoulders, while the cochero againsighed. The Indians in the country places preserve the legend thattheir king, imprisoned and chained in the cave of San Mateo, willcome some day to free them. Every hundredth year he breaks one of hischains, so that he now has his hands and his left foot loose--onlythe right foot remains bound. This king causes the earthquakes when hestruggles or stirs himself, and he is so strong that in shaking handswith him it is necessary to extend to him a bone, which he crushesin his grasp. For some unexplainable reason the Indians call him KingBernardo, perhaps by confusing him with Bernardo del Carpio. [13]

"When he gets his right foot loose, " muttered the cochero, stiflinganother sigh, "I'll give him my horses, and offer him my services evento death, for he'll free us from the Civil Guard. " With a melancholygaze he watched the Three Kings move on. 

The boys came behind in two files, sad and serious as though they werethere under compulsion. They lighted their way, some with torches, others with tapers, and others with paper lanterns on bamboo poles, while they recited the rosary at the top of their voices, as thoughquarreling with somebody. Afterwards came St. Joseph on a modest float, with a look of sadness and resignation on his face, carrying his stalkof lilies, as he moved along between two civil-guards as though he werea prisoner. This enabled the cochero to understand the expression onthe saint's face, but whether the sight of the guards troubled him orhe had no great respect for a saint who would travel in such company, he did not recite a single requiem. 

Behind St. Joseph came the girls bearing lights, their heads coveredwith handkerchiefs knotted under their chins, also reciting the rosary, but with less wrath than the boys. In their midst were to be seenseveral lads dragging along little rabbits made of Japanese paper, lighted by red candles, with their short paper tails erect. The ladsbrought those toys into the procession to enliven the birth of theMessiah. The little animals, fat and round as eggs, seemed to be sopleased that at times they would take a leap, lose their balance, fall, and catch fire. The owner would then hasten to extinguish such burningenthusiasm, puffing and blowing until he finally beat out the fire, and then, seeing his toy destroyed, would fall to weeping. The cocheroobserved with sadness that the race of little paper animals disappearedeach year, as if they had been attacked by the pest like the livinganimals. He, the abused Sinong, remembered his two magnificent horses, which, at the advice of the curate, he had caused to be blessed tosave them from plague, spending therefor ten pesos--for neitherthe government nor the curates have found any better remedy forthe epizootic--and they had died after all. Yet he consoled himselfby remembering also that after the shower of holy water, the Latinphrases of the padre, and the ceremonies, the horses had become sovain and self-important that they would not even allow him, Sinong, a good Christian, to put them in harness, and he had not dared to whipthem, because a tertiary sister had said that they were _sanctified_. 

The procession was closed by the Virgin dressed as the Divine Shepherd, with a pilgrim's hat of wide brim and long plumes to indicate thejourney to Jerusalem. That the birth might be made more explicable, thecurate had ordered her figure to be stuffed with rags and cotton underher skirt, so that no one could be in any doubt as to her condition. Itwas a very beautiful image, with the same sad expression of all theimages that the Filipinos make, and a mien somewhat ashamed, doubtlessat the way in which the curate had arranged her. In front came severalsingers and behind, some musicians with the usual civil-guards. Thecurate, as was to be expected after what he had done, was not in hisplace, for that year he was greatly displeased at having to use allhis diplomacy and shrewdness to convince the townspeople that theyshould pay thirty pesos for each Christmas mass instead of the usualtwenty. "You're turning filibusters!" he had said to them. 

The cochero must have been greatly preoccupied with the sights of theprocession, for when it had passed and Basilio ordered him to go on, hedid not notice that the lamp on his carromata had gone out. Neither didBasilio notice it, his attention being devoted to gazing at the houses, which were illuminated inside and out with little paper lanternsof fantastic shapes and colors, stars surrounded by hoops with longstreamers which produced a pleasant murmur when shaken by the wind, and fishes of movable heads and tails, having a glass of oil inside, suspended from the eaves of the windows in the delightful fashion ofa happy and homelike fiesta. But he also noticed that the lights wereflickering, that the stars were being eclipsed, that this year hadfewer ornaments and hangings than the former, which in turn had hadeven fewer than the year preceding it. There was scarcely any musicin the streets, while the agreeable noises of the kitchen were not tobe heard in all the houses, which the youth ascribed to the fact thatfor some time things had been going badly, the sugar did not bring agood price, the rice crops had failed, over half the live stock haddied, but the taxes rose and increased for some inexplicable reason, while the abuses of the Civil Guard became more frequent to kill offthe happiness of the people in the towns. 

He was just pondering over this when an energetic"Halt!" resounded. They were passing in front of the barracks and oneof the guards had noticed the extinguished lamp of the carromata, which could not go on without it. A hail of insults fell about thepoor cochero, who vainly excused himself with the length of theprocession. He would be arrested for violating the ordinances andafterwards advertised in the newspapers, so the peaceful and prudentBasilio left the carromata and went his way on foot, carrying hisvalise. This was San Diego, his native town, where he had not asingle relative. 

The only, house wherein there seemed to be any mirth was CapitanBasilio's. Hens and chickens cackled their death chant to theaccompaniment of dry and repeated strokes, as of meat pounded on achopping-block, and the sizzling of grease in the frying-pans. A feastwas going on in the house, and even into the street there passed acertain draught of air, saturated with the succulent odors of stewsand confections. In the entresol Basilio saw Sinang, as small aswhen our readers knew her before, [14] although a little rounder andplumper since her marriage. Then to his great surprise he made out, further in at the back of the room, chatting with Capitan Basilio, the curate, and the alferez of the Civil Guard, no less than thejeweler Simoun, as ever with his blue goggles and his nonchalant air. 

"It's understood, Señor Simoun, " Capitan Basilio was saying, "thatwe'll go to Tiani to see your jewels. "

"I would also go, " remarked the alferez, "because I need a watch-chain, but I'm so busy--if Capitan Basilio would undertake--"

Capitan Basilio would do so with the greatest pleasure, and ashe wished to propitiate the soldier in order that he might not bemolested in the persons of his laborers, he refused to accept themoney which the alferez was trying to get out of his pocket. 

"It's my Christmas gift!"

"I can't allow you, Capitan, I can't permit it!"

"All right! We'll settle up afterwards, " replied Capitan Basilio witha lordly gesture. 

Also, the curate wanted a pair of lady's earrings and requested thecapitan to buy them for him. "I want them first class. Later we'llfix up the account. "

"Don't worry about that, Padre, " said the good man, who wished to beat peace with the Church also. An unfavorable report on the curate'spart could do him great damage and cause him double the expense, for those earrings were a forced present. Simoun in the meantime waspraising his jewels. 

"That fellow is fierce!" mused the student. "He does businesseverywhere. And if I can believe _a certain person, _ he buys from somegentlemen for a half of their value the same jewels that he himselfhas sold for presents. Everybody in this country prospers but us!"

He made his way to his house, or rather Capitan Tiago's, now occupiedby a trustworthy man who had held him in great esteem since theday when he had seen him perform a surgical operation with the samecoolness that he would cut up a chicken. This man was now waiting togive him the news. Two of the laborers were prisoners, one was to bedeported, and a number of carabaos had died. 

"The same old story, " exclaimed Basilio, in a bad humor. "You alwaysreceive me with the same complaints. " The youth was not overbearing, but as he was at times scolded by Capitan Tiago, he liked in his turnto chide those under his orders. 

The old man cast about for something new. "One of our tenants has died, the old fellow who took care of the woods, and the curate refused tobury him as a pauper, saying that his master is a rich man. "

"What did he die of?"

"Of old age. "

"Get out! To die of old age! It must at least have been somedisease. " Basilio in his zeal for making autopsies wanted diseases. 

"Haven't you anything new to tell me? You take away my appetiterelating the same old things. Do you know anything of Sagpang?"

The old man then told him about the kidnapping of CabesangTales. Basilio became thoughtful and said nothing more--his appetitehad completely left him. 

CHAPTER VI

BASILIO

When the bells began their chimes for the midnight mass and those whopreferred a good sleep to fiestas and ceremonies arose grumbling atthe noise and movement, Basilio cautiously left the house, took twoor three turns through the streets to see that he was not watchedor followed, and then made his way by unfrequented paths to the roadthat led to the ancient wood of the Ibarras, which had been acquiredby Capitan Tiago when their property was confiscated and sold. AsChristmas fell under the waning moon that year, the place was wrappedin darkness. The chimes had ceased, and only the tolling soundedthrough the darkness of the night amid the murmur of the breeze-stirredbranches and the measured roar of the waves on the neighboring lake, like the deep respiration of nature sunk in profound sleep. 

Awed by the time and place, the youth moved along with his head down, as if endeavoring to see through the darkness. But from time to timehe raised it to gaze at the stars through the open spaces between thetreetops and went forward parting the bushes or tearing away the lianasthat obstructed his path. At times he retraced his steps, his footwould get caught among the plants, he stumbled over a projecting rootor a fallen log. At the end of a half-hour he reached a small brook onthe opposite side of which arose a hillock, a black and shapeless massthat in the darkness took on the proportions of a mountain. Basiliocrossed the brook on the stones that showed black against the shiningsurface of the water, ascended the hill, and made his way to a smallspace enclosed by old and crumbling walls. He approached the baletetree that rose in the center, huge, mysterious, venerable, formed ofroots that extended up and down among the confusedly-interlaced trunks. 

Pausing before a heap of stones he took off his hat and seemed to bepraying. There his mother was buried, and every time he came to thetown his first visit was to that neglected and unknown grave. Since hemust visit Cabesang Tales' family the next day, he had taken advantageof the night to perform this duty. Seated on a stone, he seemed to fallinto deep thought. His past rose before him like a long black film, rosy at first, then shadowy with spots of blood, then black, black, gray, and then light, ever lighter. The end could not be seen, hiddenas it was by a cloud through which shone lights and the hues of dawn. 

Thirteen years before to the day, almost to the hour, his motherhad died there in the deepest distress, on a glorious night when themoon shone brightly and the Christians of the world were engaged inrejoicing. Wounded and limping, he had reached there in pursuit ofher--she mad and terrified, fleeing from her son as from a ghost. Thereshe had died, and there had come a stranger who had commanded him tobuild a funeral pyre. He had obeyed mechanically and when he returnedhe found a second stranger by the side of the other's corpse. Whata night and what a morning those were! The stranger helped him raisethe pyre, whereon they burned the corpse of the first, dug the gravein which they buried his mother, and then after giving him some piecesof money told him to leave the place. It was the first time that he hadseen that man--tall, with blood-shot eyes, pale lips, and a sharp nose. 

Entirely alone in the world, without parents or brothers and sisters, he left the town whose authorities inspired in him such great fear andwent to Manila to work in some rich house and study at the same time, as many do. His journey was an Odyssey of sleeplessness and startlingsurprises, in which hunger counted for little, for he ate the fruitsin the woods, whither he retreated whenever he made out from afar theuniform of the Civil Guard, a sight that recalled the origin of allhis misfortunes. Once in Manila, ragged and sick, he went from doorto door offering his services. A boy from the provinces who knew nota single word of Spanish, and sickly besides! Discouraged, hungry, andmiserable, he wandered about the streets, attracting attention by thewretchedness of his clothing. How often was he tempted to throw himselfunder the feet of the horses that flashed by, drawing carriages shiningwith silver and varnish, thus to end his misery at once! Fortunately, he saw Capitan Tiago, accompanied by Aunt Isabel. He had known themsince the days in San Diego, and in his joy believed that in them hesaw almost fellow-townsfolk. He followed the carriage until he lostsight of it, and then made inquiries for the house. As it was thevery day that Maria Clara entered the nunnery and Capitan Tiago wasaccordingly depressed, he was admitted as a servant, without pay, but instead with leave to study, if he so wished, in San Juan deLetran. [15]

Dirty, poorly dressed, with only a pair of clogs for footwear, atthe end of several months' stay in Manila, he entered the first yearof Latin. On seeing his clothes, his classmates drew away from him, and the professor, a handsome Dominican, never asked him a question, but frowned every time he looked at him. In the eight months thatthe class continued, the only words that passed between them werehis name read from the roll and the daily _adsum_ with which thestudent responded. With what bitterness he left the class eachday, and, guessing the reason for the treatment accorded him, whattears sprang into his eyes and what complaints were stifled in hisheart! How he had wept and sobbed over the grave of his mother, relating to her his hidden sorrows, humiliations, and affronts, when at the approach of Christmas Capitan Tiago had taken him backto San Diego! Yet he memorized the lessons without omitting a comma, although he understood scarcely any part of them. But at length hebecame resigned, noticing that among the three or four hundred in hisclass only about forty merited the honor of being questioned, becausethey attracted the professor's attention by their appearance, someprank, comicality, or other cause. The greater part of the studentscongratulated themselves that they thus escaped the work of thinkingand understanding the subject. "One goes to college, not to learnand study, but to gain credit for the course, so if the book can bememorized, what more can be asked--the year is thus gained. " [16]

Basilio passed the examinations by answering the solitary questionasked him, like a machine, without stopping or breathing, and in theamusement of the examiners won the passing certificate. His ninecompanions--they were examined in batches of ten in order to savetime--did not have such good luck, but were condemned to repeat theyear of brutalization. 

In the second year the game-cock that he tended won a large sum and hereceived from Capitan Tiago a big tip, which he immediately investedin the purchase of shoes and a felt hat. With these and the clothesgiven him by his employer, which he made over to fit his person, his appearance became more decent, but did not get beyond that. Insuch a large class a great deal was needed to attract the professor'sattention, and the student who in the first year did not make himselfknown by some special quality, or did not capture the good-will of theprofessors, could with difficulty make himself known in the rest of hisschool-days. But Basilio kept on, for perseverance was his chief trait. 

His fortune seemed to change somewhat when he entered the thirdyear. His professor happened to be a very jolly fellow, fond ofjokes and of making the students laugh, complacent enough in thathe almost always had his favorites recite the lessons--in fact, he was satisfied with anything. At this time Basilio now wore shoesand a clean and well-ironed camisa. As his professor noticed thathe laughed very little at the jokes and that his large eyes seemedto be asking something like an eternal question, he took him fora fool, and one day decided to make him conspicuous by callingon him for the lesson. Basilio recited it from beginning to end, without hesitating over a single letter, so the professor called hima parrot and told a story to make the class laugh. Then to increasethe hilarity and justify the epithet he asked several questions, at the same time winking to his favorites, as if to say to them, "You'll see how we're going to amuse ourselves. "

Basilio now understood Spanish and answered the questions with theplain intention of making no one laugh. This disgusted everybody, the expected absurdity did not materialize, no one could laugh, andthe good friar never pardoned him for having defrauded the hopes ofthe class and disappointed his own prophecies. But who would expectanything worth while to come from a head so badly combed and placed onan Indian poorly shod, classified until recently among the arborealanimals? As in other centers of learning, where the teachers arehonestly desirous that the students should learn, such discoveriesusually delight the instructors, so in a college managed by menconvinced that for the most part knowledge is an evil, at least forthe students, the episode of Basilio produced a bad impression andhe was not questioned again during the year. Why should he be, whenhe made no one laugh?

Quite discouraged and thinking of abandoning his studies, he passedto the fourth year of Latin. Why study at all, why not sleep likethe others and trust to luck?

One of the two professors was very popular, beloved by all, passingfor a sage, a great poet, and a man of advanced ideas. One day whenhe accompanied the collegians on their walk, he had a dispute withsome cadets, which resulted in a skirmish and a challenge. No doubtrecalling his brilliant youth, the professor preached a crusade andpromised good marks to all who during the promenade on the followingSunday would take part in the fray. The week was a lively one--therewere occasional encounters in which canes and sabers were crossed, and in one of these Basilio distinguished himself. Borne in triumphby the students and presented to the professor, he thus became knownto him and came to be his favorite. Partly for this reason and partlyfrom his diligence, that year he received the highest marks, medalsincluded, in view of which Capitan Tiago, who, since his daughterhad become a nun, exhibited some aversion to the friars, in a fit ofgood humor induced him to transfer to the Ateneo Municipal, the fameof which was then in its apogee. 

Here a new world opened before his eyes--a system of instructionthat he had never dreamed of. Except for a few superfluities and somechildish things, he was filled with admiration for the methods thereused and with gratitude for the zeal of the instructors. His eyes attimes filled with tears when he thought of the four previous yearsduring which, from lack of means, he had been unable to study at thatcenter. He had to make extraordinary efforts to get himself to thelevel of those who had had a good preparatory course, and it might besaid that in that one year he learned the whole five of the secondarycurricula. He received his bachelor's degree, to the great satisfactionof his instructors, who in the examinations showed themselves to beproud of him before the Dominican examiners sent there to inspect theschool. One of these, as if to dampen such great enthusiasm a little, asked him where he had studied the first years of Latin. 

"In San Juan de Letran, Padre, " answered Basilio. 

"Aha! Of course! He's not bad, --in Latin, " the Dominican then remarkedwith a slight smile. 

From choice and temperament he selected the course in medicine. CapitanTiago preferred the law, in order that he might have a lawyer free, but knowledge of the laws is not sufficient to secure clientagein the Philippines--it is necessary to win the cases, and for thisfriendships are required, influence in certain spheres, a good deal ofastuteness. Capitan Tiago finally gave in, remembering that medicalstudents get on intimate terms with corpses, and for some time hehad been seeking a poison to put on the gaffs of his game-cocks, the best he had been able to secure thus far being the blood of aChinaman who had died of syphilis. 

With equal diligence, or more if possible, the young man continuedthis course, and after the third year began to render medical serviceswith such great success that he was not only preparing a brilliantfuture for himself but also earning enough to dress well and savesome money. This was the last year of the course and in two months hewould be a physician; he would come back to the town, he would marryJuliana, and they would be happy. The granting of his licentiateshipwas not only assured, but he expected it to be the crowning act ofhis school-days, for he had been designated to deliver the valedictoryat the graduation, and already he saw himself in the rostrum, beforethe whole faculty, the object of public attention. All those heads, leaders of Manila science, half-hidden in their colored capes; allthe women who came there out of curiosity and who years before hadgazed at him, if not with disdain, at least with indifference; allthose men whose carriages had once been about to crush him down in themud like a dog: they would listen attentively, and he was going tosay something to them that would not be trivial, something that hadnever before resounded in that place, he was going to forget himselfin order to aid the poor students of the future--and he would makehis entrance on his work in the world with that speech. 

CHAPTER VII

SIMOUN

Over these matters Basilio was pondering as he visited his mother'sgrave. He was about to start back to the town when he thought he sawa light flickering among the trees and heard the snapping of twigs, the sound of feet, and rustling of leaves. The light disappearedbut the noises became more distinct, coming directly toward where hewas. Basilio was not naturally superstitious, especially after havingcarved up so many corpses and watched beside so many death-beds, but the old legends about that ghostly spot, the hour, the darkness, the melancholy sighing of the wind, and certain tales heard in hischildhood, asserted their influence over his mind and made his heartbeat violently. 

The figure stopped on the other side of the balete, but the youthcould see it through an open space between two roots that had grownin the course of time to the proportions of tree-trunks. It producedfrom under its coat a lantern with a powerful reflecting lens, whichit placed on the ground, thereby lighting up a pair of riding-boots, the rest of the figure remaining concealed in the darkness. The figureseemed to search its pockets and then bent over to fix a shovel-bladeon the end of a stout cane. To his great surprise Basilio thought hecould make out some of the features of the jeweler Simoun, who indeedit was. 

The jeweler dug in the ground and from time to time the lanternilluminated his face, on which were not now the blue goggles that socompletely disguised him. Basilio shuddered: that was the same strangerwho thirteen years before had dug his mother's grave there, only nowhe had aged somewhat, his hair had turned white, he wore a beard anda mustache, but yet his look was the same, the bitter expression, the same cloud on his brow, the same muscular arms, though somewhatthinner now, the same violent energy. Old impressions were stirredin the boy: he seemed to feel the heat of the fire, the hunger, theweariness of that time, the smell of freshly turned earth. Yet hisdiscovery terrified him--that jeweler Simoun, who passed for a BritishIndian, a Portuguese, an American, a mulatto, the Brown Cardinal, hisBlack Eminence, the evil genius of the Captain-General as many calledhim, was no other than the mysterious stranger whose appearance anddisappearance coincided with the death of the heir to that land! Butof the two strangers who had appeared, which was Ibarra, the livingor the dead?

This question, which he had often asked himself whenever Ibarra's deathwas mentioned, again came into his mind in the presence of the humanenigma he now saw before him. The dead man had had two wounds, whichmust have been made by firearms, as he knew from what he had sincestudied, and which would be the result of the chase on the lake. Thenthe dead man must have been Ibarra, who had come to die at the tombof his forefathers, his desire to be cremated being explained by hisresidence in Europe, where cremation is practised. Then who was theother, the living, this jeweler Simoun, at that time with such anappearance of poverty and wretchedness, but who had now returnedloaded with gold and a friend of the authorities? There was themystery, and the student, with his characteristic cold-bloodedness, determined to clear it up at the first opportunity. 

Simoun dug away for some time, but Basilio noticed that his old vigorhad declined--he panted and had to rest every few moments. Fearingthat he might be discovered, the boy made a sudden resolution. Risingfrom his seat and issuing from his hiding-place, he asked in the mostmatter-of-fact tone, "Can I help you, sir?"

Simoun straightened up with the spring of a tiger attacked at hisprey, thrust his hand in his coat pocket, and stared at the studentwith a pale and lowering gaze. 

"Thirteen years ago you rendered me a great service, sir, " went onBasilio unmoved, "in this very place, by burying my mother, and Ishould consider myself happy if I could serve you now. "

Without taking his eyes off the youth Simoun drew a revolver fromhis pocket and the click of a hammer being cocked was heard. "Forwhom do you take me?" he asked, retreating a few paces. 

"For a person who is sacred to me, " replied Basilio with some emotion, for he thought his last moment had come. "For a person whom all, exceptme, believe to be dead, and whose misfortunes I have always lamented. "

An impressive silence followed these words, a silence that to theyouth seemed to suggest eternity. But Simoun, after some hesitation, approached him and placing a hand on his shoulder said in a movingtone: "Basilio, you possess a secret that can ruin me and now you havejust surprised me in another, which puts me completely in your hands, the divulging of which would upset all my plans. For my own securityand for the good of the cause in which I labor, I ought to seal yourlips forever, for what is the life of one man compared to the end Iseek? The occasion is fitting; no one knows that I have come here;I am armed; you are defenceless; your death would be attributed tothe outlaws, if not to more supernatural causes--yet I'll let youlive and trust that I shall not regret it. You have toiled, you havestruggled with energetic perseverance, and like myself, you have yourscores to settle with society. Your brother was murdered, your motherdriven to insanity, and society has prosecuted neither the assassinnor the executioner. You and I are the dregs of justice and insteadof destroying we ought to aid each other. "

Simoun paused with a repressed sigh, and then slowly resumed, whilehis gaze wandered about: "Yes, I am he who came here thirteen yearsago, sick and wretched, to pay the last tribute to a great and noblesoul that was willing to die for me. The victim of a vicious system, Ihave wandered over the world, working night and day to amass a fortuneand carry out my plan. Now I have returned to destroy that system, to precipitate its downfall, to hurl it into the abyss toward whichit is senselessly rushing, even though I may have to shed oceansof tears and blood. It has condemned itself, it stands condemned, and I don't want to die before I have seen it in fragments at thefoot of the precipice!"

Simoun extended both his arms toward the earth, as if with that gesturehe would like to hold there the broken remains. His voice took on asinister, even lugubrious tone, which made the student shudder. 

"Called by the vices of the rulers, I have returned to these islands, and under the cloak of a merchant have visited the towns. My goldhas opened a way for me and wheresoever I have beheld greed in themost execrable forms, sometimes hypocritical, sometimes shameless, sometimes cruel, fatten on the dead organism, like a vulture on acorpse, I have asked myself--why was there not, festering in itsvitals, the corruption, the ptomaine, the poison of the tombs, tokill the foul bird? The corpse was letting itself be consumed, thevulture was gorging itself with meat, and because it was not possiblefor me to give it life so that it might turn against its destroyer, and because the corruption developed slowly, I have stimulated greed, I have abetted it. The cases of injustice and the abuses multipliedthemselves; I have instigated crime and acts of cruelty, so that thepeople might become accustomed to the idea of death. I have stirred uptrouble so that to escape from it some remedy might be found; I haveplaced obstacles in the way of trade so that the country, impoverishedand reduced to misery, might no longer be afraid of anything; I haveexcited desires to plunder the treasury, and as this has not beenenough to bring about a popular uprising, I have wounded the peoplein their most sensitive fiber; I have made the vulture itself insultthe very corpse that it feeds upon and hasten the corruption. 

"Now, when I was about to get the supreme rottenness, the supremefilth, the mixture of such foul products brewing poison, when thegreed was beginning to irritate, in its folly hastening to seizewhatever came to hand, like an old woman caught in a conflagration, here you come with your cries of Hispanism, with chants of confidencein the government, in what cannot come to pass, here you have a bodypalpitating with heat and life, young, pure, vigorous, throbbing withblood, with enthusiasm, suddenly come forth to offer itself again asfresh food!

"Ah, youth is ever inexperienced and dreamy, always running afterthe butterflies and flowers! You have united, so that by your effortsyou may bind your fatherland to Spain with garlands of roses when inreality you are forging upon it chains harder than the diamond! Youask for equal rights, the Hispanization of your customs, and you don'tsee that what you are begging for is suicide, the destruction of yournationality, the annihilation of your fatherland, the consecration oftyranny! What will you be in the future? A people without character, a nation without liberty--everything you have will be borrowed, evenyour very defects! You beg for Hispanization, and do not pale withshame when they deny it you! And even if they should grant it to you, what then--what have you gained? At best, a country of pronunciamentos, a land of civil wars, a republic of the greedy and the malcontents, like some of the republics of South America! To what are you tendingnow, with your instruction in Castilian, a pretension that would beridiculous were it not for its deplorable consequences! You wish toadd one more language to the forty odd that are spoken in the islands, so that you may understand one another less and less. "

"On the contrary, " replied Basilio, "if the knowledge of Castilianmay bind us to the government, in exchange it may also unite theislands among themselves. "

"A gross error!" rejoined Simoun. "You are letting yourselves bedeceived by big words and never go to the bottom of things to examinethe results in their final analysis. Spanish will never be the generallanguage of the country, the people will never talk it, because theconceptions of their brains and the feelings of their hearts cannotbe expressed in that language--each people has its own tongue, as ithas its own way of thinking! What are you going to do with Castilian, the few of you who will speak it? Kill off your own originality, subordinate your thoughts to other brains, and instead of freeingyourselves, make yourselves slaves indeed! Nine-tenths of those ofyou who pretend to be enlightened are renegades to your country! Heamong you who talks that language neglects his own in such a way thathe neither writes nor understands it, and how many have I not seenwho pretended not to know a single word of it! But fortunately, youhave an imbecile government! While Russia enslaves Poland by forcingthe Russian language upon it, while Germany prohibits French in theconquered provinces, your government strives to preserve yours, andyou in return, a remarkable people under an incredible government, youare trying to despoil yourselves of your own nationality! One and allyou forget that while a people preserves its language, it preservesthe marks of its liberty, as a man preserves his independence whilehe holds to his own way of thinking. Language is the thought of thepeoples. Luckily, your independence is assured; human passions arelooking out for that!"

Simoun paused and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The waning moonwas rising and sent its faint light down through the branches of thetrees, and with his white locks and severe features, illuminated frombelow by the lantern, the jeweler appeared to be the fateful spiritof the wood planning some evil. 

Basilio was silent before such bitter reproaches and listened withbowed head, while Simoun resumed: "I saw this movement started and havepassed whole nights of anguish, because I understood that among thoseyouths there were exceptional minds and hearts, sacrificing themselvesfor what they thought to be a good cause, when in reality they wereworking against their own country. How many times have I wishedto speak to you young men, to reveal myself and undeceive you! Butin view of the reputation I enjoy, my words would have been wronglyinterpreted and would perhaps have had a counter effect. How many timeshave I not longed to approach your Makaraig, your Isagani! SometimesI thought of their death, I wished to destroy them--"

Simoun checked himself. 

"Here's why I let you live, Basilio, and by such imprudence I exposemyself to the risk of being some day betrayed by you. But you knowwho I am, you know how much I must have suffered--then believe inme! You are not of the common crowd, which sees in the jeweler Simounthe trader who incites the authorities to commit abuses in order thatthe abused may buy jewels. I am the Judge who wishes to castigatethis system by making use of its own defects, to make war on it byflattering it. I need your help, your influence among the youth, tocombat these senseless desires for Hispanization, for assimilation, for equal rights. By that road you will become only a poor copy, and the people should look higher. It is madness to attempt toinfluence the thoughts of the rulers--they have their plan outlined, the bandage covers their eyes, and besides losing time uselessly, youare deceiving the people with vain hopes and are helping to bend theirnecks before the tyrant. What you should do is to take advantage oftheir prejudices to serve your needs. Are they unwilling that yoube assimilated with the Spanish people? Good enough! Distinguishyourselves then by revealing yourselves in your own character, tryto lay the foundations of the Philippine fatherland! Do they deny youhope? Good! Don't depend on them, depend upon yourselves and work! Dothey deny you representation in their Cortes? So much the better! Evenshould you succeed in sending representatives of your own choice, what are you going to accomplish there except to be overwhelmed amongso many voices, and sanction with your presence the abuses and wrongsthat are afterwards perpetrated? The fewer rights they allow you, the more reason you will have later to throw off the yoke, and returnevil for evil. If they are unwilling to teach you their language, cultivate your own, extend it, preserve to the people their own wayof thinking, and instead of aspiring to be a province, aspire to bea nation! Instead of subordinate thoughts, think independently, tothe end that neither by right, nor custom, nor language, the Spaniardcan be considered the master here, nor even be looked upon as a partof the country, but ever as an invader, a foreigner, and sooner orlater you will have your liberty! Here's why I let you live!"

Basilio breathed freely, as though a great weight had been lifted fromhim, and after a brief pause, replied: "Sir, the honor you do me inconfiding your plans to me is too great for me not to be frank withyou, and tell you that what you ask of me is beyond my power. I amno politician, and if I have signed the petition for instruction inCastilian it has been because I saw in it an advantage to our studiesand nothing more. My destiny is different; my aspiration reducesitself to alleviating the physical sufferings of my fellow men. "

The jeweler smiled. "What are physical sufferings compared to moraltortures? What is the death of a man in the presence of the death of asociety? Some day you will perhaps be a great physician, if they letyou go your way in peace, but greater yet will be he who can injecta new idea into this anemic people! You, what are you doing for theland that gave you existence, that supports your life, that affordsyou knowledge? Don't you realize that that is a useless life which isnot consecrated to a great idea? It is a stone wasted in the fieldswithout becoming a part of any edifice. "

"No, no, sir!" replied Basilio modestly, "I'm not folding my arms, I'm working like all the rest to raise up from the ruins of the pasta people whose units will be bound together--that each one may feelin himself the conscience and the life of the whole. But howeverenthusiastic our generation may be, we understand that in this greatsocial fabric there must be a division of labor. I have chosen mytask and will devote myself to science. "

"Science is not the end of man, " declared Simoun. 

"The most civilized nations are tending toward it. "

"Yes, but only as a means of seeking their welfare. "

"Science is more eternal, it's more human, it's moreuniversal!" exclaimed the youth in a transport of enthusiasm. "Within afew centuries, when humanity has become redeemed and enlightened, whenthere are no races, when all peoples are free, when there are neithertyrants nor slaves, colonies nor mother countries, when justice rulesand man is a citizen of the world, the pursuit of science alone willremain, the word patriotism will be equivalent to fanaticism, and hewho prides himself on patriotic ideas will doubtless be isolated asa dangerous disease, as a menace to the social order. "

Simoun smiled sadly. "Yes, yes, " he said with a shake of his head, "yet to reach that condition it is necessary that there be notyrannical and no enslaved peoples, it is necessary that man go aboutfreely, that he know how to respect the rights of others in their ownindividuality, and for this there is yet much blood to be shed, thestruggle forces itself forward. To overcome the ancient fanaticismthat bound consciences it was necessary that many should perish inthe holocausts, so that the social conscience in horror declaredthe individual conscience free. It is also necessary that all answerthe question which with each day the fatherland asks them, with itsfettered hands extended! Patriotism can only be a crime in a tyrannicalpeople, because then it is rapine under a beautiful name, but howeverperfect humanity may become, patriotism will always be a virtue amongoppressed peoples, because it will at all times mean love of justice, of liberty, of personal dignity--nothing of chimerical dreams, ofeffeminate idyls! The greatness of a man is not in living before histime, a thing almost impossible, but in understanding its desires, in responding to its needs, and in guiding it on its forward way. Thegeniuses that are commonly believed to have existed before their time, only appear so because those who judge them see from a great distance, or take as representative of the age the line of stragglers!"

Simoun fell silent. Seeing that he could awake no enthusiasm inthat unresponsive mind, he turned to another subject and asked witha change of tone: "And what are you doing for the memory of yourmother and your brother? Is it enough that you come here every year, to weep like a woman over a grave?" And he smiled sarcastically. 

The shot hit the mark. Basilio changed color and advanced a step. 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked angrily. 

"Without means, without social position, how may I bring theirmurderers to justice? I would merely be another victim, shattered likea piece of glass hurled against a rock. Ah, you do ill to recall thisto me, since it is wantonly reopening a wound!"

"But what if I should offer you my aid?"

Basilio shook his head and remained pensive. "All the tardyvindications of justice, all the revenge in the world, will not restorea single hair of my mother's head, or recall a smile to my brother'slips. Let them rest in peace--what should I gain now by avenging them?"

"Prevent others from suffering what you have suffered, that inthe future there be no brothers murdered or mothers driven tomadness. Resignation is not always a virtue; it is a crime when itencourages tyrants: there are no despots where there are no slaves! Manis in his own nature so wicked that he always abuses complaisance. Ithought as you do, and you know what my fate was. Those who causedyour misfortunes are watching you day and night, they suspect thatyou are only biding your time, they take your eagerness to learn, your love of study, your very complaisance, for burning desires forrevenge. The day they can get rid of you they will do with you asthey did with me, and they will not let you grow to manhood, becausethey fear and hate you!"

"Hate me? Still hate me after the wrong they have done me?" askedthe youth in surprise. 

Simoun burst into a laugh. "'It is natural for man to hate thosewhom he has wronged, ' said Tacitus, confirming the _quos laeserunt etoderunt_ of Seneca. When you wish to gauge the evil or the good thatone people has done to another, you have only to observe whetherit hates or loves. Thus is explained the reason why many who haveenriched themselves here in the high offices they have filled, ontheir return to the Peninsula relieve themselves by slanders andinsults against those who have been their victims. _Proprium humaniingenii est odisse quern laeseris!"_

"But if the world is large, if one leaves them to the peacefulenjoyment of power, if I ask only to be allowed to work, to live--"

"And to rear meek-natured sons to send them afterwards to submit tothe yoke, " continued Simoun, cruelly mimicking Basilio's tone. "A finefuture you prepare for them, and they have to thank you for a lifeof humiliation and suffering! Good enough, young man! When a bodyis inert, it is useless to galvanize it. Twenty years of continuousslavery, of systematic humiliation, of constant prostration, finallycreate in the mind a twist that cannot be straightened by the laborof a day. Good and evil instincts are inherited and transmitted fromfather to son. Then let your idylic ideas live, your dreams of aslave who asks only for a bandage to wrap the chain so that it mayrattle less and not ulcerate his skin! You hope for a little homeand some ease, a wife and a handful of rice--here is your ideal manof the Philippines! Well, if they give it to you, consider yourselffortunate. "

Basilio, accustomed to obey and bear with the caprices and humorsof Capitan Tiago. Was now dominated by Simoun, who appeared to himterrible and sinister on a background bathed in tears and blood. Hetried to explain himself by saying that he did not consider himselffit to mix in politics, that he had no political opinions becausehe had never studied the question, but that he was always ready tolend his services the day they might be needed, that for the momenthe saw only one need, the enlightenment of the people. 

Simoun stopped him with a gesture, and, as the dawn was coming, said to him: "Young man, I am not warning you to keep my secret, because I know that discretion is one of your good qualities, andeven though you might wish to sell me, the jeweler Simoun, the friendof the authorities and of the religious corporations, will alwaysbe given more credit than the student Basilio, already suspectedof filibusterism, and, being a native, so much the more marked andwatched, and because in the profession you are entering upon youwill encounter powerful rivals. After all, even though you have notcorresponded to my hopes, the day on which you change your mind, look me up at my house in the Escolta, and I'll be glad to help you. "

Basilio thanked him briefly and went away. 

"Have I really made a mistake?" mused Simoun, when he found himselfalone. "Is it that he doubts me and meditates his plan of revengeso secretly that he fears to tell it even in the solitude of thenight? Or can it be that the years of servitude have extinguishedin his heart every human sentiment and there remain only the animaldesires to live and reproduce? In that case the type is deformedand will have to be cast over again. Then the hecatomb is preparing:let the unfit perish and only the strongest survive!"

Then he added sadly, as if apostrophizing some one: "Have patience, youwho left me a name and a home, have patience! I have lost all--country, future, prosperity, your very tomb, but have patience! And thou, noble spirit, great soul, generous heart, who didst live with only onethought and didst sacrifice thy life without asking the gratitude orapplause of any one, have patience, have patience! The methods that Iuse may perhaps not be thine, but they are the most direct. The dayis coming, and when it brightens I myself will come to announce itto you who are now indifferent. Have patience!"

CHAPTER VIII

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

When Juli opened her sorrowing eyes, she saw that the house was stilldark, but the cocks were crowing. Her first thought was that perhapsthe Virgin had performed the miracle and the sun was not going to rise, in spite of the invocations of the cocks. She rose, crossed herself, recited her morning prayers with great devotion, and with as littlenoise as possible went out on the _batalan. _

There was no miracle--the sun was rising and promised a magnificentmorning, the breeze was delightfully cool, the stars were palingin the east, and the cocks were crowing as if to see who could crowbest and loudest. That had been too much to ask--it were much easierto request the Virgin to send the two hundred and fifty pesos. Whatwould it cost the Mother of the Lord to give them? But underneath theimage she found only the letter of her father asking for the ransom offive hundred pesos. There was nothing to do but go, so, seeing thather grandfather was not stirring, she thought him asleep and beganto prepare breakfast. Strange, she was calm, she even had a desireto laugh! What had she had last night to afflict her so? She was notgoing very far, she could come every second day to visit the house, her grandfather could see her, and as for Basilio, he had known forsome time the bad turn her father's affairs had taken, since he hadoften said to her, "When I'm a physician and we are married, yourfather won't need his fields. "

"What a fool I was to cry so much, " she said to herself as she packedher _tampipi. _ Her fingers struck against the locket and she pressedit to her lips, but immediately wiped them from fear of contagion, forthat locket set with diamonds and emeralds had come from a leper. Ah, then, if she should catch that disease she could not get married. 

As it became lighter, she could see her grandfather seated in acorner, following all her movements with his eyes, so she caught up her_tampipi_ of clothes and approached him smilingly to kiss his hand. Theold man blessed her silently, while she tried to appear merry. "Whenfather comes back, tell him that I have at last gone to college--mymistress talks Spanish. It's the cheapest college I could find. "

Seeing the old man's eyes fill with tears, she placed the _tampipi_on her head and hastily went downstairs, her slippers slapping merrilyon the wooden steps. But when she turned her head to look again atthe house, the house wherein had faded her childhood dreams and hermaiden illusions, when she saw it sad, lonely, deserted, with thewindows half closed, vacant and dark like a dead man's eyes, whenshe heard the low rustling of the bamboos, and saw them nodding inthe fresh morning breeze as though bidding her farewell, then hervivacity disappeared; she stopped, her eyes filled with tears, andletting herself fall in a sitting posture on a log by the waysideshe broke out into disconsolate tears. 

Juli had been gone several hours and the sun was quite high overheadwhen Tandang Selo gazed from the window at the people in their festivalgarments going to the town to attend the high mass. Nearly all ledby the hand or carried in their arms a little boy or girl decked outas if for a fiesta. 

Christmas day in the Philippines is, according to the elders, a fiestafor the children, who are perhaps not of the same opinion and who, it may be supposed, have for it an instinctive dread. They are rousedearly, washed, dressed, and decked out with everything new, dear, and precious that they possess--high silk shoes, big hats, woolen orvelvet suits, without overlooking four or five scapularies, whichcontain texts from St. John, and thus burdened they are carried tothe high mass, where for almost an hour they are subjected to the heatand the human smells from so many crowding, perspiring people, and ifthey are not made to recite the rosary they must remain quiet, bored, or asleep. At each movement or antic that may soil their clothingthey are pinched and scolded, so the fact is that they do not laughor feel happy, while in their round eyes can be read a protest againstso much embroidery and a longing for the old shirt of week-days. 

Afterwards, they are dragged from house to house to kiss theirrelatives' hands. There they have to dance, sing, and recite allthe amusing things they know, whether in the humor or not, whethercomfortable or not in their fine clothes, with the eternal pinchingsand scoldings if they play any of their tricks. Their relatives givethem cuartos which their parents seize upon and of which they hearnothing more. The only positive results they are accustomed to get fromthe fiesta are the marks of the aforesaid pinchings, the vexations, and at best an attack of indigestion from gorging themselves withcandy and cake in the houses of kind relatives. But such is thecustom, and Filipino children enter the world through these ordeals, which afterwards prove the least sad, the least hard, of their lives. 

Adult persons who live independently also share in this fiesta, by visiting their parents and their parents' relatives, crookingtheir knees, and wishing them a merry Christmas. Their Christmasgift consists of a sweetmeat, some fruit, a glass of water, or someinsignificant present. 

Tandang Selo saw all his friends pass and thought sadly that thisyear he had no Christmas gift for anybody, while his granddaughterhad gone without hers, without wishing him a merry Christinas. Wasit delicacy on Juli's part or pure forgetfulness?

When he tried to greet the relatives who called on him, bringing theirchildren, he found to his great surprise that he could not articulatea word. Vainly he tried, but no sound could he utter. He placed hishands on his throat, shook his head, but without effect. When he triedto laugh, his lips trembled convulsively and the only noise producedwas a hoarse wheeze like the blowing of bellows. 

The women gazed at him in consternation. "He's dumb, he's dumb!" theycried in astonishment, raising at once a literal pandemonium. 

CHAPTER IX

PILATES

When the news of this misfortune became known in the town, somelamented it and others shrugged their shoulders. No one was to blame, and no one need lay it on his conscience. 

The lieutenant of the Civil Guard gave no sign: he had received anorder to take up all the arms and he had performed his duty. He hadchased the tulisanes whenever he could, and when they captured CabesangTales he had organized an expedition and brought into the town, with their arms bound behind them, five or six rustics who lookedsuspicious, so if Cabesang Tales did not show up it was because hewas not in the pockets or under the skins of the prisoners, who werethoroughly shaken out. 

The friar-administrator shrugged his shoulders: he had nothing todo with it, it was a matter of tulisanes and he had merely done hisduty. True it was that if he had not entered the complaint, perhaps thearms would not have been taken up, and poor Tales would not have beencaptured; but he, Fray Clemente, had to look after his own safety, and that Tales had a way of staring at him as if picking out a goodtarget in some part of his body. Self-defense is natural. If thereare tulisanes, the fault is not his, it is not his duty to run themdown--that belongs to the Civil Guard. If Cabesang Tales, insteadof wandering about his fields, had stayed at home, he would not havebeen captured. In short, that was a punishment from heaven upon thosewho resisted the demands of his corporation. 

When Sister Penchang, the pious old woman in whose service Julihad entered, learned of it, she ejaculated several _'Susmarioseps_, crossed herself, and remarked, "Often God sends these trials becausewe are sinners or have sinning relatives, to whom we should havetaught piety and we haven't done so. "

Those _sinning relatives_ referred to Juliana, for to this piouswoman Juli was a great sinner. "Think of a girl of marriageable agewho doesn't yet know how to pray! _Jesús_, how scandalous! If thewretch doesn't say the _Diós te salve María_ without stopping at _escontigo_, and the _Santa María_ without a pause after _pecadores_, asevery good Christian who fears God ought to do! She doesn't know the_oremus gratiam_, and says _mentíbus_ for _méntibus_. Anybody hearingher would think she was talking about something else. _'Susmariosep!_"

Greatly scandalized, she made the sign of the cross and thanked God, who had permitted the capture of the father in order that the daughtermight be snatched from sin and learn the virtues which, accordingto the curates, should adorn every Christian woman. She thereforekept the girl constantly at work, not allowing her to return to thevillage to look after her grandfather. Juli had to learn how to pray, to read the books distributed by the friars, and to work until thetwo hundred and fifty pesos should be paid. 

When she learned that Basilio had gone to Manila to get his savingsand ransom Juli from her servitude, the good woman believed that thegirl was forever lost and that the devil had presented himself inthe guise of the student. Dreadful as it all was, how true was thatlittle book the curate had given her! Youths who go to Manila tostudy are ruined and then ruin the others. Thinking to rescue Juli, she made her read and re-read the book called _Tandang Basio Macunat_, [17] charging her always to go and see the curate in the convento, [18] as did the heroine, who is so praised by the author, a friar. 

Meanwhile, the friars had gained their point. They had certainlywon the suit, so they took advantage of Cabesang Tales' captivityto turn the fields over to the one who had asked for them, withoutthe least thought of honor or the faintest twinge of shame. Whenthe former owner returned and learned what had happened, when he sawhis fields in another's possession, --those fields that had cost thelives of his wife and daughter, --when he saw his father dumb and hisdaughter working as a servant, and when he himself received an orderfrom the town council, transmitted through the headman of the village, to move out of the house within three days, he said nothing; he satdown at his father's side and spoke scarcely once during the whole day. 

CHAPTER X

WEALTH AND WANT

On the following day, to the great surprise of the village, the jewelerSimoun, followed by two servants, each carrying a canvas-covered chest, requested the hospitality of Cabesang Tales, who even in the midstof his wretchedness did not forget the good Filipino customs--rather, he was troubled to think that he had no way of properly entertainingthe stranger. But Simoun brought everything with him, servants andprovisions, and merely wished to spend the day and night in the housebecause it was the largest in the village and was situated betweenSan Diego and Tiani, towns where he hoped to find many customers. 

Simoun secured information about the condition of the roads and askedCabesang Tales if his revolver was a sufficient protection againstthe tulisanes. 

"They have rifles that shoot a long way, " was the rather absent-mindedreply. 

"This revolver does no less, " remarked Simoun, firing at an areca-palmsome two hundred paces away. 

Cabesang Tales noticed that some nuts fell, but remained silentand thoughtful. 

Gradually the families, drawn by the fame of the jeweler's wares, began to collect. They wished one another merry Christmas, theytalked of masses, saints, poor crops, but still were there to spendtheir savings for jewels and trinkets brought from Europe. It wasknown that the jeweler was the friend of the Captain-General, so itwasn't lost labor to get on good terms with him, and thus be preparedfor contingencies. 

Capitan Basilio came with his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, preparedto spend at least three thousand pesos. Sister Penchang was there tobuy a diamond ring she had promised to the Virgin of Antipolo. Shehad left Juli at home memorizing a booklet the curate had sold her forfour cuartos, with forty days of indulgence granted by the Archbishopto every one who read it or listened to it read. 

"_Jesús!_" said the pious woman to Capitana Tika, "that poor girl hasgrown up like a mushroom planted by the _tikbalang. _ I've made her readthe book at the top of her voice at least fifty times and she doesn'tremember a single word of it. She has a head like a sieve--full whenit's in the water. All of us hearing her, even the dogs and cats, have won at least twenty years of indulgence. "

Simoun arranged his two chests on the table, one being somewhat largerthan the other. "You don't want plated jewelry or imitation gems. Thislady, " turning to Sinang, "wants real diamonds. "

"That's it, yes, sir, diamonds, old diamonds, antique stones, youknow, " she responded. "Papa will pay for them, because he likes antiquethings, antique stones. " Sinang was accustomed to joke about the greatdeal of Latin her father understood and the little her husband knew. 

"It just happens that I have some antique jewels, " replied Simoun, taking the canvas cover from the smaller chest, a polished steelcase with bronze trimmings and stout locks. "I have necklaces ofCleopatra's, real and genuine, discovered in the Pyramids; rings ofRoman senators and knights, found in the ruins of Carthage. "

"Probably those that Hannibal sent back after the battle ofCannae!" exclaimed Capitan Basilio seriously, while he trembled withpleasure. The good man, thought he had read much about the ancients, had never, by reason of the lack of museums in Filipinas, seen anyof the objects of those times. 

"I have brought besides costly earrings of Roman ladies, discoveredin the villa of Annius Mucius Papilinus in Pompeii. "

Capitan Easilio nodded to show that he understood and was eager tosee such precious relics. The women remarked that they also wantedthings from Rome, such as rosaries blessed by the Pope, holy relicsthat would take away sins without the need of confessions, and so on. 

When the chest was opened and the cotton packing removed, there wasexposed a tray filled with rings, reliquaries, lockets, crucifixes, brooches, and such like. The diamonds set in among variously coloredstones flashed out brightly and shimmered among golden flowers ofvaried hues, with petals of enamel, all of peculiar designs and rareArabesque workmanship. 

Simoun lifted the tray and exhibited another filled with quaint jewelsthat would have satisfied the imaginations of seven débutantes on theeves of the balls in their honor. Designs, one more fantastic thanthe other, combinations of precious stones and pearls worked intothe figures of insects with azure backs and transparent forewings, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, turquoises, diamonds, joined to formdragon-flies, wasps, bees, butterflies, beetles, serpents, lizards, fishes, sprays of flowers. There were diadems, necklaces of pearlsand diamonds, so that some of the girls could not withhold a _nakú_of admiration, and Sinang gave a cluck with her tongue, whereuponher mother pinched her to prevent her from encouraging the jewelerto raise his prices, for Capitana Tika still pinched her daughtereven after the latter was married. 

"Here you have some old diamonds, " explained the jeweler. "This ringbelonged to the Princess Lamballe and those earrings to one of MarieAntoinette's ladies. " They consisted of some beautiful solitairediamonds, as large as grains of corn, with somewhat bluish lights, and pervaded with a severe elegance, as though they still reflectedin their sparkles the shuddering of the Reign of Terror. 

"Those two earrings!" exclaimed Sinang, looking at her father andinstinctively covering the arm next to her mother. 

"Something more ancient yet, something Roman, " said Capitan Basiliowith a wink. 

The pious Sister Penchang thought that with such a gift the Virgin ofAntipolo would be softened and grant her her most vehement desire:for some time she had begged for a wonderful miracle to which hername would be attached, so that her name might be immortalized onearth and she then ascend into heaven, like the Capitana Ines of thecurates. She inquired the price and Simoun asked three thousand pesos, which made the good woman cross herself--_'Susmariosep!_

Simoun now exposed the third tray, which was filled with watches, cigar- and match-cases decorated with the rarest enamels, reliquariesset with diamonds and containing the most elegant miniatures. 

The fourth tray, containing loose gems, stirred a murmur ofadmiration. Sinang again clucked with her tongue, her mother againpinched her, although at the same time herself emitting a _'Susmaría_of wonder. 

No one there had ever before seen so much wealth. In that chest linedwith dark-blue velvet, arranged in trays, were the wonders of the_Arabian Nights, _ the dreams of Oriental fantasies. Diamonds as largeas peas glittered there, throwing out attractive rays as if they wereabout to melt or burn with all the hues of the spectrum; emeralds fromPeru, of varied forms and shapes; rubies from India, red as drops ofblood; sapphires from Ceylon, blue and white; turquoises from Persia;Oriental pearls, some rosy, some lead-colored, others black. Thosewho have at night seen a great rocket burst in the azure darkness ofthe sky into thousands of colored lights, so bright that they makethe eternal stars look dim, can imagine the aspect the tray presented. 

As if to increase the admiration of the beholders, Simoun took thestones out with his tapering brown fingers, gloating over theircrystalline hardness, their luminous stream, as they poured from hishands like drops of water reflecting the tints of the rainbow. Thereflections from so many facets, the thought of their great value, fascinated the gaze of every one. 

Cabesang Tales, who had approached out of curiosity, closed his eyesand drew back hurriedly, as if to drive away an evil thought. Suchgreat riches were an insult to his misfortunes; that man had come thereto make an exhibition of his immense wealth on the very day that he, Tales, for lack of money, for lack of protectors, had to abandon thehouse raised by his own hands. 

"Here you have two black diamonds, among the largest in existence, "explained the jeweler. "They're very difficult to cut because they'rethe very hardest. This somewhat rosy stone is also a diamond, as isthis green one that many take for an emerald. Quiroga the Chinamanoffered me six thousand pesos for it in order to present it to a veryinfluential lady, and yet it is not the green ones that are the mostvaluable, but these blue ones. "

He selected three stones of no great size, but thick and well-cut, of a delicate azure tint. 

"For all that they are smaller than the green, " he continued, "they cost twice as much. Look at this one, the smallest of all, weighing not more than two carats, which cost me twenty thousandpesos and which I won't sell for less than thirty. I had to make aspecial trip to buy it. This other one, from the mines of Golconda, weighs three and a half carats and is worth over seventy thousand. TheViceroy of India, in a letter I received the day before yesterday, offers me twelve thousand pounds sterling for it. "

Before such great wealth, all under the power of that man who talkedso unaffectedly, the spectators felt a kind of awe mingled withdread. Sinang clucked several times and her mother did not pinchher, perhaps because she too was overcome, or perhaps because shereflected that a jeweler like Simoun was not going to try to gainfive pesos more or less as a result of an exclamation more or lessindiscreet. All gazed at the gems, but no one showed any desire tohandle them, they were so awe-inspiring. Curiosity was blunted bywonder. Cabesang Tales stared out into the field, thinking that witha single diamond, perhaps the very smallest there, he could recoverhis daughter, keep his house, and perhaps rent another farm. Couldit be that those gems were worth more than a man's home, the safetyof a maiden, the peace of an old man in his declining days?

As if he guessed the thought, Simoun remarked to those about him: "Lookhere--with one of these little blue stones, which appear so innocentand inoffensive, pure as sparks scattered over the arch of heaven, with one of these, seasonably presented, a man was able to have hisenemy deported, the father of a family, as a disturber of the peace;and with this other little one like it, red as one's heart-blood, as the feeling of revenge, and bright as an orphan's tears, he wasrestored to liberty, the man was returned to his home, the father tohis children, the husband to the wife, and a whole family saved froma wretched future. "

He slapped the chest and went on in a loud tone in bad Tagalog: "HereI have, as in a medicine-chest, life and death, poison and balm, and with this handful I can drive to tears all the inhabitants ofthe Philippines!"

The listeners gazed at him awe-struck, knowing him to be right. Inhis voice there could be detected a strange ring, while sinisterflashes seemed to issue from behind the blue goggles. 

Then as if to relieve the strain of the impression made by the gems onsuch simple folk, he lifted up the tray and exposed at the bottom the_sanctum sanctorum_. Cases of Russian leather, separated by layers ofcotton, covered a bottom lined with gray velvet. All expected wonders, and Sinang's husband thought he saw carbuncles, gems that flashedfire and shone in the midst of the shadows. Capitan Basilio was onthe threshold of immortality: he was going to behold something real, something beyond his dreams. 

"This was a necklace of Cleopatra's, " said Simoun, taking out carefullya flat case in the shape of a half-moon. "It's a jewel that can't beappraised, an object for a museum, only for a rich government. "

It was a necklace fashioned of bits of gold representing little idolsamong green and blue beetles, with a vulture's head made from a singlepiece of rare jasper at the center between two extended wings--thesymbol and decoration of Egyptian queens. 

Sinang turned up her nose and made a grimace of childish depreciation, while Capitan Basilio, with all his love for antiquity, could notrestrain an exclamation of disappointment. 

"It's a magnificent jewel, well-preserved, almost two thousandyears old. "

"Pshaw!" Sinang made haste to exclaim, to prevent her father's fallinginto temptation. 

"Fool!" he chided her, after overcoming his first disappointment. "Howdo you know but that to this necklace is due the present conditionof the world? With this Cleopatra may have captivated Caesar, MarkAntony! This has heard the burning declarations of love from thegreatest warriors of their time, it has listened to speeches in thepurest and most elegant Latin, and yet you would want to wear it!"

"I? I wouldn't give three pesos for it. "

"You could give twenty, silly, " said Capitana Tika in a judicialtone. "The gold is good and melted down would serve for other jewelry. "

"This is a ring that must have belonged to Sulla, " continued Simoun, exhibiting a heavy ring of solid gold with a seal on it. 

"With that he must have signed the death-wrarrants during hisdictatorship!" exclaimed Capitan Basilio, pale with emotion. Heexamined it and tried to decipher the seal, but though he turnedit over and over he did not understand paleography, so he could notread it. 

"What a finger Sulla had!" he observed finally. "This would fit twoof ours--as I've said, we're degenerating!"

"I still have many other jewels--"

"If they're all that kind, never mind!" interrupted Sinang. "I thinkI prefer the modern. "

Each one selected some piece of jewelry, one a ring, another a watch, another a locket. Capitana Tika bought a reliquary that contained afragment of the stone on which Our Saviour rested at his third fall;Sinang a pair of earrings; and Capitan Basilio the watch-chain forthe alferez, the lady's earrings for the curate, and other gifts. Thefamilies from the town of Tiani, not to be outdone by those of SanDiego, in like manner emptied their purses. 

Simoun bought or exchanged old jewelry, brought there by economicalmothers, to whom it was no longer of use. 

"You, haven't you something to sell?" he asked Cabesang Tales, noticing the latter watching the sales and exchanges with covetouseyes, but the reply was that all his daughter's jewels had been sold, nothing of value remained. 

"What about Maria Clara's locket?" inquired Sinang. 

"True!" the man exclaimed, and his eyes blazed for a moment. 

"It's a locket set with diamonds and emeralds, " Sinang told thejeweler. "My old friend wore it before she became a nun. "

Simoun said nothing, but anxiously watched Cabesang Tales, who, afteropening several boxes, found the locket. He examined it carefully, opening and shutting it repeatedly. It was the same locket that MariaClara had worn during the fiesta in San Diego and which she had ina moment of compassion given to a leper. 

"I like the design, " said Simoun. "How much do you want for it?"

Cabesang Tales scratched his head in perplexity, then his ear, thenlooked at the women. 

"I've taken a fancy to this locket, " Simoun went on. "Will you take ahundred, five hundred pesos? Do you want to exchange it for somethingelse? Take your choice here!"

Tales stared foolishly at Simoun, as if in doubt of what heheard. "Five hundred pesos?" he murmured. 

"Five hundred, " repeated the jeweler in a voice shaking with emotion. 

Cabesang Tales took the locket and made several turns about the room, with his heart beating violently and his hands trembling. Dared he askmore? That locket could save him, this was an excellent opportunity, such as might not again present itself. 

The women winked at him to encourage him to make the sale, exceptingPenchang, who, fearing that Juli would be ransomed, observed piously:"I would keep it as a relic. Those who have seen Maria Clara in thenunnery say she has got so thin and weak that she can scarcely talkand it's thought that she'll die a saint. Padre Salvi speaks veryhighly of her and he's her confessor. That's why Juli didn't wantito give it up, but rather preferred to pawn herself. "

This speech had its effect--the thought of his daughter restrainedTales. "If you will allow me, " he said, "I'll go to the town toconsult my daughter. I'll be back before night. "

This was agreed upon and Tales set out at once. But when he foundhimself outside of the village, he made out at a distance, on a path, that entered the woods, the friar-administrator and a man whom herecognized as the usurper of his land. A husband seeing his wifeenter a private room with another man could not feel more wrath orjealousy than Cabesang Tales experienced when he saw them movingover his fields, the fields cleared by him, which he had thought toleave to his children. It seemed to him that they were mocking him, laughing at his powerlessness. There flashed into his memory what hehad said about never giving up his fields except to him who irrigatedthem with his own blood and buried in them his wife and daughter. 

He stopped, rubbed his hand over his forehead, and shut his eyes. Whenhe again opened them, he saw that the man had turned to laugh andthat the friar had caught his sides as though to save himself frombursting with merriment, then he saw them point toward his house andlaugh again. 

A buzz sounded in his ears, he felt the crack of a whip around hischest, the red mist reappeared before his eyes, he again saw thecorpses of his wife and daughter, and beside them the usurper withthe friar laughing and holding his sides. Forgetting everything else, he turned aside into the path they had taken, the one leading tohis fields. 

Simoun waited in vain for Cabesang Tales to return that night. Butthe next morning when he arose he noticed that the leather holster ofhis revolver was empty. Opening it he found inside a scrap of paperwrapped around the locket set with emeralds and diamonds, with thesefew lines written on it in Tagalog:

 "Pardon, sir, that in my own house I relieve you of what belongs to you, but necessity drives me to it. In exchange for your revolver I leave the locket you desired so much. I need the weapon, for I am going out to join the tulisanes. 

 "I advise you not to keep on your present road, because if you fall into our power, not then being my guest, we will require of you a large ransom. 

 Telesforo Juan de Dios. "

"At last I've found my man!" muttered Simoun with a deep breath. "He'ssomewhat scrupulous, but so much the better--he'll keep his promises. "

He then ordered a servant to go by boat over the lake to Los Baños withthe larger chest and await him there. He would go on overland, takingthe smaller chest, the one containing his famous jewels. The arrivalof four civil-guards completed his good humor. They came to arrestCabesang Tales and not finding him took Tandang Selo away instead. 

Three murders had been committed during the night. Thefriar-administrator and the new tenant of Cabesang Tales' land hadbeen found dead, with their heads split open and their mouths fullof earth, on the border of the fields. In the town the wife of theusurper was found dead at dawn, her mouth also filled with earth andher throat cut, with a fragment of paper beside her, on which wasthe name _Tales_, written in blood as though traced by a finger. 

Calm yourselves, peaceful inhabitants of Kalamba! None of you arenamed Tales, none of you have committed any crime! You are calledLuis Habaña, Matías Belarmino, Nicasio Eigasani, Cayetano de Jesús, Mateo Elejorde, Leandro Lopez, Antonino Lopez, Silvestre Ubaldo, Manuel Hidalgo, Paciano Mercado, your name is the whole village ofKalamba. [19] You cleared your fields, on them you have spent thelabor of your whole lives, your savings, your vigils and privations, and you have been despoiled of them, driven from your homes, with therest forbidden to show you hospitality! Not content with outragingjustice, they [20] have trampled upon the sacred traditions of yourcountry! You have served Spain and the King, and when in their nameyou have asked for justice, you were banished without trial, tornfrom your wives' arms and your children's caresses! Any one of you hassuffered more than Cabesang Tales, and yet none, not one of you, hasreceived justice! Neither pity nor humanity has been shown you--youhave been persecuted beyond the tomb, as was Mariano Herbosa! [21]Weep or laugh, there in those lonely isles where you wander vaguely, uncertain of the future! Spain, the generous Spain, is watching overyou, and sooner or later you will have justice!

CHAPTER XI

LOS BAÑOS

His Excellency, the Captain-General and Governor of the PhilippineIslands, had been hunting in Bosoboso. But as he had to beaccompanied by a band of music, --since such an exalted personagewas not to be esteemed less than the wooden images carried in theprocessions, --and as devotion to the divine art of St. Cecilia hasnot yet been popularized among the deer and wild boars of Bosoboso, his Excellency, with the band of music and train of friars, soldiers, and clerks, had not been able to catch a single rat or a solitary bird. 

The provincial authorities foresaw dismissals and transfers, the poorgobernadorcillos and cabezas de barangay were restless and sleepless, fearing that the mighty hunter in his wrath might have a notion to makeup with their persons for the lack of submissiveness on the part of thebeasts of the forest, as had been done years before by an alcalde whohad traveled on the shoulders of impressed porters because he found nohorses gentle enough to guarantee his safety. There was not lackingan evil rumor that his Excellency had decided to take some action, since in this he saw the first symptoms of a rebellion which should bestrangled in its infancy, that a fruitless hunt hurt the prestige ofthe Spanish name, that he already had his eye on a wretch to be dressedup as a deer, when his Excellency, with clemency that Ben-Zayb lackedwords to extol sufficiently, dispelled all the fears by declaring thatit pained him to sacrifice to his pleasure the beasts of the forest. 

But to tell the truth, his Excellency was secretly very well satisfied, for what would have happened had he missed a shot at a deer, one ofthose not familiar with political etiquette? What would the prestigeof the sovereign power have come to then? A Captain-General of thePhilippines missing a shot, like a raw hunter? What would have beensaid by the Indians, among whom there were some fair huntsmen? Theintegrity of the fatherland would have been endangered. 

So it was that his Excellency, with a sheepish smile, and posing as adisappointed hunter, ordered an immediate return to Los Baños. Duringthe journey he related with an indifferent air his hunting exploitsin this or that forest of the Peninsula, adopting a tone somewhatdepreciative, as suited the case, toward hunting in Filipinas. The bathin Dampalit, the hot springs on the shore of the lake, card-games inthe palace, with an occasional excursion to some neighboring waterfall, or the lake infested with caymans, offered more attractions and fewerrisks to the integrity of the fatherland. 

Thus on one of the last days of December, his Excellency found himselfin the sala, taking a hand at cards while he awaited the breakfasthour. He had come from the bath, with the usual glass of coconut-milkand its soft meat, so he was in the best of humors for granting favorsand privileges. His good humor was increased by his winning a good manyhands, for Padre Irene and Padre Sibyla, with whom he was playing, were exercising all their skill in secretly trying to lose, to thegreat irritation of Padre Camorra, who on account of his late arrivalonly that morning was not informed as to the game they were playingon the General. The friar-artilleryman was playing in good faith andwith great care, so he turned red and bit his lip every time PadreSibyla seemed inattentive or blundered, but he dared not say a wordby reason of the respect he felt for the Dominican. In exchange hetook his revenge out on Padre Irene, whom he looked upon as a basefawner and despised for his coarseness. Padre Sibyla let him scold, while the humbler Padre Irene tried to excuse himself by rubbing hislong nose. His Excellency was enjoying it and took advantage, likethe good tactician that the Canon hinted he was, of all the mistakesof his opponents. Padre Camorra was ignorant of the fact that acrossthe table they were playing for the intellectual development of theFilipinos, the instruction in Castilian, but had he known it he woulddoubtless have joyfully entered into that _game_. 

The open balcony admitted the fresh, pure breeze and revealed the lake, whose waters murmured sweetly around the base of the edifice, as ifrendering homage. On the right, at a distance, appeared Talim Island, a deep blue in the midst of the lake, while almost in front lay thegreen and deserted islet of Kalamba, in the shape of a half-moon. Tothe left the picturesque shores were fringed with clumps of bamboo, then a hill overlooking the lake, with wide ricefields beyond, thenred roofs amid the deep green of the trees, --the town of Kalamba, --andbeyond the shore-line fading into the distance, with the horizon atthe back closing down over the water, giving the lake the appearanceof a sea and justifying the name the Indians give it of _dagat natabang_, or fresh-water sea. 

At the end of the sala, seated before a table covered with documents, was the secretary. His Excellency was a great worker and did notlike to lose time, so he attended to business in the intervals ofthe game or while dealing the cards. Meanwhile, the bored secretaryyawned and despaired. That morning he had worked, as usual, overtransfers, suspensions of employees, deportations, pardons, and thelike, but had not yet touched the great question that had stirred somuch interest--the petition of the students requesting permission toestablish an academy of Castilian. Pacing from one end of the room tothe other and conversing animatedly but in low tones were to be seenDon Custodio, a high official, and a friar named Padre Fernandez, whohung his head with an air either of meditation or annoyance. From anadjoining room issued the click of balls striking together and burstsof laughter, amid which might be heard the sharp, dry voice of Simoun, who was playing billiards with Ben-Zayb. 

Suddenly Padre Camorra arose. "The devil with this game, _puñales!_"he exclaimed, throwing his cards at Padre Irene's head. "_Puñales_, that trick, if not all the others, was assured and we lost bydefault! _Puñales!_ The devil with this game!"

He explained the situation angrily to all the occupants of the sala, addressing himself especially to the three walking about, as if he hadselected them for judges. The general played thus, he replied withsuch a card, Padre Irene had a certain card; he led, and then thatfool of a Padre Irene didn't play his card! Padre Irene was givingthe game away! It was a devil of a way to play! His mother's son hadnot come here to rack his brains for nothing and lose his money!

Then he added, turning very red, "If the booby thinks my money growson every bush!... On top of the fact that my Indians are beginning tohaggle over payments!" Fuming, and disregarding the excuses of PadreIrene, who tried to explain while he rubbed the tip of his beak inorder to conceal his sly smile, he went into the billiardroom. 

"Padre Fernandez, would you like to take a hand?" asked Fray Sibyla. 

"I'm a very poor player, " replied the friar with a grimace. 

"Then get Simoun, " said the General. "Eh, Simoun! Eh, Mister, won'tyou try a hand?"

"What is your disposition concerning the arms for sportingpurposes?" asked the secretary, taking advantage of the pause. 

Simoun thrust his head through the doorway. 

"Don't you want to take Padre Camorra's place, Señor Sindbad?" inquiredPadre Irene. "You can bet diamonds instead of chips. "

"I don't care if I do, " replied Simoun, advancing while he brushedthe chalk from his hands. "What will you bet?"

"What should we bet?" returned Padre Sibyla. "The General can betwhat he likes, but we priests, clerics--"

"Bah!" interrupted Simoun ironically. "You and Padre Irene can paywith deeds of charity, prayers, and virtues, eh?"

"You know that the virtues a person may possess, " gravely arguedPadre Sibyla, "are not like the diamonds that may pass from hand tohand, to be sold and resold. They are inherent in the being, theyare essential attributes of the subject--"

"I'll be satisfied then if you pay me with promises, " replied Simounjestingly. "You, Padre Sibyla, instead of paying me five somethingor other in money, will say, for example: for five days I renouncepoverty, humility, and obedience. You, Padre Irene: I renouncechastity, liberality, and so on. Those are small matters, and I'mputting up my diamonds. "

"What a peculiar man this Simoun is, what notions he has!" exclaimedPadre Irene with a smile. 

"And _he_, " continued Simoun, slapping his Excellency familiarly onthe shoulder, "he will pay me with an order for five days in prison, or five months, or an order of deportation made out in blank, or letus say a summary execution by the Civil Guard while my man is beingconducted from one town to another. "

This was a strange proposition, so the three who had been pacingabout gathered around. 

"But, Señor Simoun, " asked the high official, "what good will youget out of winning promises of virtues, or lives and deportationsand summary executions?"

"A great deal! I'm tired of hearing virtues talked about and wouldlike to have the whole of them, all there are in the world, tied upin a sack, in order to throw them into the sea, even though I had touse my diamonds for sinkers. "

"What an idea!" exclaimed Padre Irene with another smile. "And thedeportations and executions, what of them?"

"Well, to clean the country and destroy every evil seed. "

"Get out! You're still sore at the tulisanes. But you were luckythat they didn't demand a larger ransom or keep all your jewels. Man, don't be ungrateful!"

Simoun proceeded to relate how he had been intercepted by a band oftulisanes, who, after entertaining him for a day, had let him go onhis way without exacting other ransom than his two fine revolvers andthe two boxes of cartridges he carried with him. He added that thetulisanes had charged him with many kind regards for his Excellency, the Captain-General. 

As a result of this, and as Simoun reported that the tulisanes werewell provided with shotguns, rifles, and revolvers, and against suchpersons one man alone, no matter how well armed, could not defendhimself, his Excellency, to prevent the tulisanes from gettingweapons in the future, was about to dictate a new decree forbiddingthe introduction of sporting arms. 

"On the contrary, on the contrary!" protested Simoun, "for me thetulisanes are the most respectable men in the country, they're theonly ones who earn their living honestly. Suppose I had fallen intothe hands--well, of you yourselves, for example, would you have letme escape without taking half of my jewels, at least?"

Don Custodio was on the point of protesting; that Simoun was reallya rude American mulatto taking advantage of his friendship with theCaptain-General to insult Padre Irene, although it may be true alsothat Padre Irene would hardly have set him free for so little. 

"The evil is not, " went on Simoun, "in that there are tulisanes inthe mountains and uninhabited parts--the evil lies in the tulisanesin the towns and cities. "

"Like yourself, " put in the Canon with a smile. 

"Yes, like myself, like all of us! Let's be frank, for no Indianis listening to us here, " continued the jeweler. "The evil is thatwe're not all openly declared tulisanes. When that happens and we alltake to the woods, on that day the country will be saved, on thatday will rise a new social order which will take care of itself, and his Excellency will be able to play his game in peace, withoutthe necessity of having his attention diverted by his secretary. "

The person mentioned at that moment yawned, extending his foldedarms above his head and stretching his crossed legs under the tableas far as possible, upon noticing which all laughed. His Excellencywished to change the course of the conversation, so, throwing downthe cards he had been shuffling, he said half seriously: "Come, come, enough of jokes and cards! Let's get to work, to work in earnest, since we still have a half-hour before breakfast. Are there manymatters to be got through with?"

All now gave their attention. That was the day for joining battleover the question of instruction in Castilian, for which purposePadre Sibyla and Padre Irene had been there several days. It was knownthat the former, as Vice-Rector, was opposed to the project and thatthe latter supported it, and his activity was in turn supported bythe Countess. 

"What is there, what is there?" asked his Excellency impatiently. 

"The petition about sporting arms, " replied the secretary with astifled yawn. 

"Forbidden!"

"Pardon, General, " said the high official gravely, "your Excellencywill permit me to invite your attention to the fact that the use ofsporting arms is permitted in all the countries of the world. "

The General shrugged his shoulders and remarked dryly, "We are notimitating any nation in the world. "

Between his Excellency and the high official there was always adifference of opinion, so it was sufficient that the latter offerany suggestion whatsoever to have the former remain stubborn. 

The high official tried another tack. "Sporting arms can harm onlyrats and chickens. They'll say--"

"But are we chickens?" interrupted the General, again shrugging hisshoulders. "Am I? I've demonstrated that I'm not. "

"But there's another thing, " observed the secretary. "Four months ago, when the possession of arms was prohibited, the foreign importerswere assured that sporting arms would be admitted. "

His Excellency knitted his brows. 

"That can be arranged, " suggested Simoun. 

"How?"

"Very simply. Sporting arms nearly all have a caliber of sixmillimeters, at least those now in the market. Authorize only thesale of those that haven't these six millimeters. "

All approved this idea of Simoun's, except the high official, whomuttered into Padre Fernandez's ear that this was not dignified, nor was it the way to govern. 

"The schoolmaster of Tiani, " proceeded the secretary, shuffling somepapers about, "asks for a better location for--"

"What better location can he want than the storehouse that he hasall to himself?" interrupted Padre Camorra, who had returned, havingforgotten about the card-game. 

"He says that it's roofless, " replied the secretary, "and that havingpurchased out of his own pocket some maps and pictures, he doesn'twant to expose them to the weather. "

"But I haven't anything to do with that, " muttered his Excellency. "Heshould address the head secretary, [22] the governor of the province, or the nuncio. "

"I want to tell you, " declared Padre Camorra, "that this littleschoolmaster is a discontented filibuster. Just imagine--the hereticteaches that corpses rot just the same, whether buried with great pompor without any! Some day I'm going to punch him!" Here he doubled uphis fists. 

"To tell the truth, " observed Padre Sibyla, as if speaking only toPadre Irene, "he who wishes to teach, teaches everywhere, in the openair. Socrates taught in the public streets, Plato in the gardens ofthe Academy, even Christ among the mountains and lakes. "

"I've heard several complaints against this schoolmaster, " said hisExcellency, exchanging a glance with Simoun. "I think the best thingwould be to suspend him. "

"Suspended!" repeated the secretary. 

The luck of that unfortunate, who had asked for help and receivedhis dismissal, pained the high official and he tried to do somethingfor him. 

"It's certain, " he insinuated rather timidly, "that education is notat all well provided for--"

"I've already decreed large sums for the purchase of supplies, "exclaimed his Excellency haughtily, as if to say, "I've done morethan I ought to have done. "

"But since suitable locations are lacking, the supplies purchasedget ruined. "

"Everything can't be done at once, " said his Excellency dryly. "Theschoolmasters here are doing wrong in asking for buildings when thosein Spain starve to death. It's great presumption to be better offhere than in the mother country itself!"

"Filibusterism--"

"Before everything the fatherland! Before everything else we areSpaniards!" added Ben-Zayb, his eyes glowing with patriotism, but heblushed somewhat when he noticed that he was speaking alone. 

"In the future, " decided the General, "all who complain will besuspended. "

"If my project were accepted--" Don Custodio ventured to remark, as if talking to himself. 

"For the construction of schoolhouses?"

"It's simple, practical, economical, and, like all my projects, derived from long experience and knowledge of the country. The townswould have schools without costing the government a cuarto. "

"That's easy, " observed the secretary sarcastically. "Compel thetowns to construct them at their own expense, " whereupon all laughed. 

"No, sir! No, sir!" cried the exasperated Don Custodio, turningvery red. "The buildings are already constructed and only wait to beutilized. Hygienic, unsurpassable, spacious--"

The friars looked at one another uneasily. Would Don Custodio proposethat the churches and conventos be converted into schoolhouses?

"Let's hear it, " said the General with a frown. 

"Well, General, it's very simple, " replied Don Custodio, drawinghimself up and assuming his hollow voice of ceremony. "The schoolsare open only on week-days and the cockpits on holidays. Then convertthese into schoolhouses, at least during the week. "

"Man, man, man!"

"What a lovely idea!"

"What's the matter with you, Don Custodio?"

"That's a grand suggestion!"

"That beats them all!"

"But, gentlemen, " cried Don Custodio, in answer to so manyexclamations, "let's be practical--what places are more suitablethan the cockpits? They're large, well constructed, and under acurse for the use to which they are put during the week-days. Froma moral standpoint my project would be acceptable, by serving as akind of expiation and weekly purification of the temple of chance, as we might say. "

"But the fact remains that sometimes there are cockfights during theweek, " objected Padre Camorra, "and it wouldn't be right when thecontractors of the cockpits pay the government--" [23]

"Well, on those days close the school!"

"Man, man!" exclaimed the scandalized Captain-General. "Such an outrageshall never be perpetrated while I govern! To close the schools inorder to gamble! Man, man, I'll resign first!" His Excellency wasreally horrified. 

"But, General, it's better to close them for a few days than formonths. "

"It would be immoral, " observed Padre Irene, more indignant even thanhis Excellency. 

"It's more immoral that vice has good buildings and learningnone. Let's be practical, gentlemen, and not be carried away bysentiment. In politics there's nothing worse than sentiment. Whilefrom humane considerations we forbid the cultivation of opium in ourcolonies, we tolerate the smoking of it, and the result is that wedo not combat the vice but impoverish ourselves. "

"But remember that it yields to the government, without any effort, more than four hundred and fifty thousand pesos, " objected Padre Irene, who was getting more and more on the governmental side. 

"Enough, enough, enough!" exclaimed his Excellency, to end thediscussion. "I have my own plans in this regard and will devote specialattention to the matter of public instruction. Is there anything else?"

The secretary looked uneasily toward Padre Sibyla and Padre Irene. Thecat was about to come out of the bag. Both prepared themselves. 

"The petition of the students requesting authorization to open anacademy of Castilian, " answered the secretary. 

A general movement was noted among those in the room. After glancingat one another they fixed their eyes on the General to learn whathis disposition would be. For six months the petition had lain thereawaiting a decision and had become converted into a kind of _casusbelli_ in certain circles. His Excellency had lowered his eyes, as if to keep his thoughts from being read. 

The silence became embarrassing, as the General understood, so heasked the high official, "What do you think?"

"What should I think, General?" responded the person addressed, witha shrug of his shoulders and a bitter smile. "What should I thinkbut that the petition is just, very just, and that I am surprisedthat six months should have been taken to consider it. "

"The fact is that it involves other considerations, " said Padre Sibylacoldly, as he half closed his eyes. 

The high official again shrugged his shoulders, like one who did notcomprehend what those considerations could be. 

"Besides the intemperateness of the demand, " went on the Dominican, "besides the fact that it is in the nature of an infringement onour prerogatives--"

Padre Sibyla dared not go on, but looked at Simoun. 

"The petition has a somewhat suspicious character, " corroboratedthat individual, exchanging a look with the Dominican, who winkedseveral times. 

Padre Irene noticed these things and realized that his cause wasalmost lost--Simoun was against him. 

"It's a peaceful rebellion, a revolution on stamped paper, " addedPadre Sibyla. 

"Revolution? Rebellion?" inquired the high official, staring fromone to the other as if he did not understand what they could mean. 

"It's headed by some young men charged with being too radical andtoo much interested in reforms, not to use stronger terms, " remarkedthe secretary, with a look at the Dominican. "Among them is a certainIsagani, a poorly balanced head, nephew of a native priest--"

"He's a pupil of mine, " put in Padre Fernandez, "and I'm much pleasedwith him. "

"_Puñales, _ I like your taste!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "On thesteamer we nearly had a fight. He's so insolent that when I gave hima shove aside he returned it. "

"There's also one Makaragui or Makarai--"

"Makaraig, " Padre Irene joined in. "A very pleasant and agreeableyoung man. "

Then he murmured into the General's ear, "He's the one I've talkedto you about, he's very rich. The Countess recommends him strongly. "

"Ah!"

"A medical student, one Basilio--"

"Of that Basilio, I'll say nothing, " observed Padre Irene, raisinghis hands and opening them, as if to say _Dominus vobiscum_. "He'stoo deep for me. I've never succeeded in fathoming what he wants orwhat he is thinking about. It's a pity that Padre Salvi isn't presentto tell us something about his antecedents. I believe that I've heardthat when a boy he got into trouble with the Civil Guard. His fatherwas killed in--I don't remember what disturbance. "

Simoun smiled faintly, silently, showing his sharp white teeth. 

"Aha! Aha!" said his Excellency nodding. "That's the kind we have! Makea note of that name. "

"But, General, " objected the high official, seeing that the matterwas taking a bad turn, "up to now nothing positive is known againstthese young men. Their position is a very just one, and we have noright to deny it on the ground of mere conjectures. My opinion is thatthe government, by exhibiting confidence in the people and in its ownstability, should grant what is asked, then it could freely revoke thepermission when it saw that its kindness was being abused--reasonsand pretexts would not be wanting, we can watch them. Why causedisaffection among some young men, who later on may feel resentment, when what they ask is commanded by royal decrees?"

Padre Irene, Don Custodio, and Padre Fernandez nodded in agreement. 

"But the Indians must not understand Castilian, you know, " cried PadreCamorra. "They mustn't learn it, for then they'll enter into argumentswith us, and the Indians must not argue, but obey and pay. They mustn'ttry to interpret the meaning of the laws and the books, they're sotricky and pettifogish! Just as soon as they learn Castilian theybecome enemies of God and of Spain. Just read the _Tandang BasioMacunat_--that's a book! It tells truths like this!" And he held uphis clenched fists. 

Padre Sibyla rubbed his hand over his tonsure in sign ofimpatience. "One word, " he began in the most conciliatory tone, thoughfuming with irritation, "here we're not dealing with the instructionin Castilian alone. Here there is an underhand fight between thestudents and the University of Santo Tomas. If the students win this, our prestige will be trampled in the dirt, they will say that they'vebeaten us and will exult accordingly. Then, good-by to moral strength, good-by to everything! The first dike broken down, who will restrainthis youth? With our fall we do no more than signal your own. Afterus, the government!"

"_Puñales_, that's not so!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "We'll see firstwho has the biggest fists!"

At this point Padre Fernandez, who thus far in the discussion hadmerely contented himself with smiling, began to talk. All gave himtheir attention, for they knew him to be a thoughtful man. 

"Don't take it ill of me, Padre Sibyla, if I differ from your viewof the affair, but it's my peculiar fate to be almost always inopposition to my brethren. I say, then, that we ought not to be sopessimistic. The instruction in Castilian can be allowed without anyrisk whatever, and in order that it may not appear to be a defeatof the University, we Dominicans ought to put forth our efforts andbe the first to rejoice over it--that should be our policy. To whatend are we to be engaged in an everlasting struggle with the people, when after all we are the few and they are the many, when we need themand they do not need us? Wait, Padre Camorra, wait! Admit that now thepeople may be weak and ignorant--I also believe that--but it will notbe true tomorrow or the day after. Tomorrow and the next day they willbe the stronger, they will know what is good for them, and we cannotkeep it from them, just as it is not possible to keep from childrenthe knowledge of many things when they reach a certain age. I say, then, why should we not take advantage of this condition of ignoranceto change our policy completely, to place it upon a basis solid andenduring--on the basis of justice, for example, instead of on the basisof ignorance? There's nothing like being just; that I've always said tomy brethren, but they won't believe me. The Indian idolizes justice, like every race in its youth; he asks for punishment when he hasdone wrong, just as he is exasperated when he has not deserved it. Istheirs a just desire? Then grant it! Let's give them all the schoolsthey want, until they are tired of them. Youth is lazy, and what urgesthem to activity is our opposition. Our bond of prestige, Padre Sibyla, is about worn out, so let's prepare another, the bond of gratitude, for example. Let's not be fools, let's do as the crafty Jesuits--"

"Padre Fernandez!" Anything could be tolerated by Padre Sibyla exceptto propose the Jesuits to him as a model. Pale and trembling, hebroke out into bitter recrimination. "A Franciscan first! Anythingbefore a Jesuit!" He was beside himself. 

"Oh, oh!"

"Eh, Padre--"

A general discussion broke out, regardless of the Captain-General. Alltalked at once, they yelled, they misunderstood and contradictedone another. Ben-Zayb and Padre Camorra shook their fists in eachother's faces, one talking of simpletons and the other of ink-slingers, Padre Sibyla kept harping on the _Capitulum_, and Padre Fernandez onthe _Summa_ of St. Thomas, until the curate of Los Baños entered toannounce that breakfast was served. 

His Excellency arose and so ended the discussion. "Well, gentlemen, "he said, "we've worked like niggers and yet we're on a vacation. Someone has said that grave matters should he considered at dessert. I'mentirely of that opinion. "

"We might get indigestion, " remarked the secretary, alluding to theheat of the discussion. 

"Then we'll lay it aside until tomorrow. "

As they rose the high official whispered to the General, "YourExcellency, the daughter of Cabesang Tales has been here again beggingfor the release of her sick grandfather, who was arrested in placeof her father. "

His Excellency looked at him with an expression of impatience andrubbed his hand across his broad forehead. "_Carambas_! Can't one beleft to eat his breakfast in peace?"

"This is the third day she has come. She's a poor girl--"

"Oh, the devil!" exclaimed Padre Camorra. "I've just thought of it. Ihave something to say to the General about that--that's what I cameover for--to support that girl's petition. "

The General scratched the back of his ear and said, "Oh, go along! Havethe secretary make out an order to the lieutenant of the Civil Guardfor the old man's release. They sha'n't say that we're not clementand merciful. "

He looked at Ben-Zayb. The journalist winked. 

CHAPTER XII

PLACIDO PENITENTE

Reluctantly, and almost with tearful eyes, Placido Penitente was goingalong the Escolta on his way to the University of Santo Tomas. Ithad hardly been a week since he had come from his town, yet he hadalready written to his mother twice, reiterating his desire to abandonhis studies and go back there to work. His mother answered that heshould have patience, that at the least he must be graduated as abachelor of arts, since it would be unwise to desert his books afterfour years of expense and sacrifices on both their parts. 

Whence came to Penitente this aversion to study, when he had beenone of the most diligent in the famous college conducted by PadreValerio in Tanawan? There Penitente had been considered one of thebest Latinists and the subtlest disputants, one who could tangle oruntangle the simplest as well as the most abstruse questions. Histownspeople considered him very clever, and his curate, influenced bythat opinion, already classified him as a filibuster--a sure proof thathe was neither foolish nor incapable. His friends could not explainthose desires for abandoning his studies and returning: he had nosweethearts, was not a gambler, hardly knew anything about _hunkían_and rarely tried his luck at the more familiar _revesino_. He didnot believe in the advice of the curates, laughed at _Tandang BasioMacunat_, had plenty of money and good clothes, yet he went to schoolreluctantly and looked with repugnance on his books. 

On the Bridge of Spain, a bridge whose name alone came from Spain, since even its ironwork came from foreign countries, he fell in withthe long procession of young men on their way to the Walled City totheir respective schools. Some were dressed in the European fashion andwalked rapidly, carrying books and notes, absorbed in thoughts of theirlessons and essays--these were the students of the Ateneo. Those fromSan Juan de Letran were nearly all dressed in the Filipino costume, butwere more numerous and carried fewer books. Those from the Universityare dressed more carefully and elegantly and saunter along carryingcanes instead of books. The collegians of the Philippines are not verynoisy or turbulent. They move along in a preoccupied manner, such thatupon seeing them one would say that before their eyes shone no hope, no smiling future. Even though here and there the line is brightenedby the attractive appearance of the schoolgirls of the _EscuelaMunicipal_, [24] with their sashes across their shoulders and theirbooks in their hands, followed by their servants, yet scarcely a laughresounds or a joke can be heard--nothing of song or jest, at best a fewheavy jokes or scuffles among the smaller boys. The older ones nearlyalways proceed seriously and composedly, like the German students. 

Placido was proceeding along the Paseo de Magallanes toward thebreach--formerly the gate--of Santo Domingo, when he suddenly felta slap on the shoulder, which made him turn quickly in ill humor. 

"Hello, Penitente! Hello, Penitente!"

It was his schoolmate Juanito Pelaez, the _barbero_ or pet of theprofessors, as big a rascal as he could be, with a roguish look anda clownish smile. The son of a Spanish mestizo--a rich merchant inone of the suburbs, who based all his hopes and joys on the boy'stalent--he promised well with his roguery, and, thanks to his customof playing tricks on every one and then hiding behind his companions, he had acquired a peculiar hump, which grew larger whenever he waslaughing over his deviltry. 

"What kind of time did you have, Penitente?" was his question as heagain slapped him on the shoulder. 

"So, so, " answered Placido, rather bored. "And you?"

"Well, it was great! Just imagine--the curate of Tiani invited me tospend the vacation in his town, and I went. Old man, you know PadreCamorra, I suppose? Well, he's a liberal curate, very jolly, frank, very frank, one of those like Padre Paco. As there were pretty girls, we serenaded them all, he with his guitar and songs and I with myviolin. I tell you, old man, we had a great time--there wasn't ahouse we didn't try!"

He whispered a few words in Placido's ear and then broke out intolaughter. As the latter exhibited some surprise, he resumed:"I'll swear to it! They can't help themselves, because with agovernmental order you get rid of the father, husband, or brother, and then--merry Christmas! However, we did run up against a littlefool, the sweetheart, I believe, of Basilio, you know? Look, what afool this Basilio is! To have a sweetheart who doesn't know a wordof Spanish, who hasn't any money, and who has been a servant! She'sas shy as she can be, but pretty. Padre Camorra one night started toclub two fellows who were serenading her and I don't know how it washe didn't kill them, yet with all that she was just as shy as ever. Butit'll result for her as it does with all the women, all of them!"

Juanito Pelaez laughed with a full mouth, as though he thought thisa glorious thing, while Placido stared at him in disgust. 

"Listen, what did the professor explain yesterday?" asked Juanito, changing the conversation. 

"Yesterday there was no class. "

"Oho, and the day before yesterday?"

"Man, it was Thursday!"

"Right! What an ass I am! Don't you know, Placido, that I'm gettingto be a regular ass? What about Wednesday?"

"Wednesday? Wait--Wednesday, it was a little wet. "

"Fine! What about Tuesday, old man?"

"Tuesday was the professor's nameday and we went to entertain himwith an orchestra, present him flowers and some gifts. "

"Ah, _carambas!_" exclaimed Juanito, "that I should have forgottenabout it! What an ass I am! Listen, did he ask for me?"

Penitente shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but they gave hima list of his entertainers. "

"_Carambas!_ Listen--Monday, what happened?"

"As it was the first school-day, he called the roll and assigned thelesson--about mirrors. Look, from here to here, by memory, word forword. We jump all this section, we take that. " He was pointing outwith his finger in the "Physics" the portions that were to be learned, when suddenly the book flew through the air, as a result of the slapJuanito gave it from below. 

"Thunder, let the lessons go! Let's have a _dia pichido!_"

The students in Manila call _dia pichido_ a school-day that fallsbetween two holidays and is consequently suppressed, as though forcedout by their wish. 

"Do you know that you really are an ass?" exclaimed Placido, pickingup his book and papers. 

"Let's have a _dia pichido!_" repeated Juanito. 

Placido was unwilling, since for only two the authorities were hardlygoing to suspend a class of more than a hundred and fifty. He recalledthe struggles and privations his mother was suffering in order to keephim in Manila, while she went without even the necessities of life. 

They were just passing through the breach of Santo Domingo, andJuanito, gazing across the little plaza [25] in front of the oldCustoms building, exclaimed, "Now I think of it, I'm appointed totake up the collection. "

"What collection?"

"For the monument. "

"What monument?"

"Get out! For Padre Balthazar, you know. "

"And who was Padre Balthazar?"

"Fool! A Dominican, of course--that's why the padres call on thestudents. Come on now, loosen up with three or four pesos, so that theymay see we are sports. Don't let them say afterwards that in orderto erect a statue they had to dig down into their own pockets. Do, Placido, it's not money thrown away. "

He accompanied these words with a significant wink. Placido recalledthe case of a student who had passed through the entire course bypresenting canary-birds, so he subscribed three pesos. 

"Look now, I'll write your name plainly so that the professor will readit, you see--Placido Penitente, three pesos. Ah, listen! In a coupleof weeks comes the nameday of the professor of natural history. Youknow that he's a good fellow, never marks absences or asks about thelesson. Man, we must show our appreciation!"

"That's right!"

"Then don't you think that we ought to give him a celebration? Theorchestra must not be smaller than the one you had for the professorof physics. "

"That's right!"

"What do you think about making the contribution two pesos? Come, Placido, you start it, so you'll be at the head of the list. "

Then, seeing that Placido gave the two pesos without hesitation, he added, "Listen, put up four, and afterwards I'll return youtwo. They'll serve as a decoy. "

"Well, if you're going to return them to me, why give them toyou? It'll be sufficient, for you to write four. "

"Ah, that's right! What an ass I am! Do you know, I'm getting to bea regular ass! But let me have them anyhow, so that I can show them. "

Placido, in order not to give the lie to the priest who christened him, gave what was asked, just as they reached the University. 

In the entrance and along the walks on each side of it were gatheredthe students, awaiting the appearance of the professors. Students ofthe preparatory year of law, of the fifth of the secondary course, of the preparatory in medicine, formed lively groups. The latterwere easily distinguished by their clothing and by a certain airthat was lacking in the others, since the greater part of them camefrom the Ateneo Municipal. Among them could be seen the poet Isagani, explaining to a companion the theory of the refraction of light. Inanother group they were talking, disputing, citing the statementsof the professor, the text-books, and scholastic principles; inyet another they were gesticulating and waving their books in theair or making demonstrations with their canes by drawing diagramson the ground; farther on, they were entertaining themselves inwatching the pious women go into the neighboring church, all thestudents making facetious remarks. An old woman leaning on a younggirl limped piously, while the girl moved along writh downcast eyes, timid and abashed to pass before so many curious eyes. The old lady, catching up her coffee-colored skirt, of the Sisterhood of St. Rita, to reveal her big feet and white stockings, scolded her companionand shot furious glances at the staring bystanders. 

"The rascals!" she grunted. "Don't look at them, keep your eyes down. "

Everything was noticed; everything called forth jokes and comments. Nowit was a magnificent victoria which stopped at the door to set down afamily of votaries on their way to visit the Virgin of the Rosary [26]on her favorite day, while the inquisitive sharpened their eyes to geta glimpse of the shape and size of the young ladies' feet as they gotout of the carriages; now it was a student who came out of the doorwith devotion still shining in his eyes, for he had passed throughthe church to beg the Virgin's help in understanding his lesson andto see if his sweetheart was there, to exchange a few glances withher and go on to his class with the recollection of her loving eyes. 

Soon there was noticed some movement in the groups, a certain air ofexpectancy, while Isagani paused and turned pale. A carriage drawnby a pair of well-known white horses had stopped at the door. Itwas that of Paulita Gomez, and she had already jumped down, lightas a bird, without giving the rascals time to see her foot. With abewitching whirl of her body and a sweep of her hand she arrangedthe folds of her skirt, shot a rapid and apparently careless glancetoward Isagani, spoke to him and smiled. Doña Victorina descendedin her turn, gazed over her spectacles, saw Juanito Pelaez, smiled, and bowed to him affably. 

Isagani, flushed with excitement, returned a timid salute, whileJuanito bowed profoundly, took off his hat, and made the same gestureas the celebrated clown and caricaturist Panza when he receivedapplause. 

"Heavens, what a girl!" exclaimed one of the students, startingforward. "Tell the professor that I'm seriously ill. " So Tadeo, as this invalid youth was known, entered the church to follow the girl. 

Tadeo went to the University every day to ask if the classes would beheld and each time seemed to be more and more astonished that theywould. He had a fixed idea of a latent and eternal _holiday_, andexpected it to come any day. So each morning, after vainly proposingthat they play truant, he would go away alleging important business, an appointment, or illness, just at the very moment when his companionswere going to their classes. But by some occult, thaumaturgic artTadeo passed the examinations, was beloved by the professors, andhad before him a promising future. 

Meanwhile, the groups began to move inside, for the professorof physics and chemistry had put in his appearance. The studentsappeared to be cheated in their hopes and went toward the interiorof the building with exclamations of discontent. Placido went alongwith the crowd. 

"Penitente, Penitente!" called a student with a certain mysteriousair. "Sign this!"

"What is it?"

"Never mind--sign it!"

It seemed to Placido that some one was twitching his ears. He recalledthe story of a cabeza de barangay in his town who, for having signeda document that he did not understand, was kept a prisoner for monthsand months, and came near to deportation. An uncle of Placido's, in order to fix the lesson in his memory, had given him a severeear-pulling, so that always whenever he heard signatures spoken of, his ears reproduced the sensation. 

"Excuse me, but I can't sign anything without first understandingwhat it's about. "

"What a fool you are! If two _celestial carbineers_ have signed it, what have you to fear?"

The name of _celestial carbineers_ inspired confidence, being, as itwas, a sacred company created to aid God in the warfare against theevil spirit and to prevent the smuggling of heretical contraband intothe markets of the New Zion. [27]

Placido was about to sign to make an end of it, because he was ina hurry, --already his classmates were reciting the _O Thoma_, --butagain his ears twitched, so he said, "After the class! I want to readit first. "

"It's very long, don't you see? It concerns the presentation of acounter-petition, or rather, a protest. Don't you understand? Makaraigand some others have asked that an academy of Castilian be opened, which is a piece of genuine foolishness--"

"All right, all right, after awhile. They're already beginning, "answered Placido, trying to get away. 

"But your professor may not call the roll--"

"Yes, yes; but he calls it sometimes. Later on, later on! Besides, I don't want to put myself in opposition to Makaraig. "

"But it's not putting yourself in opposition, it's only--"

Placido heard no more, for he was already far away, hurrying to hisclass. He heard the different voices--_adsum, adsum_--the roll wasbeing called! Hastening his steps he got to the door just as theletter Q was reached. 

"_Tinamáan ñg--!_" [28] he muttered, biting his lips. 

He hesitated about entering, for the mark was already down againsthim and was not to be erased. One did not go to the class tolearn but in order not to get this absence mark, for the class wasreduced to reciting the lesson from memory, reading the book, andat the most answering a few abstract, profound, captious, enigmaticquestions. True, the usual preachment was never lacking--the sameas ever, about humility, submission, and respect to the clerics, and he, Placido, was humble, submissive, and respectful. So he wasabout to turn away when he remembered that the examinations wereapproaching and his professor had not yet asked him a question norappeared to notice him--this would be a good opportunity to attracthis attention and become known! To be known was to gain a year, forif it cost nothing to suspend one who was not known, it required ahard heart not to be touched by the sight of a youth who by his dailypresence was a reproach over a year of his life wasted. 

So Placido went in, not on tiptoe as was his custom, but noisily on hisheels, and only too well did he succeed in his intent! The professorstared at him, knitted his brows, and shook his head, as though to say, "Ah, little impudence, you'll pay for that!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE CLASS IN PHYSICS

The classroom was a spacious rectangular hall with large gratedwindows that admitted an abundance of light and air. Along the twosides extended three wide tiers of stone covered with wood, filledwith students arranged in alphabetical order. At the end opposite theentrance, under a print of St. Thomas Aquinas, rose the professor'schair on an elevated platform with a little stairway on each side. Withthe exception of a beautiful blackboard in a narra frame, scarcelyever used, since there was still written on it the _viva_ that hadappeared on the opening day, no furniture, either useful or useless, was to be seen. The walls, painted white and covered with glazed tilesto prevent scratches, were entirely bare, having neither a drawingnor a picture, nor even an outline of any physical apparatus. Thestudents had no need of any, no one missed the practical instructionin an extremely experimental science; for years and years it has beenso taught and the country has not been upset, but continues just asever. Now and then some little instrument descended from heaven andwas exhibited to the class from a distance, like the monstrance tothe prostrate worshipers--look, but touch not! From time to time, when some complacent professor appeared, one day in the year wasset aside for visiting the mysterious laboratory and gazing fromwithout at the puzzling apparatus arranged in glass cases. No onecould complain, for on that day there were to be seen quantities ofbrass and glassware, tubes, disks, wheels, bells, and the like--theexhibition did not get beyond that, and the country was not upset. 

Besides, the students were convinced that those instruments had notbeen purchased for them--the friars would be fools! The laboratorywas intended to be shown to the visitors and the high officials whocame from the Peninsula, so that upon seeing it they would nod theirheads with satisfaction, while their guide would smile, as if to say, "Eh, you thought you were going to find some backward monks! Well, we're right up with the times--we have a laboratory!"

The visitors and high officials, after being handsomely entertained, would then write in their _Travels_ or _Memoirs_: "The Royaland Pontifical University of Santo Tomas of Manila, in charge ofthe enlightened Dominican Order, possesses a magnificent physicallaboratory for the instruction of youth. Some two hundred and fiftystudents annually study this subject, but whether from apathy, indolence, the limited capacity of the Indian, or some otherethnological or incomprehensible reason, up to now there has notdeveloped a Lavoisier, a Secchi, or a Tyndall, not even in miniature, in the Malay-Filipino race. "

Yet, to be exact, we will say that in this laboratory are held theclasses of thirty or forty _advanced_ students, under the direction ofan instructor who performs his duties well enough, but as the greaterpart of these students come from the Ateneo of the Jesuits, wherescience is taught practically in the laboratory itself, its utilitydoes not come to be so great as it would be if it could be utilized bythe two hundred and fifty who pay their matriculation fees, buy theirbooks, memorize them, and waste a year to know nothing afterwards. Asa result, with the exception of some rare usher or janitor who hashad charge of the museum for years, no one has ever been known toget any advantage from the lessons memorized with so great effort. 

But let us return to the class. The professor was a young Dominican, who had filled several chairs in San Juan de Letran with zeal andgood repute. He had the reputation of being a great logician as wellas a profound philosopher, and was one of the most promising in hisclique. His elders treated him with consideration, while the youngermen envied him, for there were also cliques among them. This was thethird year of his professorship and, although the first in which hehad taught physics and chemistry, he already passed for a sage, notonly with the complaisant students but also among the other nomadicprofessors. Padre Millon did not belong to the common crowd who eachyear change their subject in order to acquire scientific knowledge, students among other students, with the difference only that theyfollow a single course, that they quiz instead of being quizzed, that they have a better knowledge of Castilian, and that they are notexamined at the completion of the course. Padre Millon went deeplyinto science, knew the physics of Aristotle and Padre Amat, readcarefully his "Ramos, " and sometimes glanced at "Ganot. " With all that, he would often shake his head with an air of doubt, as he smiled andmurmured: "_transeat_. " In regard to chemistry, no common knowledgewas attributed to him after he had taken as a premise the statement ofSt. Thomas that water is a mixture and proved plainly that the AngelicDoctor had long forestalled Berzelius, Gay-Lussac, Bunsen, and othermore or less presumptuous materialists. Moreover, in spite of havingbeen an instructor in geography, he still entertained certain doubts asto the rotundity of the earth and smiled maliciously when its rotationand revolution around the sun were mentioned, as he recited the verses

 "El mentir de las estrellas Es un cómodo mentir. " [29]

He also smiled maliciously in the presence of certain physicaltheories and considered visionary, if not actually insane, theJesuit Secchi, to whom he imputed the making of triangulations onthe host as a result of his astronomical mania, for which reason itwas said that he had been forbidden to celebrate mass. Many personsalso noticed in him some aversion to the sciences that he taught, but these vagaries were trifles, scholarly and religious prejudicesthat were easily explained, not only by the fact that the physicalsciences were eminently practical, of pure observation and deduction, while his forte was philosophy, purely speculative, of abstractionand induction, but also because, like any good Dominican, jealousof the fame of his order, he could hardly feel any affection for ascience in which none of his brethren had excelled--he was the firstwho did not accept the chemistry of St. Thomas Aquinas--and in whichso much renown had been acquired by hostile, or rather, let us say, rival orders. 

This was the professor who that morning called the roll and directedmany of the students to recite the lesson from memory, word forword. The phonographs got into operation, some well, some ill, somestammering, and received their grades. He who recited without an errorearned a good mark and he who made more than three mistakes a bad mark. 

A fat boy with a sleepy face and hair as stiff and hard as the bristlesof a brush yawned until he seemed to be about to dislocate his jaws, and stretched himself with his arms extended as though he were inhis bed. The professor saw this and wished to startle him. 

"Eh, there, sleepy-head! What's this? Lazy, too, so it's sure you[30] don't know the lesson, ha?"

Padre Millon not only used the depreciative _tu_ with the students, like a good friar, but he also addressed them in the slang of themarkets, a practise that he had acquired from the professor ofcanonical law: whether that reverend gentleman wished to humble thestudents or the sacred decrees of the councils is a question not yetsettled, in spite of the great attention that has been given to it. 

This question, instead of offending the class, amused them, and manylaughed--it was a daily occurrence. But the sleeper did not laugh;he arose with a bound, rubbed his eyes, and, as though a steam-enginewere turning the phonograph, began to recite. 

"The name of mirror is applied to all polished surfaces intended toproduce by the reflection of light the images of the objects placedbefore said surfaces. From the substances that form these surfaces, they are divided into metallic mirrors and glass mirrors--"

"Stop, stop, stop!" interrupted the professor. "Heavens, what arattle! We are at the point where the mirrors are divided intometallic and glass, eh? Now if I should present to you a block ofwood, a piece of kamagon for instance, well polished and varnished, or a slab of black marble well burnished, or a square of jet, whichwould reflect the images of objects placed before them, how wouldyou classify those mirrors?"

Whether he did not know what to answer or did not understandthe question, the student tried to get out of the difficulty bydemonstrating that he knew the lesson, so he rushed on like a torrent. 

"The first are composed of brass or an alloy of different metals andthe second of a sheet of glass, with its two sides well polished, one of which has an amalgam of tin adhering to it. "

"Tut, tut, tut! That's not it! I say to you '_Dominus vobiscum_, 'and you answer me with '_Requiescat in pace!_' "

The worthy professor then repeated the question in the vernacular ofthe markets, interspersed with _cosas_ and _abás_ at every moment. 

The poor youth did not know how to get out of the quandary: he doubtedwhether to include the kamagon with the metals, or the marble withglasses, and leave the jet as a neutral substance, until JuanitoPelaez maliciously prompted him:

"The mirror of kamagon among the wooden mirrors. "

The incautious youth repeated this aloud and half the class wasconvulsed with laughter. 

"A good sample of wood you are yourself!" exclaimed the professor, laughing in spite of himself. "Let's see from what you would define amirror--from a surface _per se, in quantum est superficies_, or from asubstance that forms the surface, or from the substance upon which thesurface rests, the raw material, modified by the attribute 'surface, 'since it is clear that, surface being an accidental property of bodies, it cannot exist without substance. Let's see now--what do you say?"

"I? Nothing!" the wretched boy was about to reply, for he did notunderstand what it was all about, confused as he was by so manysurfaces and so many accidents that smote cruelly on his ears, buta sense of shame restrained him. Filled with anguish and breakinginto a cold perspiration, he began to repeat between his teeth:"The name of mirror is applied to all polished surfaces--"

"_Ergo, per te_, the mirror is the surface, " angled theprofessor. "Well, then, clear up this difficulty. If the surface is themirror, it must be of no consequence to the 'essence' of the mirrorwhat may be found behind this surface, since what is behind it doesnot affect the 'essence' that is before it, _id est_, the surface, _quae super faciem est, quia vocatur superficies, facies ea quaesupra videtur_. Do you admit that or do you not admit it?"

The poor youth's hair stood up straighter than ever, as though actedupon by some magnetic force. 

"Do you admit it or do you not admit it?"

"Anything! Whatever you wish, Padre, " was his thought, but he didnot dare to express it from fear of ridicule. That was a dilemmaindeed, and he had never been in a worse one. He had a vague ideathat the most innocent thing could not be admitted to the friarsbut that they, or rather their estates and curacies, would get outof it all the results and advantages imaginable. So his good angelprompted him to deny everything with all the energy of his soul andrefractoriness of his hair, and he was about to shout a proud _nego_, for the reason that he who denies everything does not compromisehimself in anything, as a certain lawyer had once told him; but theevil habit of disregarding the dictates of one's own conscience, of having little faith in legal folk, and of seeking aid from otherswhere one is sufficient unto himself, was his undoing. His companions, especially Juanito Pelaez, were making signs to him to admit it, so he let himself be carried away by his evil destiny and exclaimed, "_Concedo_, Padre, " in a voice as faltering as though he were saying, "_In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum. _"

"_Concedo antecedentum_, " echoed the professor, smilingmaliciously. "_Ergo_, I can scratch the mercury off a looking-glass, put in its place a piece of _bibinka_, and we shall still have amirror, eh? Now what shall we have?"

The youth gazed at his prompters, but seeing them surprised andspeechless, contracted his features into an expression of bitterestreproach. "_Deus meus, Deus meus, quare dereliquiste me, _" said histroubled eyes, while his lips muttered "_Linintikan!_" Vainly hecoughed, fumbled at his shirt-bosom, stood first on one foot and thenon the other, but found no answer. 

"Come now, what have we?" urged the professor, enjoying the effectof his reasoning. 

"_Bibinka!_" whispered Juanito Pelaez. "_Bibinka!_"

"Shut up, you fool!" cried the desperate youth, hoping to get out ofthe difficulty by turning it into a complaint. 

"Let's see, Juanito, if you can answer the question for me, " theprofessor then said to Pelaez, who was one of his pets. 

The latter rose slowly, not without first giving Penitente, whofollowed him on the roll, a nudge that meant, "Don't forget toprompt me. "

"_Nego consequentiam_, Padre, " he replied resolutely. 

"Aha, then _probo consequentiam! Per te_, the polished surfaceconstitutes the 'essence' of the mirror--"

_"Nego suppositum!"_ interrupted Juanito, as he felt Placido pullingat his coat. 

"How? _Per te_--"

"_Nego!_"

"_Ergo, _ you believe that what is behind affects what is in front?"

_"Nego!"_ the student cried with still more ardor, feeling anotherjerk at his coat. 

Juanito, or rather Placido, who was prompting him, was unconsciouslyadopting Chinese tactics: not to admit the most inoffensive foreignerin order not to be invaded. 

"Then where are we?" asked the professor, somewhat disconcerted, and looking uneasily at the refractory student. "Does the substancebehind affect, or does it not affect, the surface?"

To this precise and categorical question, a kind of ultimatum, Juanitodid not know what to reply and his coat offered no suggestions. In vainhe made signs to Placido, but Placido himself was in doubt. Juanitothen took advantage of a moment in which the professor was staringat a student who was cautiously and secretly taking off the shoesthat hurt his feet, to step heavily on Placido's toes and whisper, "Tell me, hurry up, tell me!"

"I distinguish--Get out! What an ass you are!" yelled Placidounreservedly, as he stared with angry eyes and rubbed his hand overhis patent-leather shoe. 

The professor heard the cry, stared at the pair, and guessed whathad happened. 

"Listen, you meddler, " he addressed Placido, "I wasn't questioningyou, but since you think you can save others, let's see if you cansave yourself, _salva te ipsum, _ and decide this question. "

Juanito sat down in content, and as a mark of gratitude stuck outhis tongue at his prompter, who had arisen blushing with shame andmuttering incoherent excuses. 

For a moment Padre Millon regarded him as one gloating over a favoritedish. What a good thing it would be to humiliate and hold up toridicule that dudish boy, always smartly dressed, with head erectand serene look! It would be a deed of charity, so the charitableprofessor applied himself to it with all his heart, slowly repeatingthe question. 

"The book says that the metallic mirrors are made of brass and analloy of different metals--is that true or is it not true?"

"So the book says, Padre. "

"_Liber dixit, ergo ita est_. Don't pretend that you know more than thebook does. It then adds that the glass mirrors are made of a sheet ofglass whose two surfaces are well polished, one of them having appliedto it an amalgam of tin, _nota bene_, an amalgam of tin! Is that true?"

"If the book says so, Padre. "

"Is tin a metal?"

"It seems so, Padre. The book says so. "

"It is, it is, and the word amalgam means that it is compounded withmercury, which is also a metal. _Ergo_, a glass mirror is a metallicmirror; _ergo_, the terms of the distinction are confused; _ergo_, the classification is imperfect--how do you explain that, meddler?"

He emphasized the _ergos_ and the familiar "you's" with indescribablerelish, at the same time winking, as though to say, "You're done for. "

"It means that, it means that--" stammered Placido. 

"It means that you haven't learned the lesson, you petty meddler, you don't understand it yourself, and yet you prompt your neighbor!"

The class took no offense, but on the contrary many thought theepithet funny and laughed. Placido bit his lips. 

"What's your name?" the professor asked him. 

"Placido, " was the curt reply. 

"Aha! Placido Penitente, although you look more like Placido thePrompter--or the Prompted. But, _Penitent_, I'm going to impose some_penance_ on you for your promptings. "

Pleased with his play on words, he ordered the youth to recite thelesson, and the latter, in the state of mind to which he was reduced, made more than three mistakes. Shaking his head up and down, theprofessor slowly opened the register and slowly scanned it while hecalled off the names in a low voice. 

"Palencia--Palomo--Panganiban--Pedraza--Pelado--Pelaez--Penitents, aha! Placido Penitente, fifteen unexcused absences--"

Placido started up. "Fifteen absences, Padre?"

"Fifteen unexcused absences, " continued the professor, "so that youonly lack one to be dropped from the roll. "

"Fifteen absences, fifteen absences, " repeated Placido inamazement. "I've never been absent more than four times, and withtoday, perhaps five. "

"Jesso, jesso, monseer, " [31] replied the professor, examining theyouth over his gold eye-glasses. "You confess that you have missedfive times, and God knows if you may have missed oftener. _Atqui_, as I rarely call the roll, every time I catch any one I put fivemarks against him; _ergo_, how many are five times five? Have youforgotten the multiplication table? Five times five?"

"Twenty-five. "

"Correct, correct! Thus you've still got away with ten, because I havecaught you only three times. Huh, if I had caught you every time--Now, how many are three times five?"

"Fifteen. "

"Fifteen, right you are!" concluded the professor, closing theregister. "If you miss once more--out of doors with you, get out! Ah, now a mark for the failure in the daily lesson. "

He again opened the register, sought out the name, and entered themark. "Come, only one mark, " he said, "since you hadn't any before. "

"But, Padre, " exclaimed Placido, restraining himself, "if yourReverence puts a mark against me for failing in the lesson, yourReverence owes it to me to erase the one for absence that you haveput against me for today. "

His Reverence made no answer. First he slowly entered the mark, then contemplated it with his head on one side, --the mark must beartistic, --closed the register, and asked with great sarcasm, "_Abá_, and why so, sir?"

"Because I can't conceive, Padre, how one can be absent from theclass and at the same time recite the lesson in it. Your Reverenceis saying that to be is not to be. "

"_Nakú_, a metaphysician, but a rather premature one! So you can'tconceive of it, eh? _Sed patet experientia_ and _contra experientiamnegantem, fusilibus est arguendum_, do you understand? And can'tyou conceive, with your philosophical head, that one can be absentfrom the class and not know the lesson at the same time? Is it a factthat absence necessarily implies knowledge? What do you say to that, philosophaster?"

This last epithet was the drop of water that made the full cupoverflow. Placido enjoyed among his friends the reputation of beinga philosopher, so he lost his patience, threw down his book, arose, and faced the professor. 

"Enough, Padre, enough! Your Reverence can put all the marks against methat you wish, but you haven't the right to insult me. Your Reverencemay stay with the class, I can't stand any more. " Without furtherfarewell, he stalked away. 

The class was astounded; such an assumption of dignity had scarcelyever been seen, and who would have thought it of Placido Penitente? Thesurprised professor bit his lips and shook his head threateningly as hewatched him depart. Then in a trembling voice he began his preachmenton the same old theme, delivered however with more energy and moreeloquence. It dealt with the growing arrogance, the innate ingratitude, the presumption, the lack of respect for superiors, the pride thatthe spirit of darkness infused in the young, the lack of manners, the absence of courtesy, and so on. From this he passed to coarsejests and sarcasm over the presumption which some good-for-nothing"prompters" had of teaching their teachers by establishing an academyfor instruction in Castilian. 

"Aha, aha!" he moralized, "those who the day before yesterday scarcelyknew how to say, 'Yes, Padre, ' 'No, Padre, ' now want to know morethan those who have grown gray teaching them. He who wishes to learn, will learn, academies or no academies! Undoubtedly that fellow whohas just gone out is one of those in the project. Castilian is in goodhands with such guardians! When are you going to get the time to attendthe academy if you have scarcely enough to fulfill your duties in theregular classes? We wish that you may all know Spanish and that youpronounce it well, so that you won't split our ear-drums with yourtwist of expression and your 'p's'; [32] but first business and thenpleasure: finish your studies first, and afterwards learn Castilian, and all become clerks, if you so wish. "

So he went on with his harangue until the bell rang and the class wasover. The two hundred and thirty-four students, after reciting theirprayers, went out as ignorant as when they went in, but breathing morefreely, as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Each youth hadlost another hour of his life and with it a portion of his dignity andself-respect, and in exchange there was an increase of discontent, of aversion to study, of resentment in their hearts. After all thisask for knowledge, dignity, gratitude!

_De nobis, post haec, tristis sententia fertur_!

Just as the two hundred and thirty-four spent their class hours, so the thousands of students who preceded them have spent theirs, and, if matters do not mend, so will those yet to come spend theirs, and be brutalized, while wounded dignity and youthful enthusiasmwill be converted into hatred and sloth, like the waves that becomepolluted along one part of the shore and roll on one after another, each in succession depositing a larger sediment of filth. But yet Hewho from eternity watches the consequences of a deed develop like athread through the loom of the centuries, He who weighs the valueof a second and has ordained for His creatures as an elementallaw progress and development, He, if He is just, will demand astrict accounting from those who must render it, of the millions ofintelligences darkened and blinded, of human dignity trampled uponin millions of His creatures, and of the incalculable time lost andeffort wasted! And if the teachings of the Gospel are based on truth, so also will these have to answer--the millions and millions who donot know how to preserve the light of their intelligences and theirdignity of mind, as the master demanded an accounting from the cowardlyservant for the talent that he let be taken from him. 

CHAPTER XIV

IN THE HOUSE OF THE STUDENTS

The house where Makaraig lived was worth visiting. Large and spacious, with two entresols provided with elegant gratings, it seemed to bea school during the first hours of the morning and pandemonium fromten o'clock on. During the boarders' recreation hours, from the lowerhallway of the spacious entrance up to the main floor, there was abubbling of laughter, shouts, and movement. Boys in scanty clothingplayed _sipa_ or practised gymnastic exercises on improvised trapezes, while on the staircase a fight was in progress between eight or ninearmed with canes, sticks, and ropes, but neither attackers nor attackeddid any great damage, their blows generally falling sidewise upon theshoulders of the Chinese pedler who was there selling his outlandishmixtures and indigestible pastries. Crowds of boys surrounded him, pulled at his already disordered queue, snatched pies from him, haggled over the prices, and committed a thousand deviltries. TheChinese yelled, swore, forswore, in all the languages he could jabber, not omitting his own; he whimpered, laughed, pleaded, put on a smilingface when an ugly one would not serve, or the reverse. 

He cursed them as devils, savages, _no kilistanos_ [33] but thatmattered nothing. A whack would bring his face around smiling, andif the blow fell only upon his shoulders he would calmly continuehis business transactions, contenting himself with crying out tothem that he was not in the game, but if it struck the flat basketon which were placed his wares, then he would swear never to comeagain, as he poured out upon them all the imprecations and anathemasimaginable. Then the boys would redouble their efforts to make himrage the more, and when at last his vocabulary was exhausted and theywere satiated with his fearful mixtures, they paid him religiously, and sent him away happy, winking, chuckling to himself, and receivingas caresses the light blows from their canes that the students gavehim as tokens of farewell. 

Concerts on the piano and violin, the guitar, and the accordion, alternated with the continual clashing of blades from the fencinglessons. Around a long, wide table the students of the Ateneo preparedtheir compositions or solved their problems by the side of otherswriting to their sweethearts on pink perforated note-paper coveredwith drawings. Here one was composing a melodrama at the side ofanother practising on the flute, from which he drew wheezy notes. Overthere, the older boys, students in professional courses, who affectedsilk socks and embroidered slippers, amused themselves in teasingthe smaller boys by pulling their ears, already red from repeatedfillips, while two or three held down a little fellow who yelled andcried, defending himself with his feet against being reduced to thecondition in which he was born, kicking and howling. In one room, around a small table, four were playing _revesino_ with laughter andjokes, to the great annoyance of another who pretended to be studyinghis lesson but who was in reality waiting his turn to play. 

Still another came in with exaggerated wonder, scandalized as heapproached the table. "How wicked you are! So early in the morningand already gambling! Let's see, let's see! You fool, take it withthe three of spades!" Closing his book, he too joined in the game. 

Cries and blows were heard. Two boys were fighting in the adjoiningroom--a lame student who was very sensitive about his infirmity andan unhappy newcomer from the provinces who was just commencing hisstudies. He was working over a treatise on philosophy and readinginnocently in a loud voice, with a wrong accent, the Cartesianprinciple: "_Cogito, ergo sum!_"

The little lame boy (_el cojito_) took this as an insult and the othersintervened to restore peace, but in reality only to sow discord andcome to blows themselves. 

In the dining-room a young man with a can of sardines, a bottle ofwine, and the provisions that he had just brought from his town, wasmaking heroic efforts to the end that his friends might participatein his lunch, while they were offering in their turn heroic resistanceto his invitation. Others were bathing on the azotea, playing firemenwith the water from the well, and joining in combats with pails ofwater, to the great delight of the spectators. 

But the noise and shouts gradually died away with the coming of leadingstudents, summoned by Makaraig to report to them the progress of theacademy of Castilian. Isagani was cordially greeted, as was also thePeninsular, Sandoval, who had come to Manila as a government employeeand was finishing his studies, and who had completely identifiedhimself with the cause of the Filipino students. The barriers thatpolitics had established between the races had disappeared in theschoolroom as though dissolved by the zeal of science and youth. 

From lack of lyceums and scientific, literary, or political centers, Sandoval took advantage of all the meetings to cultivate his greatoratorical gifts, delivering speeches and arguing on any subject, to draw forth applause from his friends and listeners. At that momentthe subject of conversation was the instruction in Castilian, but asMakaraig had not yet arrived conjecture was still the order of the day. 

"What can have happened?"

"What has the General decided?"

"Has he refused the permit?"

"Has Padre Irene or Padre Sibyla won?"

Such were the questions they asked one another, questions that couldbe answered only by Makaraig. 

Among the young men gathered together there were optimists like Isaganiand Sandoval, who saw the thing already accomplished and talked ofcongratulations and praise from the government for the patriotism ofthe students--outbursts of optimism that led Juanito Pelaez to claimfor himself a large part of the glory of founding the society. 

All this was answered by the pessimist Pecson, a chubby youth witha wide, clownish grin, who spoke of outside influences, whether theBishop A. , the Padre B. , or the Provincial C. , had been consulted ornot, whether or not they had advised that the whole association shouldbe put in jail--a suggestion that made Juanito Pelaez so uneasy thathe stammered out, "_Carambas_, don't you drag me into--"

Sandoval, as a Peninsular and a liberal, became furious atthis. "But pshaw!" he exclaimed, "that is holding a bad opinion of hisExcellency! I know that he's quite a friar-lover, but in such a matteras this he won't let the friars interfere. Will you tell me, Pecson, onwhat you base your belief that the General has no judgment of his own?"

"I didn't say that, Sandoval, " replied Pecson, grinning until heexposed his wisdom-tooth. "For me the General has _his own_ judgment, that is, the judgment of all those within his reach. That's plain!"

"You're dodging--cite me a fact, cite me a fact!" criedSandoval. "Let's get away from hollow arguments, from empty phrases, and get on the solid ground of facts, "--this with an elegantgesture. "Facts, gentlemen, facts! The rest is prejudice--I won'tcall it filibusterism. "

Pecson smiled like one of the blessed as he retorted, "There comes thefilibusterism. But can't we enter into a discussion without resortingto accusations?"

Sandoval protested in a little extemporaneous speech, again demandingfacts. 

"Well, not long ago there was a dispute between some private personsand certain friars, and the acting Governor rendered a decisionthat it should be settled by the Provincial of the Order concerned, "replied Pecson, again breaking out into a laugh, as though he weredealing with an insignificant matter, he cited names and dates, and promised documents that would prove how justice was dispensed. 

"But, on what ground, tell me this, on what ground can they refusepermission for what plainly appears to be extremely useful andnecessary?" asked Sandoval. 

Pecson shrugged his shoulders. "It's that it endangers the integrityof the fatherland, " he replied in the tone of a notary reading anallegation. 

"That's pretty good! What has the integrity of the fatherland to dowith the rules of syntax?"

"The Holy Mother Church has learned doctors--what do I know? Perhapsit is feared that we may come to understand the laws so that we canobey them. What will become of the Philippines on the day when weunderstand one another?"

Sandoval did not relish the dialectic and jesting turn of theconversation; along that path could rise no speech worth thewhile. "Don't make a joke of things!" he exclaimed. "This is aserious matter. "

"The Lord deliver me from joking when there are friars concerned!"

"But, on what do you base--"

"On the fact that, the hours for the classes having to come atnight, " continued Pecson in the same tone, as if he were quotingknown and recognized formulas, "there may be invoked as an obstaclethe immorality of the thing, as was done in the case of the schoolat Malolos. "

"Another! But don't the classes of the Academy of Drawing, and thenovenaries and the processions, cover themselves with the mantleof night?"

"The scheme affects the dignity of the University, " went on the chubbyyouth, taking no notice of the question. 

"Affects nothing! The University has to accommodate itself to the needsof the students. And granting that, what is a university then? Is itan institution to discourage study? Have a few men banded themselvestogether in the name of learning and instruction in order to preventothers from becoming enlightened?"

"The fact is that movements initiated from below are regarded asdiscontent--"

"What about projects that come from above?" interpolated one of thestudents. "There's the School of Arts and Trades!"

"Slowly, slowly, gentlemen, " protested Sandoval. "I'm not afriar-lover, my liberal views being well known, but render unto Caesarthat which is Caesar's. Of that School of Arts and Trades, of which Ihave been the most enthusiastic supporter and the realization of whichI shall greet as the first streak of dawn for these fortunate islands, of that School of Arts and Trades the friars have taken charge--"

"Or the cat of the canary, which amounts to the same thing, " addedPecson, in his turn interrupting the speech. 

"Get out!" cried Sandoval, enraged at the interruption, which hadcaused him to lose the thread of his long, well-rounded sentence. "Aslong as we hear nothing bad, let's not be pessimists, let's not beunjust, doubting the liberty and independence of the government. "

Here he entered upon a defense in beautiful phraseology of thegovernment and its good intentions, a subject that Pecson dared notbreak in upon. 

"The Spanish government, " he said among other things, "has givenyou everything, it has denied you nothing! We had absolutism inSpain and you had absolutism here; the friars covered our soil withconventos, and conventos occupy a third part of Manila; in Spainthe garrote prevails and here the garrote is the extreme punishment;we are Catholics and we have made you Catholics; we were scholasticsand scholasticism sheds its light in your college halls; in short, gentlemen, we weep when you weep, we suffer when you suffer, we havethe same altars, the same courts, the same punishments, and it isonly just that we should give you our rights and our joys. "

As no one interrupted him, he became more and more enthusiastic, until he came to speak of the future of the Philippines. 

"As I have said, gentlemen, the dawn is not far distant. Spain is nowbreaking the eastern sky for her beloved Philippines, and the timesare changing, as I positively know, faster than we imagine. Thisgovernment, which, according to you, is vacillating and weak, shouldbe strengthened by our confidence, that we may make it see that it isthe custodian of our hopes. Let us remind it by our conduct (shouldit ever forget itself, which I do not believe can happen) that wehave faith in its good intentions and that it should be guided by noother standard than justice and the welfare of all the governed. No, gentlemen, " he went on in a tone more and more declamatory, "we mustnot admit at all in this matter the possibility of a consultation withother more or less hostile entities, as such a supposition would implyour resignation to the fact. Your conduct up to the present has beenfrank, loyal, without vacillation, above suspicion; you have addressedit simply and directly; the reasons you have presented could not bemore sound; your aim is to lighten the labor of the teachers in thefirst years and to facilitate study among the hundreds of studentswho fill the college halls and for whom one solitary professor cannotsuffice. If up to the present the petition has not been granted, ithas been for the reason, as I feel sure, that there has been a greatdeal of material accumulated, but I predict that the campaign iswon, that the summons of Makaraig is to announce to us the victory, and tomorrow we shall see our efforts crowned with the applause andappreciation of the country, and who knows, gentlemen, but that thegovernment may confer upon you some handsome decoration of merit, benefactors as you are of the fatherland!"

Enthusiastic applause resounded. All immediately believed in thetriumph, and many in the decoration. 

"Let it be remembered, gentlemen, " observed Juanito, "that I was oneof the first to propose it. "

The pessimist Pecson was not so enthusiastic. "Just so we don't getthat decoration on our ankles, " he remarked, but fortunately forPelaez this comment was not heard in the midst of the applause. 

When they had quieted down a little, Pecson replied, "Good, good, very good, but one supposition: if in spite of all that, the Generalconsults and consults and consults, and afterwards refuses the permit?"

This question fell like a dash of cold water. All turned to Sandoval, who was taken aback. "Then--" he stammered. 

"Then?"

"Then, " he exclaimed in a burst of enthusiasm, still excited by theapplause, "seeing that in writing and in printing it boasts of desiringyour enlightenment, and yet hinders and denies it when called upon tomake it a reality--then, gentlemen, your efforts will not have beenin vain, you will have accomplished what no one else has been ableto do. Make them drop the mask and fling down the gauntlet to you!"

"Bravo, bravo!" cried several enthusiastically. 

"Good for Sandoval! Hurrah for the gauntlet!" added others. 

"Let them fling down the gauntlet to us!" repeated Pecsondisdainfully. "But afterwards?"

Sandoval seemed to be cut short in his triumph, but with the vivacitypeculiar to his race and his oratorical temperament he had animmediate reply. 

"Afterwards?" he asked. "Afterwards, if none of the Filipinos dareto accept the challenge, then I, Sandoval, in the name of Spain, willtake up the gauntlet, because such a policy would give the lie to thegood intentions that she has always cherished toward her provinces, and because he who is thus faithless to the trust reposed in him andabuses his unlimited authority deserves neither the protection ofthe fatherland nor the support of any Spanish citizen!"

The enthusiasm of his hearers broke all bounds. Isagani embraced him, the others following his example. They talked of the fatherland, of union, of fraternity, of fidelity. The Filipinos declared thatif there were only Sandovals in Spain all would be Sandovals in thePhilippines. His eyes glistened, and it might well be believed that ifat that moment any kind of gauntlet had been flung at him he would haveleaped upon any kind of horse to ride to death for the Philippines. 

The "cold water" alone replied: "Good, that's very good, Sandoval. Icould also say the same if I were a Peninsular, but not being one, if I should say one half of what you have, you yourself would takeme for a filibuster. "

Sandoval began a speech in protest, but was interrupted. 

"Rejoice, friends, rejoice! Victory!" cried a youth who entered atthat moment and began to embrace everybody. 

"Rejoice, friends! Long live the Castilian tongue!"

An outburst of applause greeted this announcement. They fell toembracing one another and their eyes filled with tears. Pecson alonepreserved his skeptical smile. 

The bearer of such good news was Makaraig, the young man at the headof the movement. This student occupied in that house, by himself, tworooms, luxuriously furnished, and had his servant and a cochero to lookafter his carriage and horses. He was of robust carriage, of refinedmanners, fastidiously dressed, and very rich. Although studying lawonly that he might have an academic degree, he enjoyed a reputation fordiligence, and as a logician in the scholastic way had no cause to envythe most frenzied quibblers of the University faculty. Neverthelesshe was not very far behind in regard to modern ideas and progress, for his fortune enabled him to have all the books and magazines that awatchful censor was unable to keep out. With these qualifications andhis reputation for courage, his fortunate associations in his earlieryears, and his refined and delicate courtesy, it was not strange thathe should exercise such great influence over his associates and thathe should have been chosen to carry out such a difficult undertakingas that of the instruction in Castilian. 

After the first outburst of enthusiasm, which in youth always takeshold in such exaggerated forms, since youth finds everything beautiful, they wanted to be informed how the affair had been managed. 

"I saw Padre Irene this morning, " said Makaraig with a certain airof mystery. 

"Hurrah for Padre Irene!" cried an enthusiastic student. 

"Padre Irene, " continued Makaraig, "has told me about everything thattook place at Los Baños. It seems that they disputed for at leasta week, he supporting and defending our case against all of them, against Padre Sibyla, Padre Fernandez, Padre Salvi, the General, the jeweler Simoun--"

"The jeweler Simoun!" interrupted one of his listeners. "What has thatJew to do with the affairs of our country? We enrich him by buying--"

"Keep quiet!" admonished another impatiently, anxious to learn howPadre Irene had been able to overcome such formidable opponents. 

"There were even high officials who were opposed to our project, the Head Secretary, the Civil Governor, Quiroga the Chinaman--"

"Quiroga the Chinaman! The pimp of the--"

"Shut up!"

"At last, " resumed Makaraig, "they were going to pigeonhole thepetition and let it sleep for months and months, when Padre Ireneremembered the Superior Commission of Primary Instruction and proposed, since the matter concerned the teaching of the Castilian tongue, that the petition be referred to that body for a report upon it. "

"But that Commission hasn't been in operation for a long time, "observed Pecson. 

"That's exactly what they replied to Padre Irene, and he answeredthat this was a good opportunity to revive it, and availing himselfof the presence of Don Custodio, one of its members, he proposed onthe spot that a committee should be appointed. Don Custodio's activitybeing known and recognized, he was named as arbiter and the petitionis now in his hands. He promised that he would settle it this month. "

"Hurrah for Don Custodio!"

"But suppose Don Custodio should report unfavorably upon it?" inquiredthe pessimist Pecson. 

Upon this they had not reckoned, being intoxicated with the thoughtthat the matter would not be pigeonholed, so they all turned toMakaraig to learn how it could be arranged. 

"The same objection I presented to Padre Irene, but with his sly smilehe said to me: 'We've won a great deal, we have succeeded in gettingthe matter on the road to a decision, the opposition sees itselfforced to join battle. ' If we can bring some influence to bear uponDon Custodio so that he, in accordance with his liberal tendencies, may report favorably, all is won, for the General showed himself tobe absolutely neutral. "

Makaraig paused, and an impatient listener asked, "How can weinfluence him?"

"Padre Irene pointed out to me two ways--"

"Quiroga, " some one suggested. 

"Pshaw, great use Quiroga--"

"A fine present. "

"No, that won't do, for he prides himself upon being incorruptible. "

"Ah, yes, I know!" exclaimed Pecson with a laugh. "Pepay the dancinggirl. "

"Ah, yes, Pepay the dancing girl, " echoed several. 

This Pepay was a showy girl, supposed to be a great friend ofDon Custodio. To her resorted the contractors, the employees, theintriguers, when they wanted to get something from the celebratedcouncilor. Juanito Pelaez, who was also a great friend of the dancinggirl, offered to look after the matter, but Isagani shook his head, saying that it was sufficient that they had made use of Padre Ireneand that it would be going too far to avail themselves of Pepay insuch an affair. 

"Show us the other way. "

"The other way is to apply to his attorney and adviser, Señor Pasta, the oracle before whom Don Custodio bows. "

"I prefer that, " said Isagani. "Señor Pasta is a Filipino, and wasa schoolmate of my uncle's. But how can we interest him?"

"There's the _quid_, " replied Makaraig, looking earnestly atIsagani. "Señor Pasta has a dancing girl--I mean, a seamstress. "

Isagani again shook his head. 

"Don't be such a puritan, " Juanito Pelaez said to him. "The endjustifies the means! I know the seamstress, Matea, for she has a shopwhere a lot of girls work. "

"No, gentlemen, " declared Isagani, "let's first employ decentmethods. I'll go to Señor Pasta and, if I don't accomplish anything, then you can do what you wish with the dancing girls and seamstresses. "

They had to accept this proposition, agreeing that Isagani shouldtalk to Señor Pasta that very day, and in the afternoon report tohis associates at the University the result of the interview. 

CHAPTER XV

SEÑOR PASTA

Isagani presented himself in the house of the lawyer, one of themost talented minds in Manila, whom the friars consulted in theirgreat difficulties. The youth had to wait some time on account of thenumerous clients, but at last his turn came and he entered the office, or _bufete_, as it is generally called in the Philippines. The lawyerreceived him with a slight cough, looking down furtively at his feet, but he did not rise or offer a seat, as he went on writing. This gaveIsagani an opportunity for observation and careful study of the lawyer, who had aged greatly. His hair was gray and his baldness extendedover nearly the whole crown of his head. His countenance was sourand austere. 

There was complete silence in the study, except for the whispers of theclerks and understudies who were at work in an adjoining room. Theirpens scratched as though quarreling with the paper. 

At length the lawyer finished what he was writing, laid down his pen, raised his head, and, recognizing the youth, let his face light upwith a smile as he extended his hand affectionately. 

"Welcome, young man! But sit down, and excuse me, for I didn't knowthat it was you. How is your uncle?"

Isagani took courage, believing that his case would get on well. Herelated briefly what had been done, the while studying the effect ofhis words. Señor Pasta listened impassively at first and, althoughhe was informed of the efforts of the students, pretended ignorance, as if to show that he had nothing to do with such childish matters, but when he began to suspect what was wanted of him and heard mentionof the Vice-Rector, friars, the Captain-General, a project, and so on, his face slowly darkened and he finally exclaimed, "This is the landof projects! But go on, go on!"

Isagani was not yet discouraged. He spoke of the manner in which adecision was to be reached and concluded with an expression of theconfidence which the young men entertained that he, Señor Pasta, would _intercede_ in their behalf in case Don Custodio should consulthim, as was to be expected. He did not dare to say would _advise_, deterred by the wry face the lawyer put on. 

But Señor Pasta had already formed his resolution, and it was notto mix at all in the affair, either as consulter or consulted. Hewas familiar with what had occurred at Los Baños, he knew that thereexisted two factions, and that Padre Irene was not the only championon the side of the students, nor had he been the one who proposedsubmitting the petition to the Commission of Primary Instruction, but quite the contrary. Padre Irene, Padre Fernandez, the Countess, a merchant who expected to sell the materials for the new academy, and the high official who had been citing royal decree after royaldecree, were about to triumph, when Padre Sibyla, wishing to gaintime, had thought of the Commission. All these facts the great lawyerhad present in his mind, so that when Isagani had finished speaking, he determined to confuse him with evasions, tangle the matter up, and lead the conversation to other subjects. 

"Yes, " he said, pursing his lips and scratching his head, "there isno one who surpasses me in love for the country and in aspirationstoward progress, but--I can't compromise myself, I don't know whetheryou clearly understand my position, a position that is very delicate, I have so many interests, I have to labor within the limits of strictprudence, it's a risk--"

The lawyer sought to bewilder the youth with an exuberance of words, so he went on speaking of laws and decrees, and talked so much thatinstead of confusing the youth, he came very near to entanglinghimself in a labyrinth of citations. 

"In no way do we wish to compromise you, " replied Isagani with greatcalmness. "God deliver us from injuring in the least the personswhose lives are so useful to the rest of the Filipinos! But, aslittle versed as I may be in the laws, royal decrees, writs, andresolutions that obtain in this country, I can't believe that therecan be any harm in furthering the high purposes of the government, in trying to secure a proper interpretation of these purposes. Weare seeking the same end and differ only about the means. "

The lawyer smiled, for the youth had allowed himself to wander awayfrom the subject, and there where the former was going to entanglehim he had already entangled himself. 

"That's exactly the _quid_, as is vulgarly said. It's clear that itis laudable to aid the government, when one aids it submissively, following out its desires and the true spirit of the laws in agreementwith the just beliefs of the governing powers, and when not incontradiction to the fundamental and general way of thinking of thepersons to whom is intrusted the common welfare of the individuals thatform a social organism. Therefore, it is criminal, it is punishable, because it is offensive to the high principle of authority, to attemptany action contrary to its initiative, even supposing it to be betterthan the governmental proposition, because such action would injureits prestige, which is the elementary basis upon which all colonialedifices rest. "

Confident that this broadside had at least stunned Isagani, the oldlawyer fell back in his armchair, outwardly very serious, but laughingto himself. 

Isagani, however, ventured to reply. "I should think that governments, the more they are threatened, would be all the more careful to seekbases that are impregnable. The basis of prestige for colonialgovernments is the weakest of all, since it does not depend uponthemselves but upon the consent of the governed, while the latterare willing to recognize it. The basis of justice or reason wouldseem to be the most durable. "

The lawyer raised his head. How was this--did that youth dare to replyand argue with him, _him_, Señor Pasta? Was he not yet bewilderedwith his big words?

"Young man, you must put those considerations aside, for they aredangerous, " he declared with a wave of his hand. "What I advise isthat you let the government attend to its own business. "

"Governments are established for the welfare of the peoples, andin order to accomplish this purpose properly they have to followthe suggestions of the citizens, who are the ones best qualified tounderstand their own needs. "

"Those who constitute the government are also citizens, and amongthe most enlightened. "

"But, being men, they are fallible, and ought not to disregard theopinions of others. "

"They must be trusted, they have to attend to everything. "

"There is a Spanish proverb which says, 'No tears, no milk, ' in otherwords, 'To him who does not ask, nothing is given. ' "

"Quite the reverse, " replied the lawyer with a sarcastic smile;"with the government exactly the reverse occurs--"

But he suddenly checked himself, as if he had said too much andwished to correct his imprudence. "The government has given us thingsthat we have not asked for, and that we could not ask for, becauseto ask--to ask, presupposes that it is in some way incompetent andconsequently is not performing its functions. To suggest to it a courseof action, to try to guide it, when not really antagonizing it, is topresuppose that it is capable of erring, and as I have already saidto you such suppositions are menaces to the existence of colonialgovernments. The common crowd overlooks this and the young men whoset to work thoughtlessly do not know, do not comprehend, do not tryto comprehend the counter-effect of asking, the menace to order thereis in that idea--"

"Pardon me, " interrupted Isagani, offended by the arguments the juristwas using with him, "but when by legal methods people ask a governmentfor something, it is because they think it good and disposed to grant ablessing, and such action, instead of irritating it, should flatter it--to the mother one appeals, never to the stepmother. The government, in my humble opinion, is not an omniscient being that can see andanticipate everything, and even if it could, it ought not to feeloffended, for here you have the church itself doing nothing but askingand begging of God, who sees and knows everything, and you yourselfask and demand many things in the courts of this same government, yet neither God nor the courts have yet taken offense. Every onerealizes that the government, being the human institution that it is, needs the support of all the people, it needs to be made to see andfeel the reality of things. You yourself are not convinced of thetruth of your objection, you yourself know that it is a tyrannicaland despotic government which, in order to make a display of forceand independence, denies everything through fear or distrust, andthat the tyrannized and enslaved peoples are the only ones whose dutyit is never to ask for anything. A people that hates its governmentought to ask for nothing but that it abdicate its power. "

The old lawyer grimaced and shook his head from side to side, in signof discontent, while he rubbed his hand over his bald pate and saidin a tone of condescending pity: "Ahem! those are bad doctrines, badtheories, ahem! How plain it is that you are young and inexperiencedin life. Look what is happening with the inexperienced young menwho in Madrid are asking for so many reforms. They are accused offilibusterism, many of them don't dare return here, and yet, whatare they asking for? Things holy, ancient, and recognized as quiteharmless. But there are matters that can't be explained, they're sodelicate. Let's see--I confess to you that there are other reasonsbesides those expressed that might lead a sensible government todeny systematically the wishes of the people--no--but it may happenthat we find ourselves under rulers so fatuous and ridiculous--butthere are always other reasons, even though what is asked be quitejust--different governments encounter different conditions--"

The old man hesitated, stared fixedly at Isagani, and then with asudden resolution made a sign with his hand as though he would dispelsome idea. 

"I can guess what you mean, " said Isagani, smiling sadly. "You meanthat a colonial government, for the very reason that it is imperfectlyconstituted and that it is based on premises--"

"No, no, not that, no!" quickly interrupted the old lawyer, as hesought for something among his papers. "No, I meant--but where aremy spectacles?"

"There they are, " replied Isagani. 

The old man put them on and pretended to look over some papers, butseeing that the youth was waiting, he mumbled, "I wanted to tell yousomething, I wanted to say--but it has slipped from my mind. Youinterrupted me in your eagerness--but it was an insignificantmatter. If you only knew what a whirl my head is in, I have so muchto do!"

Isagani understood that he was being dismissed. "So, " he said, rising, "we--"

"Ah, you will do well to leave the matter in the hands of thegovernment, which will settle it as it sees fit. You say that theVice-Rector is opposed to the teaching of Castilian. Perhaps he maybe, not as to the fact but as to the form. It is said that the Rectorwho is on his way will bring a project for reform in education. Waita while, give time a chance, apply yourself to your studies asthe examinations are near, and--_carambas!_--you who already speakCastilian and express yourself easily, what are you bothering yourselfabout? What interest have you in seeing it specially taught? SurelyPadre Florentino thinks as I do! Give him my regards. "

"My uncle, " replied Isagani, "has always admonished me to think ofothers as much as of myself. I didn't come for myself, I came in thename of those who are in worse condition. "

"What the devil! Let them do as you have done, let them singe theireyebrows studying and come to be bald like myself, stuffing wholeparagraphs into their memories! I believe that if you talk Spanish itis because you have studied it--you're not of Manila or of Spanishparents! Then let them learn it as you have, and do as I have done:I've been a servant to all the friars, I've prepared their chocolate, and while with my right hand I stirred it, with the left I held agrammar, I learned, and, thank God! have never needed other teachersor academies or permits from the government. Believe me, he who wishesto learn, learns and becomes wise!"

"But how many among those who wish to learn come to be what youare? One in ten thousand, and more!"

"Pish! Why any more?" retorted the old man, shrugging hisshoulders. "There are too many lawyers now, many of them become mereclerks. Doctors? They insult and abuse one another, and even killeach other in competition for a patient. Laborers, sir, laborers, are what we need, for agriculture!"

Isagani realized that he was losing time, but still could not forbearreplying: "Undoubtedly, there are many doctors and lawyers, but I won'tsay there are too many, since we have towns that lack them entirely, and if they do abound in quantity, perhaps they are deficient inquality. Since the young men can't be prevented from studying, andno other professions are open to us, why let them waste their timeand effort? And if the instruction, deficient as it is, does not keepmany from becoming lawyers and doctors, if we must finally have them, why not have good ones? After all, even if the sole wish is to makethe country a country of farmers and laborers, and condemn in it allintellectual activity, I don't see any evil in enlightening thosesame farmers and laborers, in giving them at least an education thatwill aid them in perfecting themselves and in perfecting their work, in placing them in a condition to understand many things of whichthey are at present ignorant. "

"Bah, bah, bah!" exclaimed the lawyer, drawing circles in the airwith his hand to dispel the ideas suggested. "To be a good farmer nogreat amount of rhetoric is needed. Dreams, illusions, fancies! Eh, will you take a piece of advice?"

He arose and placed his hand affectionately on the youth's shoulder, as he continued: "I'm going to give you one, and a very good one, because I see that you are intelligent and the advice will not bewasted. You're going to study medicine? Well, confine yourself tolearning how to put on plasters and apply leeches, and don't ever tryto improve or impair the condition of your kind. When you become alicentiate, marry a rich and devout girl, try to make cures and chargewell, shun everything that has any relation to the general state ofthe country, attend mass, confession, and communion when the rest do, and you will see afterwards how you will thank me, and I shall seeit, if I am still alive. Always remember that charity begins at home, for man ought not to seek on earth more than the greatest amount ofhappiness for himself, as Bentham says. If you involve yourself inquixotisms you will have no career, nor will you get married, norwill you ever amount to anything. All will abandon you, your owncountrymen will be the first to laugh at your simplicity. Believeme, you will remember me and see that I am right, when you have grayhairs like myself, gray hairs such as these!"

Here the old lawyer stroked his scanty white hair, as he smiled sadlyand shook his head. 

"When I have gray hairs like those, sir, " replied Isagani with equalsadness, "and turn my gaze back over my past and see that I haveworked only for myself, without having done what I plainly couldand should have done for the country that has given me everything, for the citizens that have helped me to live--then, sir, every grayhair will be a thorn, and instead of rejoicing, they will shame me!"

So saying, he took his leave with a profound bow. The lawyer remainedmotionless in his place, with an amazed look on his face. He listenedto the footfalls that gradually died away, then resumed his seat. 

"Poor boy!" he murmured, "similar thoughts also crossed my mindonce! What more could any one desire than to be able to say: 'Ihave done this for the good of the fatherland, I have consecratedmy life to the welfare of others!' A crown of laurel, steeped inaloes, dry leaves that cover thorns and worms! That is not life, that does not get us our daily bread, nor does it bring us honors--the laurel would hardly serve for a salad, nor produce ease, nor aidus in winning lawsuits, but quite the reverse! Every country has itscode of ethics, as it has its climate and its diseases, differentfrom the climate and the diseases of other countries. "

After a pause, he added: "Poor boy! If all should think and act ashe does, I don't say but that--Poor boy! Poor Florentino!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRIBULATIONS OF A CHINESE

In the evening of that same Saturday, Quiroga, the Chinese, whoaspired to the creation of a consulate for his nation, gave a dinnerin the rooms over his bazaar, located in the Escolta. His feast waswell attended: friars, government employees, soldiers, merchants, all of them his customers, partners or patrons, were to be seenthere, for his store supplied the curates and the conventos withall their necessities, he accepted the chits of all the employees, and he had servants who were discreet, prompt, and complaisant. Thefriars themselves did not disdain to pass whole hours in his store, sometimes in view of the public, sometimes in the chambers withagreeable company. 

That night, then, the sala presented a curious aspect, being filledwith friars and clerks seated on Vienna chairs, stools of black wood, and marble benches of Cantonese origin, before little square tables, playing cards or conversing among themselves, under the brilliant glareof the gilt chandeliers or the subdued light of the Chinese lanterns, which were brilliantly decorated with long silken tassels. On thewalls there was a lamentable medley of landscapes in dim and gaudycolors, painted in Canton or Hongkong, mingled with tawdry chromosof odalisks, half-nude women, effeminate lithographs of Christ, the deaths of the just and of the sinners--made by Jewish houses inGermany to be sold in the Catholic countries. Nor were there lackingthe Chinese prints on red paper representing a man seated, of venerableaspect, with a calm, smiling face, behind whom stood a servant, ugly, horrible, diabolical, threatening, armed with a lance having a wide, keen blade. Among the Indians some call this figure Mohammed, othersSantiago, [34] we do not know why, nor do the Chinese themselves givea very clear explanation of this popular pair. The pop of champagnecorks, the rattle of glasses, laughter, cigar smoke, and that odorpeculiar to a Chinese habitation--a mixture of punk, opium, and driedfruits--completed the collection. 

Dressed as a Chinese mandarin in a blue-tasseled cap, Quiroga movedfrom room to room, stiff and straight, but casting watchful glanceshere and there as though to assure himself that nothing was beingstolen. Yet in spite of this natural distrust, he exchanged handshakeswith each guest, greeted some with a smile sagacious and humble, others with a patronizing air, and still others with a certain shrewdlook that seemed to say, "I know! You didn't come on my account, you came for the dinner!"

And Quiroga was right! That fat gentleman who is now praising himand speaking of the advisability of a Chinese consulate in Manila, intimating that to manage it there could be no one but Quiroga, is theSeñor Gonzalez who hides behind the pseudonym _Pitilí_ when he attacksChinese immigration through the columns of the newspapers. Thatother, an elderly man who closely examines the lamps, pictures, and other furnishings with grimaces and ejaculations of disdain, is Don Timoteo Pelaez, Juanito's father, a merchant who inveighsagainst the Chinese competition that is ruining his business. Theone over there, that thin, brown individual with a sharp look and apale smile, is the celebrated originator of the dispute over Mexicanpesos, which so troubled one of Quiroga's protéges: that governmentclerk is regarded in Manila as very clever. That one farther on, heof the frowning look and unkempt mustache, is a government officialwho passes for a most meritorious fellow because he has the courageto speak ill of the business in lottery tickets carried on betweenQuiroga and an exalted dame in Manila society. The fact is thattwo thirds of the tickets go to China and the few that are left inManila are sold at a premium of a half-real. The honorable gentlemanentertains the conviction that some day he will draw the first prize, and is in a rage at finding himself confronted with such tricks. 

The dinner, meanwhile, was drawing to an end. From the dining-roomfloated into the sala snatches of toasts, interruptions, bursts andripples of laughter. The name of Quiroga was often heard mingled withthe words "consul, " "equality, " "justice. " The amphitryon himselfdid not eat European dishes, so he contented himself with drinkinga glass of wine with his guests from time to time, promising to dinewith those who were not seated at the first table. 

Simoun, who was present, having already dined, was in the sala talkingwith some merchants, who were complaining of business conditions:everything was going wrong, trade was paralyzed, the European exchangeswere exorbitantly high. They sought information from the jeweleror insinuated to him a few ideas, with the hope that these would becommunicated to the Captain-General. To all the remedies suggestedSimoun responded with a sarcastic and unfeeling exclamation aboutnonsense, until one of them in exasperation asked him for his opinion. 

"My opinion?" he retorted. "Study how other nations prosper, and thendo as they do. "

"And why do they prosper, Señor Simoun?"

Simoun replied with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"The port works, which weigh so heavily upon commerce, and the portnot yet completed!" sighed Don Timoteo Pelaez. "A Penelope's web, as my son says, that is spun and unspun. The taxes--"

"You complaining!" exclaimed another. "Just as the General has decreedthe destruction of houses of light materials! [35] And you with ashipment of galvanized iron!"

"Yes, " rejoined Don Timoteo, "but look what that decree cost me! Then, the destruction will not be carried out for a month, not until Lentbegins, and other shipments may arrive. I would have wished themdestroyed right away, but--Besides, what are the owners of thosehouses going to buy from me if they are all poor, all equally beggars?"

"You can always buy up their shacks for a trifle. "

"And afterwards have the decree revoked and sell them back at doublethe price--that's business!"

Simoun smiled his frigid smile. Seeing Quiroga approach, he left thequerulous merchants to greet the future consul, who on catching sightof him lost his satisfied expression and assigned a countenance likethose of the merchants, while he bent almost double. 

Quiroga respected the jeweler greatly, not only because he knew himto be very wealthy, but also on account of his rumored influencewith the Captain-General. It was reported that Simoun favoredQuiroga's ambitions, that he was an advocate for the consulate, and a certain newspaper hostile to the Chinese had alluded to himin many paraphrases, veiled allusions, and suspension points, in thecelebrated controversy with another sheet that was favorable to thequeued folk. Some prudent persons added with winks and half-utteredwords that his Black Eminence was advising the General to avail himselfof the Chinese in order to humble the tenacious pride of the natives. 

"To hold the people in subjection, " he was reported to have said, "there's nothing like humiliating them and humbling them in theirown eyes. "

To this end an opportunity had soon presented itself. The guildsof mestizos and natives were continually watching one another, venting their bellicose spirits and their activities in jealousyand distrust. At mass one day the gobernadorcillo of the natives wasseated on a bench to the right, and, being extremely thin, happenedto cross one of his legs over the other, thus adopting a nonchalantattitude, in order to expose his thighs more and display his prettyshoes. The gobernadorcillo of the guild of mestizos, who was seated onthe opposite bench, as he had bunions, and could not cross his legs onaccount of his obesity, spread his legs wide apart to expose a plainwaistcoat adorned with a beautiful gold chain set with diamonds. Thetwo cliques comprehended these maneuvers and joined battle. On thefollowing Sunday all the mestizos, even the thinnest, had largepaunches and spread their legs wide apart as though on horseback, while the natives placed one leg over the other, even the fattest, there being one cabeza de barangay who turned a somersault. Seeingthese movements, the Chinese all adopted their own peculiar attitude, that of sitting as they do in their shops, with one leg drawn backand upward, the other swinging loose. There resulted protests andpetitions, the police rushed to arms ready to start a civil war, the curates rejoiced, the Spaniards were amused and made money outof everybody, until the General settled the quarrel by ordering thatevery one should sit as the Chinese did, since they were the heaviestcontributors, even though they were not the best Catholics. Thedifficulty for the mestizos and natives then was that their trouserswere too tight to permit of their imitating the Chinese. But to makethe intention of humiliating them the more evident, the measure wascarried out with great pomp and ceremony, the church being surroundedby a troop of cavalry, while all those within were sweating. The matterwas carried to the Cortes, but it was repeated that the Chinese, asthe ones who paid, should have their way in the religious ceremonies, even though they apostatized and laughed at Christianity immediatelyafter. The natives and the mestizos had to be content, learning thusnot to waste time over such fatuity. [36]

Quiroga, with his smooth tongue and humble smile, was lavishly andflatteringly attentive to Simoun. His voice was caressing and hisbows numerous, but the jeweler cut his blandishments short by askingbrusquely:

"Did the bracelets suit her?"

At this question all Quiroga's liveliness vanished like a dream. Hiscaressing voice became plaintive; he bowed lower, gave the Chinesesalutation of raising his clasped hands to the height of his face, and groaned: "Ah, Señor Simoun! I'm lost, I'm ruined!" [37]

"How, Quiroga, lost and ruined when you have so many bottles ofchampagne and so many guests?"

Quiroga closed his eyes and made a grimace. Yes, the affair of thatafternoon, that affair of the bracelets, had ruined him. Simoun smiled, for when a Chinese merchant complains it is because all is going well, and when he makes a show that things are booming it is quite certainthat he is planning an assignment or flight to his own country. 

"You didn't know that I'm lost, I'm ruined? Ah, Señor Simoun, I'm_busted!_" To make his condition plainer, he illustrated the word bymaking a movement as though he were falling in collapse. 

Simoun wanted to laugh, but restrained himself and said that he knewnothing, nothing at all, as Quiroga led him to a room and closed thedoor. He then explained the cause of his misfortune. 

Three diamond bracelets that he had secured from Simoun on pretenseof showing them to his wife were not for her, a poor native shut up inher room like a Chinese woman, but for a beautiful and charming lady, the friend of a powerful man, whose influence was needed by him ina certain deal in which he could clear some six thousand pesos. Ashe did not understand feminine tastes and wished to be gallant, theChinese had asked for the three finest bracelets the jeweler had, eachpriced at three to four thousand pesos. With affected simplicity andhis most caressing smile, Quiroga had begged the lady to select theone she liked best, and the lady, more simple and caressing still, had declared that she liked all three, and had kept them. 

Simoun burst out into laughter. 

"Ah, sir, I'm lost, I'm ruined!" cried the Chinese, slapping himselflightly with his delicate hands; but the jeweler continued hislaughter. 

"Ugh, bad people, surely not a real lady, " went on the Chinaman, shaking his head in disgust. "What! She has no decency, while me, a Chinaman, me always polite! Ah, surely she not a real lady--a_cigarrera_ has more decency!"

"They've caught you, they've caught you!" exclaimed Simoun, pokinghim in the chest. 

"And everybody's asking for loans and never pays--what aboutthat? Clerks, officials, lieutenants, soldiers--" he checked them offon his long-nailed fingers--"ah, Señor Simoun, I'm lost, I'm _busted_!"

"Get out with your complaints, " said Simoun. "I've saved you from manyofficials that wanted money from you. I've lent it to them so thatthey wouldn't bother you, even when I knew that they couldn't pay. "

"But, Señor Simoun, you lend to officials; I lend to women, sailors, everybody. "

"I bet you get your money back. "

"Me, money back? Ah, surely you don't understand! When it's lost ingambling they never pay. Besides, you have a consul, you can forcethem, but I haven't. "

Simoun became thoughtful. "Listen, Quiroga, " he said, somewhatabstractedly, "I'll undertake to collect what the officers and sailorsowe you. Give me their notes. "

Quiroga again fell to whining: they had never given him any notes. 

"When they come to you asking for money, send them to me. I want tohelp you. "

The grateful Quiroga thanked him, but soon fell to lamenting againabout the bracelets. "A _cigarrera_ wouldn't be so shameless!" herepeated. 

"The devil!" exclaimed Simoun, looking askance at the Chinese, asthough studying him. "Exactly when I need the money and thought thatyou could pay me! But it can all be arranged, as I don't want youto fail for such a small amount. Come, a favor, and I'll reduce toseven the nine thousand pesos you owe me. You can get anything youwish through the Customs--boxes of lamps, iron, copper, glassware, Mexican pesos--you furnish arms to the conventos, don't you?"

The Chinese nodded affirmation, but remarked that he had to do a gooddeal of bribing. "I furnish the padres everything!"

"Well, then, " added Simoun in a low voice, "I need you to get in forme some boxes of rifles that arrived this evening. I want you to keepthem in your warehouse; there isn't room for all of them in my house. "

Quiroga began to show symptoms of fright. 

"Don't get scared, you don't run any risk. These rifles are to beconcealed, a few at a time, in various dwellings, then a search willbe instituted, and many people will be sent to prison. You and I canmake a haul getting them set free. Understand me?"

Quiroga wavered, for he was afraid of firearms. In his desk he hadan empty revolver that he never touched without turning his head awayand closing his eyes. 

"If you can't do it, I'll have to apply to some one else, but then I'llneed the nine thousand pesos to cross their palms and shut their eyes. "

"All right, all right!" Quiroga finally agreed. "But many people willbe arrested? There'll be a search, eh?"

When Quiroga and Simoun returned to the sala they found there, inanimated conversation, those who had finished their dinner, for thechampagne had loosened their tongues and stirred their brains. Theywere talking rather freely. 

In a group where there were a number of government clerks, some ladies, and Don Custodio, the topic was a commission sent to India to makecertain investigations about footwear for the soldiers. 

"Who compose it?" asked an elderly lady. 

"A colonel, two other officers, and his Excellency's nephew. "

"Four?" rejoined a clerk. "What a commission! Suppose theydisagree--are they competent?"

"That's what I asked, " replied a clerk. "It's said that one civilianought to go, one who has no military prejudices--a shoemaker, for instance. "

"That's right, " added an importer of shoes, "but it wouldn't doto send an Indian or a Chinaman, and the only Peninsular shoemakerdemanded such large fees--"

"But why do they have to make any investigations aboutfootwear?" inquired the elderly lady. "It isn't for the Peninsularartillerymen. The Indian soldiers can go barefoot, as they do intheir towns. " [38]

"Exactly so, and the treasury would save more, " corroborated anotherlady, a widow who was not satisfied with her pension. 

"But you must remember, " remarked another in the group, a friend ofthe officers on the commission, "that while it's true they go barefootin the towns, it's not the same as moving about under orders in theservice. They can't choose the hour, nor the road, nor rest whenthey wish. Remember, madam, that, with the noonday sun overhead andthe earth below baking like an oven, they have to march over sandystretches, where there are stones, the sun above and fire below, bullets in front--"

"It's only a question of getting used to it!"

"Like the donkey that got used to not eating! In our present campaignthe greater part of our losses have been due to wounds on the solesof the feet. Remember the donkey, madam, remember the donkey!"

"But, my dear sir, " retorted the lady, "look how much money is wastedon shoe-leather. There's enough to pension many widows and orphansin order to maintain our prestige. Don't smile, for I'm not talkingabout myself, and I have my pension, even though a very small one, insignificant considering the services my husband rendered, but I'mtalking of others who are dragging out miserable lives! It's notright that after so much persuasion to come and so many hardships incrossing the sea they should end here by dying of hunger. What you sayabout the soldiers may be true, but the fact is that I've been in thecountry more than three years, and I haven't seen any soldier limping. "

"In that I agree with the lady, " said her neighbor. "Why issue themshoes when they were born without them?"

"And why shirts?"

"And why trousers?"

"Just calculate what we should economize on soldiers clothed only intheir skins!" concluded he who was defending the army. 

In another group the conversation was more heated. Ben-Zayb wastalking and declaiming, while Padre Camorra, as usual, was constantlyinterrupting him. The friar-journalist, in spite of his respect forthe cowled gentry, was always at loggerheads with Padre Camorra, whom he regarded as a silly half-friar, thus giving himself theappearance of being independent and refuting the accusations of thosewho called him Fray Ibañez. Padre Camorra liked his adversary, as thelatter was the only person who would take seriously what he styledhis arguments. They were discussing magnetism, spiritualism, magic, and the like. Their words flew through the air like the knives andballs of jugglers, tossed back and forth from one to the other. 

That year great attention had been attracted in the Quiapo fairby a head, wrongly called a sphinx, exhibited by Mr. Leeds, anAmerican. Glaring advertisements covered the walls of the houses, mysterious and funereal, to excite the curiosity of the public. NeitherBen-Zayb nor any of the padres had yet seen it; Juanito Pelaez was theonly one who had, and he was describing his wonderment to the party. 

Ben-Zayb, as a journalist, looked for a natural explanation. PadreCamorra talked of the devil, Padre Irene smiled, Padre Salvi remainedgrave. 

"But, Padre, the devil doesn't need to come--we are sufficient todamn ourselves--"

"It can't be explained any other way. "

"If science--"

"Get out with science, _puñales_!"

"But, listen to me and I'll convince you. It's all a question ofoptics. I haven't yet seen the head nor do I know how it looks, butthis gentleman"--indicating Juanito Pelaez--"tells us that it does notlook like the talking heads that are usually exhibited. So be it! Butthe principle is the same--it's all a question of optics. Wait! Amirror is placed thus, another mirror behind it, the image isreflected--I say, it is purely a problem in physics. "

Taking down from the walls several mirrors, he arranged them, turnedthem round and round, but, not getting the desired result, concluded:"As I say, it's nothing more or less than a question of optics. "

"But what do you want mirrors for, if Juanito tells us that the head isinside a box placed on the table? I see in it spiritualism, because thespiritualists always make use of tables, and I think that Padre Salvi, as the ecclesiastical governor, ought to prohibit the exhibition. "

Padre Salvi remained silent, saying neither yes nor no. 

"In order to learn if there are devils or mirrors inside it, "suggested Simoun, "the best thing would be for you to go and see thefamous sphinx. "

The proposal was a good one, so it was accepted, although PadreSalvi and Don Custodio showed some repugnance. They at a fair, to rubshoulders with the public, to see sphinxes and talking heads! Whatwould the natives say? These might take them for mere men, endowedwith the same passions and weaknesses as others. But Ben-Zayb, withhis journalistic ingenuity, promised to request Mr. Leeds not toadmit the public while they were inside. They would be honoring himsufficiently by the visit not to admit of his refusal, and besideshe would not charge any admission fee. To give a show of probabilityto this, he concluded: "Because, remember, if I should expose thetrick of the mirrors to the public, it would ruin the poor American'sbusiness. " Ben-Zayb was a conscientious individual. 

About a dozen set out, among them our acquaintances, Padres Salvi, Camorra, and Irene, Don Custodio, Ben-Zayb, and Juanito Pelaez. Theircarriages set them down at the entrance to the Quiapo Plaza. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE QUIAPO FAIR

It was a beautiful night and the plaza presented a most animatedaspect. Taking advantage of the freshness of the breeze and thesplendor of the January moon, the people filled the fair to see, beseen, and amuse themselves. The music of the cosmoramas and the lightsof the lanterns gave life and merriment to every one. Long rows ofbooths, brilliant with tinsel and gauds, exposed to view clusters ofballs, masks strung by the eyes, tin toys, trains, carts, mechanicalhorses, carriages, steam-engines with diminutive boilers, Lilliputiantableware of porcelain, pine Nativities, dolls both foreign anddomestic, the former red and smiling, the latter sad and pensive likelittle ladies beside gigantic children. The beating of drums, the roarof tin horns, the wheezy music of the accordions and the hand-organs, all mingled in a carnival concert, amid the coming and going of thecrowd, pushing, stumbling over one another, with their faces turnedtoward the booths, so that the collisions were frequent and oftenamusing. The carriages were forced to move slowly, with the _tabí_ ofthe cocheros repeated every moment. Met and mingled government clerks, soldiers, friars, students, Chinese, girls with their mammas or aunts, all greeting, signaling, calling to one another merrily. 

Padre Camorra was in the seventh heaven at the sight of so many prettygirls. He stopped, looked back, nudged Ben-Zayb, chuckled and swore, saying, "And that one, and that one, my ink-slinger? And that oneover there, what say you?" In his contentment he even fell to usingthe familiar _tu_ toward his friend and adversary. Padre Salvi staredat him from time to time, but he took little note of Padre Salvi. Onthe contrary, he pretended to stumble so that he might brush againstthe girls, he winked and made eyes at them. 

"_Puñales!_" he kept saying to himself. "When shall I be the curateof Quiapo?"

Suddenly Ben-Zayb let go an oath, jumped aside, and slapped his handon his arm; Padre Camorra in his excess of enthusiasm had pinchedhim. They were approaching a dazzling señorita who was attracting theattention of the whole plaza, and Padre Camorra, unable to restrainhis delight, had taken Ben-Zayb's arm as a substitute for the girl's. 

It was Paulita Gomez, the prettiest of the pretty, in company withIsagani, followed by Doña Victorina. The young woman was resplendentin her beauty: all stopped and craned their necks, while they ceasedtheir conversation and followed her with their eyes--even DoñaVictorina was respectfully saluted. 

Paulita was arrayed in a rich camisa and pañuelo of embroidered piña, different from those she had worn that morning to the church. Thegauzy texture of the piña set off her shapely head, and the Indianswho saw her compared her to the moon surrounded by fleecy clouds. Asilk rose-colored skirt, caught up in rich and graceful folds by herlittle hand, gave majesty to her erect figure, the movement of which, harmonizing with her curving neck, displayed all the triumphs of vanityand satisfied coquetry. Isagani appeared to be rather disgusted, for so many curious eyes fixed upon the beauty of his sweetheartannoyed him. The stares seemed to him robbery and the girl's smilesfaithlessness. 

Juanito saw her and his hump increased when he spoke to her. Paulitareplied negligently, while Doña Victorina called to him, for Juanitowas her favorite, she preferring him to Isagani. 

"What a girl, what a girl!" muttered the entranced Padre Camorra. 

"Come, Padre, pinch yourself and let me alone, " said Ben-Zaybfretfully. 

"What a girl, what a girl!" repeated the friar. "And she has for asweetheart a pupil of mine, the boy I had the quarrel with. "

"Just my luck that she's not of my town, " he added, after turninghis head several times to follow her with his looks. He was eventempted to leave his companions to follow the girl, and Ben-Zayb haddifficulty in dissuading him. Paulita's beautiful figure moved on, her graceful little head nodding with inborn coquetry. 

Our promenaders kept on their way, not without sighs on the partof the friar-artilleryman, until they reached a booth surrounded bysightseers, who quickly made way for them. It was a shop of littlewooden figures, of local manufacture, representing in all shapes andsizes the costumes, races, and occupations of the country: Indians, Spaniards, Chinese, mestizos, friars, clergymen, government clerks, gobernadorcillos, students, soldiers, and so on. 

Whether the artists had more affection for the priests, the foldsof whose habits were better suited to their esthetic purposes, orwhether the friars, holding such an important place in Philippine life, engaged the attention of the sculptor more, the fact was that, for onecause or another, images of them abounded, well-turned and finished, representing them in the sublimest moments of their lives--the oppositeof what is done in Europe, where they are pictured as sleeping oncasks of wine, playing cards, emptying tankards, rousing themselvesto gaiety, or patting the cheeks of a buxom girl. No, the friarsof the Philippines were different: elegant, handsome, well-dressed, their tonsures neatly shaven, their features symmetrical and serene, their gaze meditative, their expression saintly, somewhat rosy-cheeked, cane in hand and patent-leather shoes on their feet, inviting adorationand a place in a glass case. Instead of the symbols of gluttony andincontinence of their brethren in Europe, those of Manila carried thebook, the crucifix, and the palm of martyrdom; instead of kissing thesimple country lasses, those of Manila gravely extended the hand tobe kissed by children and grown men doubled over almost to kneeling;instead of the full refectory and dining-hall, their stage in Europe, in Manila they had the oratory, the study-table; instead of themendicant friar who goes from door to door with his donkey and sack, begging alms, the friars of the Philippines scattered gold from fullhands among the miserable Indians. 

"Look, here's Padre Camorra!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb, upon whom the effectof the champagne still lingered. He pointed to a picture of a leanfriar of thoughtful mien who was seated at a table with his headresting on the palm of his hand, apparently writing a sermon by thelight of a lamp. The contrast suggested drew laughter from the crowd. 

Padre Camorra, who had already forgotten about Paulita, saw what wasmeant and laughing his clownish laugh, asked in turn, "Whom does thisother figure resemble, Ben-Zayb?"

It was an old woman with one eye, with disheveled hair, seated onthe ground like an Indian idol, ironing clothes. The sad-iron wascarefully imitated, being of copper with coals of red tinsel andsmoke-wreaths of dirty twisted cotton. 

"Eh, Ben-Zayb, it wasn't a fool who designed that" asked Padre Camorrawith a laugh. 

"Well, I don't see the point, " replied the journalist. 

"But, _puñales_, don't you see the title, _The Philippine Press_? Thatutensil with which the old woman is ironing is here called the press!"

All laughed at this, Ben-Zayb himself joining in good-naturedly. 

Two soldiers of the Civil Guard, appropriately labeled, were placedbehind a man who was tightly bound and had his face covered by hishat. It was entitled _The Country of Abaka_, [39] and from appearancesthey were going to shoot him. 

Many of our visitors were displeased with the exhibition. They talkedof rules of art, they sought proportion--one said that this figure didnot have seven heads, that the face lacked a nose, having only three, all of which made Padre Camorra somewhat thoughtful, for he did notcomprehend how a figure, to be correct, need have four noses andseven heads. Others said, if they were muscular, that they could notbe Indians; still others remarked that it was not sculpture, but merecarpentry. Each added his spoonful of criticism, until Padre Camorra, not to be outdone, ventured to ask for at least thirty legs for eachdoll, because, if the others wanted noses, couldn't he require feet? Sothey fell to discussing whether the Indian had or had not any aptitudefor sculpture, and whether it would be advisable to encourage thatart, until there arose a general dispute, which was cut short by DonCustodio's declaration that the Indians had the aptitude, but thatthey should devote themselves exclusively to the manufacture of saints. 

"One would say, " observed Ben-Zayb, who was full of bright ideasthat night, "that this Chinaman is Quiroga, but on close examinationit looks like Padre Irene. And what do you say about that BritishIndian? He looks like Simoun!"

Fresh peals of laughter resounded, while Padre Irene rubbed his nose. 

"That's right!"

"It's the very image of him!"

"But where is Simoun? Simoun should buy it. "

But the jeweler had disappeared, unnoticed by any one. 

"_Puñales!_" exclaimed Padre Camorra, "how stingy the Americanis! He's afraid we would make him pay the admission for all of usinto Mr. Leeds' show. "

"No!" rejoined Ben-Zayb, "what he's afraid of is that he'll compromisehimself. He may have foreseen the joke in store for his friendMr. Leeds and has got out of the way. "

Thus, without purchasing the least trifle, they continued on theirway to see the famous sphinx. Ben-Zayb offered to manage the affair, for the American would not rebuff a journalist who could take revengein an unfavorable article. "You'll see that it's all a questionof mirrors, " he said, "because, you see--" Again he plunged into along demonstration, and as he had no mirrors at hand to discredithis theory he tangled himself up in all kinds of blunders and woundup by not knowing himself what he was saying. "In short, you'll seehow it's all a question of optics. "

CHAPTER XVIII

LEGERDEMAIN

Mr. Leeds, a genuine Yankee, dressed completely in black, received hisvisitors with great deference. He spoke Spanish well, from having beenfor many years in South America, and offered no objection to theirrequest, saying that they might examine everything, both before andafter the exhibition, but begged that they remain quiet while it wasin progress. Ben-Zayb smiled in pleasant anticipation of the vexationhe had prepared for the American. 

The room, hung entirely in black, was lighted by ancient lamps burningalcohol. A rail wrapped in black velvet divided it into two almostequal parts, one of which was filled with seats for the spectators andthe other occupied by a platform covered with a checkered carpet. Inthe center of this platform was placed a table, over which was spreada piece of black cloth adorned with skulls and cabalistic signs. The_mise en scène_ was therefore lugubrious and had its effect uponthe merry visitors. The jokes died away, they spoke in whispers, and however much some tried to appear indifferent, their lips framedno smiles. All felt as if they had entered a house where there was acorpse, an illusion accentuated by an odor of wax and incense. DonCustodio and Padre Salvi consulted in whispers over the expediencyof prohibiting such shows. 

Ben-Zayb, in order to cheer the dispirited group and embarrassMr. Leeds, said to him in a familiar tone: "Eh, Mister, since thereare none but ourselves here and we aren't Indians who can be fooled, won't you let us see the trick? We know of course that it's purelya question of optics, but as Padre Camorra won't be convinced--"

Here he started to jump over the rail, instead of going through theproper opening, while Padre Camorra broke out into protests, fearingthat Ben-Zayb might be right. 

"And why not, sir?" rejoined the American. "But don't break anything, will you?"

The journalist was already on the platform. "You will allow me, then?" he asked, and without waiting for the permission, fearing thatit might not be granted, raised the cloth to look for the mirrorsthat he expected should be between the legs of the table. Ben-Zaybuttered an exclamation and stepped back, again placed both hands underthe table and waved them about; he encountered only empty space. Thetable had three thin iron legs, sunk into the floor. 

The journalist looked all about as though seeking something. 

"Where are the mirrors?" asked Padre Camorra. 

Ben-Zayb looked and looked, felt the table with his fingers, raisedthe cloth again, and rubbed his hand over his forehead from time totime, as if trying to remember something. 

"Have you lost anything?" inquired Mr. Leeds. 

"The mirrors, Mister, where are the mirrors?"

"I don't know where yours are--mine are at the hotel. Do you want tolook at yourself? You're somewhat pale and excited. "

Many laughed, in spite of their weird impressions, on seeing thejesting coolness of the American, while Ben-Zayb retired, quiteabashed, to his seat, muttering, "It can't be. You'll see that hedoesn't do it without mirrors. The table will have to be changedlater. "

Mr. Leeds placed the cloth on the table again and turning toward hisillustrious audience, asked them, "Are you satisfied? May we begin?"

"Hurry up! How cold-blooded he is!" said the widow. 

"Then, ladies and gentlemen, take your seats and get your questionsready. "

Mr. Leeds disappeared through a doorway and in a few moments returnedwith a black box of worm-eaten wood, covered with inscriptions inthe form of birds, beasts, and human heads. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he began solemnly, "once having had occasionto visit the great pyramid of Khufu, a Pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, I chanced upon a sarcophagus of red granite in a forgotten chamber. Myjoy was great, for I thought that I had found a royal mummy, but whatwas my disappointment on opening the coffin, at the cost of infinitelabor, to find nothing more than this box, which you may examine. "

He handed the box to those in the front row. Padre Camorra drew back inloathing, Padre Salvi looked at it closely as if he enjoyed sepulchralthings, Padre Irene smiled a knowing smile, Don Custodio affectedgravity and disdain, while Ben-Zayb hunted for his mirrors--therethey must be, for it was a question of mirrors. 

"It smells like a corpse, " observed one lady, fanning herselffuriously. "Ugh!"

"It smells of forty centuries, " remarked some one with emphasis. 

Ben-Zayb forgot about his mirrors to discover who had made thisremark. It was a military official who had read the history ofNapoleon. 

Ben-Zayb felt jealous and to utter another epigram that might annoyPadre Camorra a little said, "It smells of the Church. "

"This box, ladies and gentlemen, " continued the American, "containeda handful of ashes and a piece of papyrus on which were writtensome words. Examine them yourselves, but I beg of you not to breatheheavily, because if any of the dust is lost my sphinx will appear ina mutilated condition. "

The humbug, described with such seriousness and conviction, wasgradually having its effect, so much so that when the box was passedaround, no one dared to breathe. Padre Camorra, who had so oftendepicted from the pulpit of Tiani the torments and sufferings of hell, while he laughed in his sleeves at the terrified looks of the sinners, held his nose, and Padre Salvi--the same Padre Salvi who had on AllSouls' Day prepared a phantasmagoria of the souls in purgatory withflames and transparencies illuminated with alcohol lamps and coveredwith tinsel, on the high altar of the church in a suburb, in orderto get alms and orders for masses--the lean and taciturn Padre Salviheld his breath and gazed suspiciously at that handful of ashes. 

"_Memento, homo, quia pulvis es_!" muttered Padre Irene with a smile. 

"Pish!" sneered Ben-Zayb--the same thought had occurred to him, and the Canon had taken the words out of his mouth. 

"Not knowing what to do, " resumed Mr. Leeds, closing the box carefully, "I examined the papyrus and discovered two words whose meaningwas unknown to me. I deciphered them, and tried to pronounce themaloud. Scarcely had I uttered the first word when I felt the boxslipping from my hands, as if pressed down by an enormous weight, and it glided along the floor, whence I vainly endeavored to removeit. But my surprise was converted into terror when it opened and Ifound within a human head that stared at me fixedly. Paralyzed withfright and uncertain what to do in the presence of such a phenomenon, I remained for a time stupefied, trembling like a person poisonedwith mercury, but after a while recovered myself and, thinking thatit was a vain illusion, tried to divert my attention by readingthe second word. Hardly had I pronounced it when the box closed, the head disappeared, and in its place I again found the handful ofashes. Without suspecting it I had discovered the two most potentwords in nature, the words of creation and destruction, of life andof death!"

He paused for a few moments to note the effect of his story, thenwith grave and measured steps approached the table and placed themysterious box upon it. 

"The cloth, Mister!" exclaimed the incorrigible Ben-Zayb. 

"Why not?" rejoined Mr. Leeds, very complaisantly. 

Lifting the box with his right hand, he caught up the cloth with hisleft, completely exposing the table sustained by its three legs. Againhe placed the box upon the center and with great gravity turned tohis audience. 

"Here's what I want to see, " said Ben-Zayb to his neighbor. "Younotice how he makes some excuse. "

Great attention was depicted on all countenances and silencereigned. The noise and roar of the street could be distinctly heard, but all were so affected that a snatch of dialogue which reached themproduced no effect. 

"Why can't we go in?" asked a woman's voice. 

"_Abá_, there's a lot of friars and clerks in there, " answered aman. "The sphinx is for them only. "

"The friars are inquisitive too, " said the woman's voice, drawingaway. "They don't want us to know how they're being fooled. Why, is the head a friar's _querida_?"

In the midst of a profound silence the American announced in a toneof emotion: "Ladies and gentlemen, with a word I am now going toreanimate the handful of ashes, and you will talk with a being thatknows the past, the present, and much of the future!"

Here the prestidigitator uttered a soft cry, first mournful, thenlively, a medley of sharp sounds like imprecations and hoarse noteslike threats, which made Ben-Zayb's hair stand on end. 

"_Deremof_!" cried the American. 

The curtains on the wall rustled, the lamps burned low, the tablecreaked. A feeble groan responded from the interior of the box. Paleand uneasy, all stared at one another, while one terrified señoracaught hold of Padre Salvi. 

The box then opened of its own accord and presented to the eyes ofthe audience a head of cadaverous aspect, surrounded by long andabundant black hair. It slowly opened its eyes and looked aroundthe whole audience. Those eyes had a vivid radiance, accentuated bytheir cavernous sockets, and, as if deep were calling unto deep, fixed themselves upon the profound, sunken eyes of the tremblingPadre Salvi, who was staring unnaturally, as though he saw a ghost. 

"Sphinx, " commanded Mr. Leeds, "tell the audience who you are. "

A deep silence prevailed, while a chill wind blew through the roomand made the blue flames of the sepulchral lamps flicker. The mostskeptical shivered. 

"I am Imuthis, " declared the head in a funereal, but strangelymenacing, voice. "I was born in the time of Amasis and died under thePersian domination, when Cambyses was returning from his disastrousexpedition into the interior of Libya. I had come to complete myeducation after extensive travels through Greece, Assyria, and Persia, and had returned to my native laud to dwell in it until Thoth shouldcall me before his terrible tribunal. But to my undoing, on passingthrough Babylonia, I discovered an awful secret--the secret of thefalse Smerdis who usurped the throne, the bold Magian Gaumata whogoverned as an impostor. Fearing that I would betray him to Cambyses, he determined upon my ruin through the instrumentality of the Egyptianpriests, who at that time ruled my native country. They were theowners of two-thirds of the land, the monopolizers of learning, theyheld the people down in ignorance and tyranny, they brutalized them, thus making them fit to pass without resistance from one dominationto another. The invaders availed themselves of them, and knowing theirusefulness, protected and enriched them. The rulers not only dependedon their will, but some were reduced to mere instruments of theirs. TheEgyptian priests hastened to execute Gaumata's orders, with greaterzeal from their fear of me, because they were afraid that I wouldreveal their impostures to the people. To accomplish their purpose, they made use of a young priest of Abydos, who passed for a saint. "

A painful silence followed these words. That head was talkingof priestly intrigues and impostures, and although referring toanother age and other creeds, all the friars present were annoyed, possibly because they could see in the general trend of the speechsome analogy to the existing situation. Padre Salvi was in the gripof convulsive shivering; he worked his lips and with bulging eyesfollowed the gaze of the head as though fascinated. Beads of sweatbegan to break out on his emaciated face, but no one noticed this, so deeply absorbed and affected were they. 

"What was the plot concocted by the priests of your country againstyou?" asked Mr. Leeds. 

The head uttered a sorrowful groan, which seemed to come from thebottom of the heart, and the spectators saw its eyes, those fieryeyes, clouded and filled with tears. Many shuddered and felt theirhair rise. No, that was not an illusion, it was not a trick: the headwas the victim and what it told was its own story. 

"Ay!" it moaned, shaking with affliction, "I loved a maiden, the daughter of a priest, pure as light, like the freshly openedlotus! The young priest of Abydos also desired her and planned arebellion, using my name and some papyri that he had secured frommy beloved. The rebellion broke out at the time when Cambyses wasreturning in rage over the disasters of his unfortunate campaign. I wasaccused of being a rebel, was made a prisoner, and having effected myescape was killed in the chase on Lake Moeris. From out of eternityI saw the imposture triumph. I saw the priest of Abydos night andday persecuting the maiden, who had taken refuge in a temple of Isison the island of Philae. I saw him persecute and harass her, evenin the subterranean chambers, I saw him drive her mad with terrorand suffering, like a huge bat pursuing a white dove. Ah, priest, priest of Abydos, I have returned to life to expose your infamy, andafter so many years of silence, I name thee murderer, hypocrite, liar!"

A dry, hollow laugh accompanied these words, while a choked voiceresponded, "No! Mercy!"

It was Padre Salvi, who had been overcome with terror and with armsextended was slipping in collapse to the floor. 

"What's the matter with your Reverence? Are you ill?" asked PadreIrene. 

"The heat of the room--"

"This odor of corpses we're breathing here--"

"Murderer, slanderer, hypocrite!" repeated the head. "I accuseyou--murderer, murderer, murderer!"

Again the dry laugh, sepulchral and menacing, resounded, as thoughthat head were so absorbed in contemplation of its wrongs that itdid not see the tumult that prevailed in the room. 

"Mercy! She still lives!" groaned Padre Salvi, and then lostconsciousness. He was as pallid as a corpse. Some of the ladiesthought it their duty to faint also, and proceeded to do so. 

"He is out of his head! Padre Salvi!"

"I told him not to eat that bird's-nest soup, " said Padre Irene. "Ithas made him sick. "

"But he didn't eat anything, " rejoined Don Custodio shivering. "Asthe head has been staring at him fixedly, it has mesmerized him. "

So disorder prevailed, the room seemed to be a hospital or abattlefield. Padre Salvi looked like a corpse, and the ladies, seeing that no one was paying them any attention, made the best ofit by recovering. 

Meanwhile, the head had been reduced to ashes, and Mr. Leeds, havingreplaced the cloth on the table, bowed his audience out. 

"This show must be prohibited, " said Don Custodio on leaving. "It'swicked and highly immoral. "

"And above all, because it doesn't use mirrors, " added Ben-Zayb, who before going out of the room tried to assure himself finally, so he leaped over the rail, went up to the table, and raised thecloth: nothing, absolutely nothing! [40] On the following day hewrote an article in which he spoke of occult sciences, spiritualism, and the like. 

An order came immediately from the ecclesiastical governor prohibitingthe show, but Mr. Leeds had already disappeared, carrying his secretwith him to Hongkong. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE FUSE

Placido Penitente left the class with his heart overflowing withbitterness and sullen gloom in his looks. He was worthy of his namewhen not driven from his usual course, but once irritated he was averitable torrent, a wild beast that could only be stopped by thedeath of himself or his foe. So many affronts, so many pinpricks, day after day, had made his heart quiver, lodging in it to sleep thesleep of lethargic vipers, and they now were awaking to shake andhiss with fury. The hisses resounded in his ears with the jestingepithets of the professor, the phrases in the slang of the markets, and he seemed to hear blows and laughter. A thousand schemes forrevenge rushed into his brain, crowding one another, only to fadeimmediately like phantoms in a dream. His vanity cried out to himwith desperate tenacity that he must do something. 

"Placido Penitente, " said the voice, "show these youths that youhave dignity, that you are the son of a valiant and noble province, where wrongs are washed out with blood. You're a Batangan, PlacidoPenitente! Avenge yourself, Placido Penitente!"

The youth groaned and gnashed his teeth, stumbling against everyone in the street and on the Bridge of Spain, as if he were seekinga quarrel. In the latter place he saw a carriage in which was theVice-Rector, Padre Sibyla, accompanied by Don Custodio, and he hada great mind to seize the friar and throw him into the river. 

He proceeded along the Escolta and was tempted to assault twoAugustinians who were seated in the doorway of Quiroga's bazaar, laughing and joking with other friars who must have been inside injoyous conversation, for their merry voices and sonorous laughtercould be heard. Somewhat farther on, two cadets blocked up thesidewalk, talking with the clerk of a warehouse, who was in hisshirtsleeves. Penitents moved toward them to force a passage andthey, perceiving his dark intention, good-humoredly made way forhim. Placido was by this time under the influence of the _amok_, as the Malayists say. 

As he approached his home--the house of a silversmith where he lived asa boarder--he tried to collect his thoughts and make a plan--to returnto his town and avenge himself by showing the friars that they couldnot with impunity insult a youth or make a joke of him. He decided towrite a letter immediately to his mother, Cabesang Andang, to informher of what had happened and to tell her that the schoolroom had closedforever for him. Although there was the Ateneo of the Jesuits, where hemight study that year, yet it was not very likely that the Dominicanswould grant him the transfer, and, even though he should secure it, in the following year he would have to return to the University. 

"They say that we don't know how to avenge ourselves!" hemuttered. "Let the lightning strike and we'll see!"

But Placido was not reckoning upon what awaited him in the houseof the silversmith. Cabesang Andang had just arrived from Batangas, having come to do some shopping, to visit her son, and to bring himmoney, jerked venison, and silk handkerchiefs. 

The first greetings over, the poor woman, who had at once noticed herson's gloomy look, could no longer restrain her curiosity and beganto ask questions. His first explanations Cabesang Andang regarded assome subterfuge, so she smiled and soothed her son, reminding him oftheir sacrifices and privations. She spoke of Capitana Simona's son, who, having entered the seminary, now carried himself in the town likea bishop, and Capitana Simona already considered herself a Mother ofGod, clearly so, for her son was going to be another Christ. 

"If the son becomes a priest, " said she, "the mother won't have topay us what she owes us. Who will collect from her then?"

But on seeing that Placido was speaking seriously and reading in hiseyes the storm that raged within him, she realized that what he wastelling her was unfortunately the strict truth. She remained silentfor a while and then broke out into lamentations. 

"Ay!" she exclaimed. "I promised your father that I would care foryou, educate you, and make a lawyer of you! I've deprived myself ofeverything so that you might go to school! Instead of joining the_panguingui_ where the stake is a half peso, I Ve gone only where it'sa half real, enduring the bad smells and the dirty cards. Look at mypatched camisa; for instead of buying new ones I've spent the money inmasses and presents to St. Sebastian, even though I don't have greatconfidence in his power, because the curate recites the masses fastand hurriedly, he's an entirely new saint and doesn't yet know howto perform miracles, and isn't made of _batikulin_ but of _lanete. _Ay, what will your father say to me when I die and see him again!"

So the poor woman lamented and wept, while Placido became gloomierand let stifled sighs escape from his breast. 

"What would I get out of being a lawyer?" was his response. 

"What will become of you?" asked his mother, clasping herhands. "They'll call you a filibuster and garrote you. I've told youthat you must have patience, that you must be humble. I don't tellyou that you must kiss the hands of the curates, for I know thatyou have a delicate sense of smell, like your father, who couldn'tendure European cheese. [41] But we have to suffer, to be silent, to say yes to everything. What are we going to do? The friars owneverything, and if they are unwilling, no one will become a lawyeror a doctor. Have patience, my son, have patience!"

"But I've had a great deal, mother, I've suffered for months andmonths. "

Cabesang Andang then resumed her lamentations. She did not ask that hedeclare himself a partizan of the friars, she was not one herself--itwas enough to know that for one good friar there were ten bad, whotook the money from the poor and deported the rich. But one must besilent, suffer, and endure--there was no other course. She cited thisman and that one, who by being _patient_ and humble, even though inthe bottom of his heart he hated his masters, had risen from servantof the friars to high office; and such another who was rich andcould commit abuses, secure of having patrons who would protect himfrom the law, yet who had been nothing more than a poor sacristan, humble and obedient, and who had married a pretty girl whose son hadthe curate for a godfather. So Cabesang Andang continued her litanyof humble and _patient_ Filipinos, as she called them, and was aboutto cite others who by not being so had found themselves persecutedand exiled, when Placido on some trifling pretext left the house towander about the streets. 

He passed through Sibakong, [42] Tondo, San Nicolas, and Santo Cristo, absorbed in his ill-humor, without taking note of the sun or the hour, and only when he began to feel hungry and discovered that he had nomoney, having given it all for celebrations and contributions, didhe return to the house. He had expected that he would not meet hismother there, as she was in the habit, when in Manila, of going outat that hour to a neighboring house where _panguingui_ was played, but Cabesang Andang was waiting to propose her plan. She would availherself of the procurator of the Augustinians to restore her son tothe good graces of the Dominicans. 

Placido stopped her with a gesture. "I'll throw myself into the seafirst, " he declared. "I'll become a tulisan before I'll go back tothe University. "

Again his mother began her preachment about patience and humility, so he went away again without having eaten anything, directing hissteps toward the quay where the steamers tied up. The sight of asteamer weighing anchor for Hongkong inspired him with an idea--to goto Hongkong, to run away, get rich there, and make war on the friars. 

The thought of Hongkong awoke in his mind the recollection ofa story about frontals, cirials, and candelabra of pure silver, which the piety of the faithful had led them to present to a certainchurch. The friars, so the silversmith told, had sent to Hongkong tohave duplicate frontals, cirials, and candelabra made of German silver, which they substituted for the genuine ones, these being melted downand coined into Mexican pesos. Such was the story he had heard, andthough it was no more than a rumor or a story, his resentment gave itthe color of truth and reminded him of other tricks of theirs in thatsame style. The desire to live free, and certain half-formed plans, led him to decide upon Hongkong. If the corporations sent all theirmoney there, commerce must be flourishing and he could enrich himself. 

"I want to be free, to live free!"

Night surprised him wandering along San Fernando, but not meeting anysailor he knew, he decided to return home. As the night was beautiful, with a brilliant moon transforming the squalid city into a fantasticfairy kingdom, he went to the fair. There he wandered back and forth, passing booths without taking any notice of the articles in them, everwith the thought of Hongkong, of living free, of enriching himself. 

He was about to leave the fair when he thought he recognized thejeweler Simoun bidding good-by to a foreigner, both of them speakingin English. To Placido every language spoken in the Philippinesby Europeans, when not Spanish, had to be English, and besides, hecaught the name Hongkong. If only the jeweler would recommend him tothat foreigner, who must be setting out for Hongkong!

Placido paused. He was acquainted with the jeweler, as the latter hadbeen in his town peddling his wares, and he had accompanied him onone of his trips, when Simoun had made himself very amiable indeed, telling him of the life in the universities of the free countries--whata difference!

So he followed the jeweler. "Señor Simoun, Señor Simoun!" he called. 

The jeweler was at that moment entering his carriage. RecognizingPlacido, he checked himself. 

"I want to ask a favor of you, to say a few words to you. "

Simoun made a sign of impatience which Placido in his perturbationdid not observe. In a few words the youth related what had happenedand made known his desire to go to Hongkong. 

"Why?" asked Simoun, staring fixedly at Placido through his bluegoggles. 

Placido did not answer, so Simoun threw back his head, smiled his cold, silent smile and said, "All right! Come with me. To Calle Iris!" hedirected the cochero. 

Simoun remained silent throughout the whole drive, apparently absorbedin meditation of a very important nature. Placido kept quiet, waitingfor him to speak first, and entertained himself in watching thepromenaders who were enjoying the clear moonlight: pairs of infatuatedlovers, followed by watchful mammas or aunts; groups of studentsin white clothes that the moonlight made whiter still; half-drunkensoldiers in a carriage, six together, on their way to visit some nipatemple dedicated to Cytherea; children playing their games and Chineseselling sugar-cane. All these filled the streets, taking on in thebrilliant moonlight fantastic forms and ideal outlines. In one housean orchestra was playing waltzes, and couples might be seen dancingunder the bright lamps and chandeliers--what a sordid spectacle theypresented in comparison with the sight the streets afforded! Thinkingof Hongkong, he asked himself if the moonlit nights in that islandwere so poetical and sweetly melancholy as those of the Philippines, and a deep sadness settled down over his heart. 

Simoun ordered the carriage to stop and both alighted, just at themoment when Isagani and Paulita Gomez passed them murmuring sweetinanities. Behind them came Doña Victorina with Juanito Pelaez, whowas talking in a loud voice, busily gesticulating, and appearing tohave a larger hump than ever. In his preoccupation Pelaez did notnotice his former schoolmate. 

"There's a fellow who's happy!" muttered Placido with a sigh, as he gazed toward the group, which became converted into vaporoussilhouettes, with Juanito's arms plainly visible, rising and fallinglike the arms of a windmill. 

"That's all he's good for, " observed Simoun. "It's fine to be young!"

To whom did Placido and Simoun each allude?

The jeweler made a sign to the young man, and they left the streetto pick their way through a labyrinth of paths and passageways amongvarious houses, at times leaping upon stones to avoid the mudholesor stepping aside from the sidewalks that were badly constructed andstill more badly tended. Placido was surprised to see the rich jewelermove through such places as if he were familiar with them. They atlength reached an open lot where a wretched hut stood off by itselfsurrounded by banana-plants and areca-palms. Some bamboo frames andsections of the same material led Placido to suspect that they wereapproaching the house of a pyrotechnist. 

Simoun rapped on the window and a man's face appeared. 

"Ah, sir!" he exclaimed, and immediately came outside. 

"Is the powder here?" asked Simoun. 

"In sacks. I'm waiting for the shells. "

"And the bombs?"

"Are all ready. "

"All right, then. This very night you must go and inform the lieutenantand the corporal. Then keep on your way, and in Lamayan you will find aman in a banka. You will say _Cabesa_ and he will answer _Tales_. It'snecessary that he be here tomorrow. There's no time to be lost. "

Saying this, he gave him some gold coins. 

"How's this, sir?" the man inquired in very good Spanish. "Is thereany news?"

"Yes, it'll be done within the coming week. "

"The coming week!" exclaimed the unknown, stepping backward. "Thesuburbs are not yet ready, they hope that the General will withdrawthe decree. I thought it was postponed until the beginning of Lent. "

Simoun shook his head. "We won't need the suburbs, " he said. "WithCabesang Tales' people, the ex-carbineers, and a regiment, we'll haveenough. Later, Maria Clara may be dead. Start at once!"

The man disappeared. Placido, who had stood by and heard all of thisbrief interview, felt his hair rise and stared with startled eyes atSimoun, who smiled. 

"You're surprised, " he said with his icy smile, "that this Indian, so poorly dressed, speaks Spanish well? He was a schoolmaster whopersisted in teaching Spanish to the children and did not stop untilhe had lost his position and had been deported as a disturber ofthe public peace, and for having been a friend of the unfortunateIbarra. I got him back from his deportation, where he had been workingas a pruner of coconut-palms, and have made him a pyrotechnist. "

They returned to the street and set out for Trozo. Before a woodenhouse of pleasant and well-kept appearance was a Spaniard on crutches, enjoying the moonlight. When Simoun accosted him, his attempt to risewas accompanied by a stifled groan. 

"You're ready?" Simoun inquired of him. 

"I always am!"

"The coming week?"

"So soon?"

"At the first cannon-shot!"

He moved away, followed by Placido, who was beginning to ask himselfif he were not dreaming. 

"Does it surprise you, " Simoun asked him, "to see a Spaniard so youngand so afflicted with disease? Two years ago he was as robust as youare, but his enemies succeeded in sending him to Balabak to work in apenal settlement, and there he caught the rheumatism and fever thatare dragging him into the grave. The poor devil had married a verybeautiful woman. "

As an empty carriage was passing, Simoun hailed it and with Placidodirected it to his house in the Escolta, just at the moment when theclocks were striking half-past ten. 

Two hours later Placido left the jeweler's house and walked gravelyand thoughtfully along the Escolta, then almost deserted, in spiteof the fact that the cafés were still quite animated. Now and thena carriage passed rapidly, clattering noisily over the worn pavement. 

From a room in his house that overlooked the Pasig, Simoun turnedhis gaze toward the Walled City, which could be seen through the openwindows, with its roofs of galvanized iron gleaming in the moonlightand its somber towers showing dull and gloomy in the midst of theserene night. He laid aside his blue goggles, and his white hair, like a frame of silver, surrounded his energetic bronzed features, dimly lighted by a lamp whose flame was dying out from lack ofoil. Apparently wrapped in thought, he took no notice of the fadinglight and impending darkness. 

"Within a few days, " he murmured, "when on all sides that accursed cityis burning, den of presumptuous nothingness and impious exploitationof the ignorant and the distressed, when the tumults break out in thesuburbs and there rush into the terrorized streets my avenging hordes, engendered by rapacity and wrongs, then will I burst the walls ofyour prison, I will tear you from the clutches of fanaticism, and mywhite dove, you will be the Phoenix that will rise from the glowingembers! A revolution plotted by men in darkness tore me from yourside--another revolution will sweep me into your arms and reviveme! That moon, before reaching the apogee of its brilliance, willlight the Philippines cleansed of loathsome filth!"

Simoun, stopped suddenly, as though interrupted. A voice in his innerconsciousness was asking if he, Simoun, were not also a part of thefilth of that accursed city, perhaps its most poisonous ferment. Likethe dead who are to rise at the sound of the last trumpet, a thousandbloody specters--desperate shades of murdered men, women violated, fathers torn from their families, vices stimulated and encouraged, virtues mocked, now rose in answer to the mysterious question. Forthe first time in his criminal career, since in Havana he had bymeans of corruption and bribery set out to fashion an instrumentfor the execution of his plans--a man without faith, patriotism, orconscience--for the first time in that life, something within rose upand protested against his actions. He closed his eyes and remainedfor some time motionless, then rubbed his hand over his forehead, tried to be deaf to his conscience, and felt fear creeping overhim. No, he must not analyze himself, he lacked the courage to turnhis gaze toward his past. The idea of his courage, his conviction, his self-confidence failing him at the very moment when his work wasset before him! As the ghosts of the wretches in whose misfortuneshe had taken a hand continued to hover before his eyes, as if issuingfrom the shining surface of the river to invade the room with appealsand hands extended toward him, as reproaches and laments seemed tofill the air with threats and cries for vengeance, he turned his gazefrom the window and for the first time began to tremble. 

"No, I must be ill, I can't be feeling well, " he muttered. "Thereare many who hate me, who ascribe their misfortunes to me, but--"

He felt his forehead begin to burn, so he arose to approach the windowand inhale the fresh night breeze. Below him the Pasig dragged alongits silvered stream, on whose bright surface the foam glittered, winding slowly about, receding and advancing, following the course ofthe little eddies. The city loomed up on the opposite bank, and itsblack walls looked fateful, mysterious, losing their sordidness inthe moonlight that idealizes and embellishes everything. But againSimoun shivered; he seemed to see before him the severe countenanceof his father, dying in prison, but dying for having done good; thenthe face of another man, severer still, who had given his life for himbecause he believed that he was going to bring about the regenerationof his country. 

"No, I can't turn back, " he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration fromhis forehead. "The work is at hand and its success will justify me! IfI had conducted myself as you did, I should have succumbed. Nothingof idealism, nothing of fallacious theories! Fire and steel to thecancer, chastisement to vice, and afterwards destroy the instrument, if it be bad! No, I have planned well, but now I feel feverish, myreason wavers, it is natural--If I have done ill, it has been that Imay do good, and the end justifies the means. What I will do is notto expose myself--"

With his thoughts thus confused he lay down, and tried to fall asleep. 

On the following morning Placido listened submissively, with a smileon his lips, to his mother's preachment. When she spoke of her plan ofinteresting the Augustinian procurator he did not protest or object, but on the contrary offered himself to carry it out, in order tosave trouble for his mother, whom he begged to return at once to theprovince, that very day, if possible. Cabesang Andang asked him thereason for such haste. 

"Because--because if the procurator learns that you are here he won'tdo anything until you send him a present and order some masses. "

CHAPTER XX

THE ARBITER

True it was that Padre Irene had said: the question of the academy ofCastilian, so long before broached, was on the road to a solution. DonCustodio, the active Don Custodio, the most active of all the arbitersin the world, according to Ben-Zayb, was occupied with it, spendinghis days reading the petition and falling asleep without reaching anydecision, waking on the following day to repeat the same performance, dropping off to sleep again, and so on continuously. 

How the good man labored, the most active of all the arbitersin the world! He wished to get out of the predicament by pleasingeverybody--the friars, the high official, the Countess, Padre Irene, and his own liberal principles. He had consulted with Señor Pasta, andSeñor Pasta had left him stupefied and confused, after advising him todo a million contradictory and impossible things. He had consulted withPepay the dancing girl, and Pepay, who had no idea what he was talkingabout, executed a pirouette and asked him for twenty-five pesos tobury an aunt of hers who had suddenly died for the fifth time, or thefifth aunt who had suddenly died, according to fuller explanations, atthe same time requesting that he get a cousin of hers who could read, write, and play the violin, a job as assistant on the public works--allthings that were far from inspiring Don Custodio with any saving idea. 

Two days after the events in the Quiapo fair, Don Custodio was asusual busily studying the petition, without hitting upon the happysolution. While he yawns, coughs, smokes, and thinks about Pepay'slegs and her pirouettes, let us give some account of this exaltedpersonage, in order to understand Padre Sibyla's reason for proposinghim as the arbiter of such a vexatious matter and why the other cliqueaccepted him. 

Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de Monteredondo, often referredto as _Good Authority_, belonged to that class of Manila societywhich cannot take a step without having the newspapers heap titlesupon them, calling each _indedefatigable, distinguished, zealous, active, profound, intelligent, well-informed, influential_, and soon, as if they feared that he might be confused with some idle andignorant possessor of the same name. Besides, no harm resulted fromit, and the watchful censor was not disturbed. The _Good Authority_resulted from his friendship with Ben-Zayb, when the latter, in his twonoisiest controversies, which he carried on for weeks and months in thecolumns of the newspapers about whether it was proper to wear a highhat, a derby, or a _salakot, _ and whether the plural of _carácter_should be _carácteres_ or _caractéres, _ in order to strengthen hisargument always came out with, "We have this on good authority, ""We learn this from good authority, " later letting it be known, for in Manila everything becomes known, that this _Good Authority_was no other than Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de Monteredondo. 

He had come to Manila very young, with a good position that had enabledhim to marry a pretty mestiza belonging to one of the wealthiestfamilies of the city. As he had natural talent, boldness, and greatself-possession, and knew how to make use of the society in whichhe found himself, he launched into business with his wife's money, filling contracts for the government, by reason of which he wasmade alderman, afterwards alcalde, member of the Economic Society, [43] councilor of the administration, president of the directory ofthe _Obras Pias_, [44] member of the Society of Mercy, director ofthe Spanish-Filipino Bank, etc. , etc. Nor are these _etceteras_ to betaken like those ordinarily placed after a long enumeration of titles:Don Custodio, although never having seen a treatise on hygiene, cameto be vice-chairman of the Board of Health, for the truth was that ofthe eight who composed this board only one had to be a physician andhe could not be that one. So also he was a member of the VaccinationBoard, which was composed of three physicians and seven laymen, amongthese being the Archbishop and three Provincials. He was a brother inall the confraternities of the common and of the most exalted dignity, and, as we have seen, director of the Superior Commission of PrimaryInstruction, which usually did not do anything--all these being quitesufficient reason for the newspapers to heap adjectives upon him noless when he traveled than when he sneezed. 

In spite of so many offices, Don Custodio was not among those whoslept through the sessions, contenting themselves, like lazy and timiddelegates, in voting with the majority. The opposite of the numerouskings of Europe who bear the title of King of Jerusalem, Don Custodiomade his dignity felt and got from it all the benefit possible, oftenfrowning, making his voice impressive, coughing out his words, oftentaking up the whole session telling a story, presenting a project, ordisputing with a colleague who had placed himself in open oppositionto him. Although not past forty, he already talked of acting withcircumspection, of letting the figs ripen (adding under his breath"pumpkins"), of pondering deeply and of stepping with careful tread, of the necessity for understanding the country, because the nature ofthe Indians, because the prestige of the Spanish name, because theywere first of all Spaniards, because religion--and so on. Rememberedyet in Manila is a speech of his when for the first time it wasproposed to light the city with kerosene in place of the old coconutoil: in such an innovation, far from seeing the extinction of thecoconut-oil industry, he merely discerned the interests of a certainalderman--because Don Custodio saw a long way--and opposed it withall the resonance of his bucal cavity, considering the project toopremature and predicting great social cataclysms. No less celebratedwas his opposition to a sentimental serenade that some wished to tendera certain governor on the eve of his departure. Don Custodio, who felta little resentment over some slight or other, succeeded in insinuatingthe idea that the rising star was the mortal enemy of the setting one, whereat the frightened promoters of the serenade gave it up. 

One day he was advised to return to Spain to be cured of a livercomplaint, and the newspapers spoke of him as an Antaeus who hadto set foot in the mother country to gain new strength. But theManila Antaeus found himself a small and insignificant person at thecapital. There he was nobody, and he missed his beloved adjectives. Hedid not mingle with the upper set, and his lack of education preventedhim from amounting to much in the academies and scientific centers, while his backwardness and his parish-house politics drove him fromthe clubs disgusted, vexed, seeing nothing clearly but that therethey were forever borrowing money and gambling heavily. He missed thesubmissive servants of Manila, who endured all his peevishness, andwho now seemed to be far preferable; when a winter kept him betweena fireplace and an attack of pneumonia, he sighed for the Manilawinter during which a single quilt is sufficient, while in summer hemissed the easy-chair and the boy to fan him. In short, in Madrid hewas only one among many, and in spite of his diamonds he was oncetaken for a rustic who did not know how to comport himself and atanother time for an _Indiano_. His scruples were scoffed at, and hewas shamelessly flouted by some borrowers whom he offended. Disgustedwith the conservatives, who took no great notice of his advice, as wellas with the sponges who rifled his pockets, he declared himself to beof the liberal party and returned within a year to the Philippines, if not sound in his liver, yet completely changed in his beliefs. 

The eleven months spent at the capital among café politicians, nearlyall retired half-pay office-holders, the various speeches caught hereand there, this or that article of the opposition, all the politicallife that permeates the air, from the barber-shop where amid thescissors-clips the Figaro announces his program to the banquetswhere in harmonious periods and telling phrases the differentshades of political opinion, the divergences and disagreements, are adjusted--all these things awoke in him the farther he got fromEurope, like the life-giving sap within the sown seed prevented frombursting out by the thick husk, in such a way that when he reachedManila he believed that he was going to regenerate it and actuallyhad the holiest plans and the purest ideals. 

During the first months after his return he was continually talkingabout the capital, about his good friends, about Minister So-and-So, ex-Minister Such-a-One, the delegate C. , the author B. , and there wasnot a political event, a court scandal, of which he was not informedto the last detail, nor was there a public man the secrets of whoseprivate life were unknown to him, nor could anything occur that hehad not foreseen, nor any reform be ordered but he had first beenconsulted. All this was seasoned with attacks on the conservativesin righteous indignation, with apologies of the liberal party, witha little anecdote here, a phrase there from some great man, droppedin as one who did not wish offices and employments, which same hehad refused in order not to be beholden to the conservatives. Suchwas his enthusiasm in these first days that various cronies inthe grocery-store which he visited from time to time affiliatedthemselves with the liberal party and began to style themselvesliberals: Don Eulogio Badana, a retired sergeant of carbineers;the honest Armendia, by profession a pilot, and a rampant Carlist;Don Eusebio Picote, customs inspector; and Don Bonifacio Tacon, shoe-and harness-maker. [45]

But nevertheless, from lack of encouragement and of opposition, hisenthusiasm gradually waned. He did not read the newspapers that camefrom Spain, because they arrived in packages, the sight of which madehim yawn. The ideas that he had caught having been all expended, heneeded reinforcement, and his orators were not there, and although inthe casinos of Manila there was enough gambling, and money was borrowedas in Madrid, no speech that would nourish his political ideas waspermitted in them. But Don Custodio was not lazy, he did more thanwish--he worked. Foreseeing that he was going to leave his bones inthe Philippines, he began to consider that country his proper sphereand to devote his efforts to its welfare. Thinking to liberalize it, he commenced to draw up a series of reforms or projects, which wereingenious, to say the least. It was he who, having heard in Madridmention of the wooden street pavements of Paris, not yet adopted inSpain, proposed the introduction of them in Manila by covering thestreets with boards nailed down as they are on the sides of houses;it was he who, deploring the accidents to two-wheeled vehicles, planned to avoid them by putting on at least three wheels; it wasalso he who, while acting as vice-president of the Board of Health, ordered everything fumigated, even the telegrams that came frominfected places; it was also he who, in compassion for the convictsthat worked in the sun and with a desire of saving to the governmentthe cost of their equipment, suggested that they be clothed in asimple breech-clout and set to work not by day but at night. Hemarveled, he stormed, that his projects should encounter objectors, but consoled himself with the reflection that the man who is worthenemies has them, and revenged himself by attacking and tearing topieces any project, good or bad, presented by others. 

As he prided himself on being a liberal, upon being asked what hethought of the Indians he would answer, like one conferring a greatfavor, that they were fitted for manual labor and the _imitativearts_ (meaning thereby music, painting, and sculpture), adding hisold postscript that to know them one must have resided many, manyyears in the country. Yet when he heard of any one of them excellingin something that was not manual labor or an _imitative art_--inchemistry, medicine, or philosophy, for example--he would exclaim:"Ah, he promises fairly, fairly well, he's not a fool!" and feel surethat a great deal of Spanish blood must flow in the veins of such an_Indian_. If unable to discover any in spite of his good intentions, he then sought a Japanese origin, for it was at that time the fashionbegan of attributing to the Japanese or the Arabs whatever good theFilipinos might have in them. For him the native songs were Arabicmusic, as was also the alphabet of the ancient Filipinos--he wascertain of this, although he did not know Arabic nor had he ever seenthat alphabet. 

"Arabic, the purest Arabic, " he said to Ben-Zayb in a tone thatadmitted no reply. "At best, Chinese!"

Then he would add, with a significant wink: "Nothing can be, nothingought to be, original with the Indians, you understand! I like themgreatly, but they mustn't be allowed to pride themselves upon anything, for then they would take heart and turn into a lot of wretches. "

At other times he would say: "I love the Indians fondly, I'veconstituted myself their father and defender, but it's necessary tokeep everything in its proper place. Some were born to command andothers to serve--plainly, that is a truism which can't be uttered veryloudly, but it can be put into practise without many words. For look, the trick depends upon trifles. When you wish to reduce a peopleto subjection, assure it that it is in subjection. The first day itwill laugh, the second protest, the third doubt, and the fourth beconvinced. To keep the Filipino docile, he must have repeated to himday after day what he is, to convince him that he is incompetent. Whatgood would it do, besides, to have him believe in something else thatwould make him wretched? Believe me, it's an act of charity to holdevery creature in his place--that is order, harmony. That constitutesthe _science_ of government. "

In referring to his policies, Don Custodio was not satisfied with theword _art_, and upon pronouncing the word _government_, he would extendhis hand downwards to the height of a man bent over on his knees. 

In regard to his religious ideas, he prided himself on being aCatholic, very much a Catholic--ah, Catholic Spain, the land of_María Santísima_! A liberal could be and ought to be a Catholic, when the reactionaries were setting themselves up as gods or saints, just as a mulatto passes for a white man in Kaffirland. But with allthat, he ate meat during Lent, except on Good Friday, never went toconfession, believed neither in miracles nor the infallibility of thePope, and when he attended mass, went to the one at ten o'clock, orto the shortest, the military mass. Although in Madrid he had spokenill of the religious orders, so as not to be out of harmony with hissurroundings, considering them anachronisms, and had hurled cursesagainst the Inquisition, while relating this or that lurid or drollstory wherein the habits danced, or rather friars without habits, yet in speaking of the Philippines, which should be ruled by speciallaws, he would cough, look wise, and again extend his hand downwardsto that mysterious altitude. 

"The friars are necessary, they're a necessary evil, " he would declare. 

But how he would rage when any Indian dared to doubt the miraclesor did not acknowledge the Pope! All the tortures of the Inquisitionwere insufficient to punish such temerity. 

When it was objected that to rule or to live at the expense ofignorance has another and somewhat ugly name and is punished by lawwhen the culprit is a single person, he would justify his positionby referring to other colonies. "We, " he would announce in hisofficial tone, "can speak out plainly! We're not like the Britishand the Dutch who, in order to hold people in subjection, make useof the lash. We avail ourselves of other means, milder and surer. Thesalutary influence of the friars is superior to the British lash. "

This last remark made his fortune. For a long time Ben-Zayb continuedto use adaptations of it, and with him all Manila. The thinkingpart of Manila applauded it, and it even got to Madrid, where itwas quoted in the Parliament as from _a liberal of long residencethere_. The friars, flattered by the comparison and seeing theirprestige enhanced, sent him sacks of chocolate, presents which theincorruptible Don Custodio returned, so that Ben-Zayb immediatelycompared him to Epaminondas. Nevertheless, this modern Epaminondasmade use of the rattan in his choleric moments, and advised its use!

At that time the conventos, fearful that he would render a decisionfavorable to the petition of the students, increased their gifts, so that on the afternoon when we see him he was more perplexed thanever, his reputation for energy was being compromised. It had beenmore than a fortnight since he had had the petition in his hands, and only that morning the high official, after praising his zeal, had asked for a decision. Don Custodio had replied with mysteriousgravity, giving him to understand that it was not yet completed. Thehigh official had smiled a smile that still worried and haunted him. 

As we were saying, he yawned and yawned. In one of these movements, atthe moment when he opened his eyes and closed his mouth, his attentionwas caught by a file of red envelopes, arranged in regular order on amagnificent kamagon desk. On the back of each could be read in largeletters: PROJECTS. 

For a moment he forgot his troubles and Pepay's pirouettes, toreflect upon all that those files contained, which had issued from hisprolific brain in his hours of inspiration. How many original ideas, how many sublime thoughts, how many means of ameliorating the woesof the Philippines! Immortality and the gratitude of the country weresurely his!

Like an old lover who discovers a moldy package of amorous epistles, Don Custodio arose and approached the desk. The first envelope, thick, swollen, and plethoric, bore the title: PROJECTS IN PROJECT. 

"No, " he murmured, "they're excellent things, but it would take ayear to read them over. "

The second, also quite voluminous, was entitled: PROJECTS UNDERCONSIDERATION. "No, not those either. "

Then came the PROJECTS NEARING COMPLETION, PROJECTS PRESENTED, PROJECTSREJECTED, PROJECTS APPROVED, PROJECTS POSTPONED. These last envelopesheld little, but the least of all was that of the PROJECTS EXECUTED. 

Don Custodio wrinkled up his nose--what did it contain? He hadcompletely forgotten what was in it. A sheet of yellowish papershowed from under the flap, as though the envelope were sticking outits tongue. This he drew out and unfolded: it was the famous projectfor the School of Arts and Trades!

"What the devil!" he exclaimed. "If the Augustinian padres took chargeof it--"

Suddenly he slapped his forehead and arched his eyebrows, while a lookof triumph overspread his face. "I have reached a decision!" he criedwith an oath that was not exactly _eureka_. "My decision is made!"

Repeating his peculiar _eureka_ five or six times, which struck theair like so many gleeful lashes, he sat down at his desk, radiantwith joy, and began to write furiously. 

CHAPTER XXI

MANILA TYPES

That night there was a grand function at the Teatro deVariedades. Mr. Jouay's French operetta company was giving its initialperformance, _Les Cloches de Corneville_. To the eyes of the publicwas to be exhibited his select troupe, whose fame the newspapers hadfor days been proclaiming. It was reported that among the actresseswas a very beautiful voice, with a figure even more beautiful, andif credit could be given to rumor, her amiability surpassed even hervoice and figure. 

At half-past seven in the evening there were no more tickets to behad, not even though they had been for Padre Salvi himself in hisdirect need, and the persons waiting to enter the general admissionalready formed a long queue. In the ticket-office there were scufflesand fights, talk of filibusterism and races, but this did not produceany tickets, so that by a quarter before eight fabulous prices werebeing offered for them. The appearance of the building, profuselyilluminated, with flowers and plants in all the doors and windows, enchanted the new arrivals to such an extent that they burst out intoexclamations and applause. A large crowd surged about the entrance, gazing enviously at those going in, those who came early from fearof missing their seats. Laughter, whispering, expectation greeted thelater arrivals, who disconsolately joined the curious crowd, and nowthat they could not get in contented themselves with watching thosewho did. 

Yet there was one person who seemed out of place amid such greateagerness and curiosity. He was a tall, meager man, who dragged oneleg stiffly when he walked, dressed in a wretched brown coat and dirtycheckered trousers that fitted his lean, bony limbs tightly. A strawsombrero, artistic in spite of being broken, covered an enormoushead and allowed his dirty gray, almost red, hair to straggle outlong and kinky at the end like a poet's curls. But the most notablething about this man was not his clothing or his European features, guiltless of beard or mustache, but his fiery red face, from which hegot the nickname by which he was known, _Camaroncocido_. [46] He wasa curious character belonging to a prominent Spanish family, but helived like a vagabond and a beggar, scoffing at the prestige which heflouted indifferently with his rags. He was reputed to be a kind ofreporter, and in fact his gray goggle-eyes, so cold and thoughtful, always showed up where anything publishable was happening. His mannerof living was a mystery to all, as no one seemed to know where heate and slept. Perhaps he had an empty hogshead somewhere. 

But at that moment Camaroncocido lacked his usual hard and indifferentexpression, something like mirthful pity being reflected in hislooks. A funny little man accosted him merrily. 

"Friend!" exclaimed the latter, in a raucous voice, as hoarse as afrog's, while he displayed several Mexican pesos, which Camaroncocidomerely glanced at and then shrugged his shoulders. What did theymatter to him?

The little old man was a fitting contrast to him. Small, very small, he wore on his head a high hat, which presented the appearance of ahuge hairy worm, and lost himself in an enormous frock coat, too wideand too long for him, to reappear in trousers too short, not reachingbelow his calves. His body seemed to be the grandfather and his legsthe grandchildren, while as for his shoes he appeared to be floatingon the land, for they were of an enormous sailor type, apparentlyprotesting against the hairy worm worn on his head with all the energyof a convento beside a World's Exposition. If Camaroncocido was red, he was brown; while the former, although of Spanish extraction, hadnot a single hair on his face, yet he, an Indian, had a goatee andmustache, both long, white, and sparse. His expression was lively. Hewas known as _Tio Quico_, [47] and like his friend lived on publicity, advertising the shows and posting the theatrical announcements, being perhaps the only Filipino who could appear with impunity in asilk hat and frock coat, just as his friend was the first Spaniardwho laughed at the prestige of his race. 

"The Frenchman has paid me well, " he said smiling and showing hispicturesque gums, which looked like a street after a conflagration. "Idid a good job in posting the bills. "

Camaroncocido shrugged his shoulders again. "Quico, " he rejoined ina cavernous voice, "if they've given you six pesos for your work, how much will they give the friars?"

Tio Quico threw back his head in his usual lively manner. "To thefriars?"

"Because you surely know, " continued Camaroncocido, "that all thiscrowd was secured for them by the conventos. "

The fact was that the friars, headed by Padre Salvi, and some laybrethren captained by Don Custodio, had opposed such shows. PadreCamorra, who could not attend, watered at the eyes and mouth, butargued with Ben-Zayb, who defended them feebly, thinking of the freetickets they would send his newspaper. Don Custodio spoke of morality, religion, good manners, and the like. 

"But, " stammered the writer, "if our own farces with their plays onwords and phrases of double meaning--"

"But at least they're in Castilian!" the virtuous councilor interruptedwith a roar, inflamed to righteous wrath. "Obscenities in French, man, Ben-Zayb, for God's sake, in French! Never!"

He uttered this _never_ with the energy of three Guzmans threatenedwith being killed like fleas if they did not surrender twentyTarifas. Padre Irene naturally agreed with Don Custodio and execratedFrench operetta. Whew, he had been in Paris, but had never set footin a theater, the Lord deliver him!

Yet the French operetta also counted numerous partizans. The officersof the army and navy, among them the General's aides, the clerks, and many society people were anxious to enjoy the delicacies of theFrench language from the mouths of genuine _Parisiennes_, and withthem were affiliated those who had traveled by the M. M. [48] and hadjabbered a little French during the voyage, those who had visitedParis, and all those who wished to appear learned. 

Hence, Manila society was divided into two factions, operettistsand anti-operettists. The latter were supported by the elderlyladies, wives jealous and careful of their husbands' love, and bythose who were engaged, while those who were free and those whowere beautiful declared themselves enthusiastic operettists. Notesand then more notes were exchanged, there were goings and comings, mutual recriminations, meetings, lobbyings, arguments, even talk ofan insurrection of the natives, of their indolence, of inferior andsuperior races, of prestige and other humbugs, so that after muchgossip and more recrimination, the permit was granted, Padre Salviat the same time publishing a pastoral that was read by no one butthe proof-reader. There were questionings whether the General hadquarreled with the Countess, whether she spent her time in the hallsof pleasure, whether His Excellency was greatly annoyed, whetherthere had been presents exchanged, whether the French consul--, andso on and on. Many names were bandied about: Quiroga the Chinaman's, Simoun's, and even those of many actresses. 

Thanks to these scandalous preliminaries, the people's impatience hadbeen aroused, and since the evening before, when the troupe arrived, there was talk of nothing but attending the first performance. Fromthe hour when the red posters announced _Les Cloches de Corneville_ thevictors prepared to celebrate their triumph. In some offices, insteadof the time being spent in reading newspapers and gossiping, it wasdevoted to devouring the synopsis and spelling out French novels, whilemany feigned business outside to consult their pocket-dictionarieson the sly. So no business was transacted, callers were told to comeback the next day, but the public could not take offense, for theyencountered some very polite and affable clerks, who received anddismissed them with grand salutations in the French style. The clerkswere practising, brushing the dust off their French, and calling toone another _oui, monsieur, s'il vous plait_, and _pardon_! at everyturn, so that it was a pleasure to see and hear them. 

But the place where the excitement reached its climax was the newspaperoffice. Ben-Zayb, having been appointed critic and translator of thesynopsis, trembled like a poor woman accused of witchcraft, as he sawhis enemies picking out his blunders and throwing up to his face hisdeficient knowledge of French. When the Italian opera was on, he hadvery nearly received a challenge for having mistranslated a tenor'sname, while an envious rival had immediately published an articlereferring to him as an ignoramus--him, the foremost thinking head inthe Philippines! All the trouble he had had to defend himself! Hehad had to write at least seventeen articles and consult fifteendictionaries, so with these salutary recollections, the wretchedBen-Zayb moved about with leaden hands, to say nothing of his feet, for that would be plagiarizing Padre Camorra, who had once intimatedthat the journalist wrote with them. 

"You see, Quico?" said Camaroncocido. "One half of the people havecome because the friars told them not to, making it a kind of publicprotest, and the other half because they say to themselves, 'Do thefriars object to it? Then it must be instructive!' Believe me, Quico, your advertisements are a good thing but the pastoral was better, even taking into consideration the fact that it was read by no one. "

"Friend, do you believe, " asked Tio Quico uneasily, "that on accountof the competition with Padre Salvi my business will in the futurebe prohibited?"

"Maybe so, Quico, maybe so, " replied the other, gazing at thesky. "Money's getting scarce. "

Tio Quico muttered some incoherent words: if the friars were going toturn theatrical advertisers, he would become a friar. After bidding hisfriend good-by, he moved away coughing and rattling his silver coins. 

With his eternal indifference Camaroncocido continued to wander abouthere and there with his crippled leg and sleepy looks. The arrivalof unfamiliar faces caught his attention, coming as they did fromdifferent parts and signaling to one another with a wink or a cough. Itwas the first time that he had ever seen these individuals on suchan occasion, he who knew all the faces and features in the city. Menwith dark faces, humped shoulders, uneasy and uncertain movements, poorly disguised, as though they had for the first time put on sackcoats, slipped about among the shadows, shunning attention, insteadof getting in the front rows where they could see well. 

"Detectives or thieves?" Camaroncocido asked himself and immediatelyshrugged his shoulders. "But what is it to me?"

The lamp of a carriage that drove up lighted in passing a group offour or five of these individuals talking with a man who appeared tobe an army officer. 

"Detectives! It must be a new corps, " he muttered with his shrugof indifference. Soon, however, he noticed that the officer, afterspeaking to two or three more groups, approached a carriage and seemedto be talking vigorously with some person inside. Camaroncocido tooka few steps forward and without surprise thought that he recognizedthe jeweler Simoun, while his sharp ears caught this short dialogue. 

"The signal will be a gunshot!"

"Yes, sir. "

"Don't worry--it's the General who is ordering it, but be careful aboutsaying so. If you follow my instructions, you'll get a promotion. "

"Yes, sir. "

"So, be ready!"

The voice ceased and a second later the carriage drove away. In spiteof his indifference Camaroncocido could not but mutter, "Something'safoot--hands on pockets!"

But feeling his own to be empty, he again shrugged his shoulders. Whatdid it matter to him, even though the heavens should fall?

So he continued his pacing about. On passing near two persons engagedin conversation, he caught what one of them, who had rosaries andscapularies around his neck, was saying in Tagalog: "The friars aremore powerful than the General, don't be a fool! He'll go away andthey'll stay here. So, if we do well, we'll get rich. The signal isa gunshot. "

"Hold hard, hold hard, " murmured Camaroncocido, tightening hisfingers. "On that side the General, on this Padre Salvi. Poorcountry! But what is it to me?"

Again shrugging his shoulders and expectorating at the same time, two actions that with him were indications of supreme indifference, he continued his observations. 

Meanwhile, the carriages were arriving in dizzy streams, stoppingdirectly before the door to set down the members of the selectsociety. Although the weather was scarcely even cool, the ladiessported magnificent shawls, silk neckerchiefs, and even lightcloaks. Among the escorts, some who were in frock coats with whiteties wore overcoats, while others carried them on their arms todisplay the rich silk linings. 

In a group of spectators, Tadeo, he who was always taken ill themoment the professor appeared, was accompanied by a fellow townsmanof his, the novice whom we saw suffer evil consequences from readingwrongly the Cartesian principle. This novice was very inquisitive andaddicted to tiresome questions, and Tadeo was taking advantage of hisingenuousness and inexperience to relate to him the most stupendouslies. Every Spaniard that spoke to him, whether clerkling or underling, was presented as a leading merchant, a marquis, or a count, while onthe other hand any one who passed him by was a greenhorn, a pettyofficial, a nobody! When pedestrians failed him in keeping up thenovice's astonishment, he resorted to the resplendent carriages thatcame up. Tadeo would bow politely, wave his hand in a friendly manner, and call out a familiar greeting. 

"Who's he?"

"Bah!" was the negligent reply. "The Civil Governor, the Vice-Governor, Judge ----, Señora ----, all friends of mine!"

The novice marveled and listened in fascination, taking care to keepon the left. Tadeo the friend of judges and governors!

Tadeo named all the persons who arrived, when he did not know theminventing titles, biographies, and interesting sketches. 

"You see that tall gentleman with dark whiskers, somewhat squint-eyed, dressed in black--he's Judge A ----, an intimate friend of the wife ofColonel B ----. One day if it hadn't been for me they would have cometo blows. Hello, here comes that Colonel! What if they should fight?"

The novice held his breath, but the colonel and the judge shook handscordially, the soldier, an old bachelor, inquiring about the healthof the judge's family. 

"Ah, thank heaven!" breathed Tadeo. "I'm the one who made themfriends. "

"What if they should invite us to go in?" asked the novice timidly. 

"Get out, boy! I never accept favors!" retorted Tadeo majestically. "Iconfer them, but disinterestedly. "

The novice bit his lip and felt smaller than ever, while he placeda respectful distance between himself and his fellow townsman. 

Tadeo resumed: "That is the musician H----; that one, the lawyerJ----, who delivered as his own a speech printed in all the books andwas congratulated and admired for it; Doctor K----, that man justgetting out of a hansom, is a specialist in diseases of children, so he's called Herod; that's the banker L----, who can talk only ofhis money and his hoards; the poet M----, who is always dealing withthe stars and _the beyond_. There goes the beautiful wife of N----, whom Padre Q----is accustomed to meet when he calls upon the absenthusband; the Jewish merchant P----, who came to the islands with athousand pesos and is now a millionaire. That fellow with the longbeard is the physician R----, who has become rich by making invalidsmore than by curing them. "

"Making invalids?"

"Yes, boy, in the examination of the conscripts. Attention! Thatfinely dressed gentleman is not a physician but a homeopathist _suigeneris_--he professes completely the _similis similibus_. The youngcavalry captain with him is his chosen disciple. That man in a lightsuit with his hat tilted back is the government clerk whose maximis never to be polite and who rages like a demon when he sees a haton any one else's head--they say that he does it to ruin the Germanhatters. The man just arriving with his family is the wealthy merchantC----, who has an income of over a hundred thousand pesos. But whatwould you say if I should tell you that he still owes me four pesos, five reales, and twelve cuartos? But who would collect from a richman like him?"

"That gentleman in debt to you?"

"Sure! One day I got him out of a bad fix. It was on a Friday athalf-past six in the morning, I still remember, because I hadn'tbreakfasted. That lady who is followed by a duenna is the celebratedPepay, the dancing girl, but she doesn't dance any more now that avery Catholic gentleman and a great friend of mine has--forbiddenit. There's the death's-head Z----, who's surely following her to gether to dance again. He's a good fellow, and a great friend of mine, but has one defect--he's a Chinese mestizo and yet calls himself aPeninsular Spaniard. Sssh! Look at Ben-Zayb, him with the face of afriar, who's carrying a pencil and a roll of paper in his hand. He'sthe great writer, Ben-Zayb, a good friend of mine--he has talent!"

"You don't say! And that little man with white whiskers?"

"He's the official who has appointed his daughters, those three littlegirls, assistants in his department, so as to get their names on thepay-roll. He's a clever man, very clever! When he makes a mistake heblames it on somebody else, he buys things and pays for them out ofthe treasury. He's clever, very, very clever!"

Tadeo was about to say more, but suddenly checked himself. 

"And that gentleman who has a fierce air and gazes at everybody overhis shoulders?" inquired the novice, pointing to a man who noddedhaughtily. 

But Tadeo did not answer. He was craning his neck to see PaulitaGomez, who was approaching with a friend, Doña Victorina, and JuanitoPelaez. The latter had presented her with a box and was more humpedthan ever. 

Carriage after carriage drove up; the actors and actresses arrivedand entered by a separate door, followed by their friends and admirers. 

After Paulita had gone in, Tadeo resumed: "Those are the nieces ofthe rich Captain D----, those coming up in a landau; you see howpretty and healthy they are? Well, in a few years they'll be dead orcrazy. Captain D---- is opposed to their marrying, and the insanityof the uncle is appearing in the nieces. That's the Señorita E----, the rich heiress whom the world and the conventos are disputingover. Hello, I know that fellow! It's Padre Irene, in disguise, witha false mustache. I recognize him by his nose. And he was so greatlyopposed to this!"

The scandalized novice watched a neatly cut coat disappear behind agroup of ladies. 

"The Three Fates!" went on Tadeo, watching the arrival of threewithered, bony, hollow-eyed, wide-mouthed, and shabbily dressedwomen. "They're called--"

"Atropos?" ventured the novice, who wished to show that he also knewsomebody, at least in mythology. 

"No, boy, they're called the Weary Waiters--old, censorious, anddull. They pretend to hate everybody--men, women, and children. Butlook how the Lord always places beside the evil a remedy, only thatsometimes it comes late. There behind the Fates, the frights ofthe city, come those three girls, the pride of their friends, amongwhom I count myself. That thin young man with goggle-eyes, somewhatstooped, who is wildly gesticulating because he can't get tickets, is the chemist S----, author of many essays and scientific treatises, some of which are notable and have captured prizes. The Spaniards sayof him, 'There's some hope for him, some hope for him. ' The fellow whois soothing him with his Voltairian smile is the poet T----, a youngman of talent, a great friend of mine, and, for the very reason thathe has talent, he has thrown away his pen. That fellow who is trying toget in with the actors by the other door is the young physician U----, who has effected some remarkable cures--it's also said of him that hepromises well. He's not such a scoundrel as Pelaez but he's clevererand slyer still. I believe that he'd shake dice with death and win. "

"And that brown gentleman with a mustache like hog-bristles?"

"Ah, that's the merchant F----, who forges everything, even hisbaptismal certificate. He wants to be a Spanish mestizo at any cost, and is making heroic efforts to forget his native language. "

"But his daughters are very white. "

"Yes, that's the reason rice has gone up in price, and yet they eatnothing but bread. "

The novice did not understand the connection between the price ofrice and the whiteness of those girls, but he held his peace. 

"There goes the fellow that's engaged to one of them, that thin brownyouth who is following them with a lingering movement and speaking witha protecting air to the three friends who are laughing at him. He'sa martyr to his beliefs, to his consistency. "

The novice was filled with admiration and respect for the young man. 

"He has the look of a fool, and he is one, " continued Tadeo. "Hewas born in San Pedro Makati and has inflicted many privations uponhimself. He scarcely ever bathes or eats pork, because, according tohim, the Spaniards don't do those things, and for the same reason hedoesn't eat rice and dried fish, although he may be watering at themouth and dying of hunger. Anything that comes from Europe, rottenor preserved, he considers divine--a month ago Basilio cured him ofa severe attack of gastritis, for he had eaten a jar of mustard toprove that he's a European. "

At that moment the orchestra struck up a waltz. 

"You see that gentleman--that hypochondriac who goes along turninghis head from side to side, seeking salutes? That's the celebratedgovernor of Pangasinan, a good man who loses his appetite whenever anyIndian fails to salute him. He would have died if he hadn't issued theproclamation about salutes to which he owes his celebrity. Poor fellow, it's only been three days since he came from the province and look howthin he has become! Oh, here's the great man, the illustrious--openyour eyes!"

"Who? That man with knitted brows?"

"Yes, that's Don Custodio, the liberal, Don Custodio. His brows areknit because he's meditating over some important project. If theideas he has in his head were carried out, this would be a differentworld! Ah, here comes Makaraig, your housemate. "

It was in fact Makaraig, with Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani. Uponseeing them, Tadeo advanced and spoke to them. 

"Aren't you coming in?" Makaraig asked him. 

"We haven't been able to get tickets. "

"Fortunately, we have a box, " replied Makaraig. "Basilio couldn'tcome. Both of you, come in with us. "

Tadeo did not wait for the invitation to be repeated, but the novice, fearing that he would intrude, with the timidity natural to theprovincial Indian, excused himself, nor could he be persuaded to enter. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE PERFORMANCE

The interior of the theater presented a lively aspect. It was filledfrom top to bottom, with people standing in the corridors and inthe aisles, fighting to withdraw a head from some hole where theyhad inserted it, or to shove an eye between a collar and an ear. Theopen boxes, occupied for the most part by ladies, looked like basketsof flowers, whose petals--the fans--shook in a light breeze, whereinhummed a thousand bees. However, just as there are flowers of strongor delicate fragrance, flowers that kill and flowers that console, so from our baskets were exhaled like emanations: there were to beheard dialogues, conversations, remarks that bit and stung. Threeor four boxes, however, were still vacant, in spite of the latenessof the hour. The performance had been advertised for half-past eightand it was already a quarter to nine, but the curtain did not go up, as his Excellency had not yet arrived. The gallery-gods, impatientand uncomfortable in their seats, started a racket, clapping theirhands and pounding the floor with their canes. 

"Boom--boom--boom! Ring up the curtain! Boom--boom--boom!"

The artillerymen were not the least noisy. Emulators of Mars, asBen-Zayb called them, they were not satisfied with this music; thinkingthemselves perhaps at a bullfight, they made remarks at the ladies whopassed before them in words that are euphemistically called flowersin Madrid, although at times they seem more like foul weeds. Withoutheeding the furious looks of the husbands, they bandied from one toanother the sentiments and longings inspired by so many beauties. 

In the reserved seats, where the ladies seemed to be afraid to venture, as few were to be seen there, a murmur of voices prevailed amidsuppressed laughter and clouds of tobacco smoke. They discussed themerits of the players and talked scandal, wondering if his Excellencyhad quarreled with the friars, if his presence at such a show wasa defiance or mere curiosity. Others gave no heed to these matters, but were engaged in attracting the attention of the ladies, throwingthemselves into attitudes more or less interesting and statuesque, flashing diamond rings, especially when they thought themselves thefoci of insistent opera-glasses, while yet another would address arespectful salute to this or that señora or señorita, at the same timelowering his head gravely to whisper to a neighbor, "How ridiculousshe is! And such a bore!"

The lady would respond with one of her most gracious smiles and anenchanting nod of her head, while murmuring to a friend sitting near, amid lazy flourishes of her fan, "How impudent he is! He's madly inlove, my dear. "

Meanwhile, the noise increased. There remained only two vacantboxes, besides that of his Excellency, which was distinguished byits curtains of red velvet. The orchestra played another waltz, theaudience protested, when fortunately there arose a charitable hero todistract their attention and relieve the manager, in the person ofa man who had occupied a reserved seat and refused to give it up toits owner, the philosopher Don Primitivo. Finding his own argumentsuseless, Don Primitivo had appealed to an usher. "I don't care to, "the hero responded to the latter's protests, placidly puffing at hiscigarette. The usher appealed to the manager. "I don't care to, " wasthe response, as he settled back in the seat. The manager went away, while the artillerymen in the gallery began to sing out encouragementto the usurper. 

Our hero, now that he had attracted general attention, thought thatto yield would be to lower himself, so he held on to the seat, whilehe repeated his answer to a pair of guards the manager had calledin. These, in consideration of the rebel's rank, went in search oftheir corporal, while the whole house broke out into applause at thefirmness of the hero, who remained seated like a Roman senator. 

Hisses were heard, and the inflexible gentleman turned angrily to seeif they were meant for him, but the galloping of horses resoundedand the stir increased. One might have said that a revolution hadbroken out, or at least a riot, but no, the orchestra had suspendedthe waltz and was playing the royal march: it was his Excellency, theCaptain-General and Governor of the islands, who was entering. Alleyes sought and followed him, then lost sight of him, until hefinally appeared in his box. After looking all about him and makingsome persons happy with a lordly salute, he sat down, as though hewere indeed the man for whom the chair was waiting. The artillerymenthen became silent and the orchestra tore into the prelude. 

Our students occupied a box directly facing that of Pepay, thedancing girl. Her box was a present from Makaraig, who had alreadygot on good terms with her in order to propitiate Don Custodio. Pepayhad that very afternoon written a note to the illustrious arbiter, asking for an answer and appointing an interview in the theater. Forthis reason, Don Custodio, in spite of the active opposition hehad manifested toward the French operetta, had gone to the theater, which action won him some caustic remarks on the part of Don Manuel, his ancient adversary in the sessions of the Ayuntamiento. 

"I've come to judge the operetta, " he had replied in the tone of aCato whose conscience was clear. 

So Makaraig was exchanging looks of intelligence with Pepay, who wasgiving him to understand that she had something to tell him. As thedancing girl's face wore a happy expression, the students auguredthat a favorable outcome was assured. Sandoval, who had just returnedfrom making calls in other boxes, also assured them that the decisionhad been favorable, that that very afternoon the Superior Commissionhad considered and approved it. Every one was jubilant, even Pecsonhaving laid aside his pessimism when he saw the smiling Pepay displaya note. Sandoval and Makaraig congratulated one another, Isagani aloneremaining cold and unsmiling. What had happened to this young man?

Upon entering the theater, Isagani had caught sight of Paulita in abox, with Juanito Pelaez talking to her. He had turned pale, thinkingthat he must be mistaken. But no, it was she herself, she who greetedhim with a gracious smile, while her beautiful eyes seemed to beasking pardon and promising explanations. The fact was that they hadagreed upon Isagani's going first to the theater to see if the showcontained anything improper for a young woman, but now he found herthere, and in no other company than that of his rival. What passed inhis mind is indescribable: wrath, jealousy, humiliation, resentmentraged within him, and there were moments even when he wished thatthe theater would fall in; he had a violent desire to laugh aloud, to insult his sweetheart, to challenge his rival, to make a scene, butfinally contented himself with sitting quiet and not looking at her atall. He was conscious of the beautiful plans Makaraig and Sandoval weremaking, but they sounded like distant echoes, while the notes of thewaltz seemed sad and lugubrious, the whole audience stupid and foolish, and several times he had to make an effort to keep back the tears. Ofthe trouble stirred up by the hero who refused to give up the seat, of the arrival of the Captain-General, he was scarcely conscious. Hestared toward the drop-curtain, on which was depicted a kind ofgallery with sumptuous red hangings, affording a view of a garden inwhich a fountain played, yet how sad the gallery looked to him and howmelancholy the painted landscape! A thousand vague recollections surgedinto his memory like distant echoes of music heard in the night, likesongs of infancy, the murmur of lonely forests and gloomy rivulets, moonlit nights on the shore of the sea spread wide before his eyes. Sothe enamored youth considered himself very wretched and stared fixedlyat the ceiling so that the tears should not fall from his eyes. 

A burst of applause drew him from these meditations. The curtainhad just risen, and the merry chorus of peasants of Corneville waspresented, all dressed in cotton caps, with heavy wooden sabots ontheir feet. Some six or seven girls, well-rouged on the lips andcheeks, with large black circles around their eyes to increase theirbrilliance, displayed white arms, fingers covered with diamonds, round and shapely limbs. While they were chanting the Norman phrase"_Allez, marchez! Allez, marchez!_" they smiled at their differentadmirers in the reserved seats with such openness that Don Custodio, after looking toward Pepay's box to assure himself that she wasnot doing the same thing with some other admirer, set down in hisnote-book this indecency, and to make sure of it lowered his head alittle to see if the actresses were not showing their knees. 

"Oh, these Frenchwomen!" he muttered, while his imagination lostitself in considerations somewhat more elevated, as he made comparisonsand projects. 

"_Quoi v'la tous les cancans d'la s'maine!_" sang Gertrude, a prouddamsel, who was looking roguishly askance at the Captain-General. 

"We're going to have the cancan!" exclaimed Tadeo, the winner of thefirst prize in the French class, who had managed to make out thisword. "Makaraig, they're going to dance the cancan!"

He rubbed his hands gleefully. From the moment the curtain rose, Tadeo had been heedless of the music. He was looking only for theprurient, the indecent, the immoral in actions and dress, and withhis scanty French was sharpening his ears to catch the obscenitiesthat the austere guardians of the fatherland had foretold. 

Sandoval, pretending to know French, had converted himself into akind of interpreter for his friends. He knew as much about it asTadeo, but the published synopsis helped him and his fancy suppliedthe rest. "Yes, " he said, "they're going to dance the cancan--she'sgoing to lead it. "

Makaraig and Pecson redoubled their attention, smiling in anticipation, while Isagani looked away, mortified to think that Paulita shouldbe present at such a show and reflecting that it was his duty tochallenge Juanito Pelaez the next day. 

But the young men waited in vain. Serpolette came on, a charming girl, in her cotton cap, provoking and challenging. "_Hein, qui parle deSerpolette?_" she demanded of the gossips, with her arms akimbo ina combative attitude. Some one applauded, and after him all those inthe reserved seats. Without changing her girlish attitude, Serpolettegazed at the person who had started the applause and paid him with asmile, displaying rows of little teeth that looked like a string ofpearls in a case of red velvet. 

Tadeo followed her gaze and saw a man in a false mustache with anextraordinarily large nose. "By the monk's cowl!" he exclaimed. "It'sIrene!"

"Yes, " corroborated Sandoval, "I saw him behind the scenes talkingwith the actresses. "

The truth was that Padre Irene, who was a melomaniac of the firstdegree and knew French well, had been sent to the theater by PadreSalvi as a sort of religious detective, or so at least he toldthe persons who recognized him. As a faithful critic, who shouldnot be satisfied with viewing the piece from a distance, he wishedto examine the actresses at first hand, so he had mingled in thegroups of admirers and gallants, had penetrated into the greenroom, where was whispered and talked a French required by the situation, a _market French_, a language that is readily comprehensible for thevender when the buyer seems disposed to pay well. 

Serpolette was surrounded by two gallant officers, a sailor, and alawyer, when she caught sight of him moving about, sticking the tipof his long nose into all the nooks and corners, as though with ithe were ferreting out all the mysteries of the stage. She ceased herchatter, knitted her eyebrows, then raised them, opened her lips andwith the vivacity of a _Parisienne_ left her admirers to hurl herselflike a torpedo upon our critic. 

"_Tiens, tiens, Toutou! Mon lapin!_" she cried, catching Padre Irene'sarm and shaking it merrily, while the air rang with her silvery laugh. 

"Tut, tut!" objected Padre Irene, endeavoring to conceal himself. 

"_Mais, comment! Toi ici, grosse bête! Et moi qui t'croyais--_"

"_'Tais pas d'tapage, Lily! Il faut m'respecter! 'Suis ici l'Pape!_"

With great difficulty Padre Irene made her listen to reason, for Lilywas _enchanteé_ to meet in Manila an old friend who reminded her ofthe _coulisses_ of the Grand Opera House. So it was that Padre Irene, fulfilling at the same time his duties as a friend and a critic, hadinitiated the applause to encourage her, for Serpolette deserved it. 

Meanwhile, the young men were waiting for the cancan. Pecson becameall eyes, but there was everything except cancan. There was presentedthe scene in which, but for the timely arrival of the representativesof the law, the women would have come to blows and torn one another'shair out, incited thereto by the mischievous peasants, who, like ourstudents, hoped to see something more than the cancan. 

 Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, Disputez-vous, battez-vous, Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, Nous allons compter les coups. 

The music ceased, the men went away, the women returned, a few ata time, and started a conversation among themselves, of which ourfriends understood nothing. They were slandering some absent person. 

"They look like the Chinamen of the _pansiteria!_" whispered Pecson. 

"But, the cancan?" asked Makaraig. 

"They're talking about the most suitable place to dance it, " gravelyresponded Sandoval. 

"They look like the Chinamen of the _pansiteria_, " repeated Pecsonin disgust. 

A lady accompanied by her husband entered at that moment and took herplace in one of the two vacant boxes. She had the air of a queen andgazed disdainfully at the whole house, as if to say, "I've come laterthan all of you, you crowd of upstarts and provincials, I've come laterthan you!" There are persons who go to the theater like the contestantsin a mule-race: the last one in, wins, and we know very sensible menwho would ascend the scaffold rather than enter a theater before thefirst act. But the lady's triumph was of short duration--she caughtsight of the other box that was still empty, and began to scold herbetter half, thus starting such a disturbance that many were annoyed. 

"Ssh! Ssh!"

"The blockheads! As if they understood French!" remarked the lady, gazing with supreme disdain in all directions, finally fixing herattention on Juanito's box, whence she thought she had heard animpudent hiss. 

Juanito was in fact guilty, for he had been pretending to understandeverything, holding himself up proudly and applauding at times asthough nothing that was said escaped him, and this too without guidinghimself by the actors' pantomime, because he scarcely looked towardthe stage. The rogue had intentionally remarked to Paulita that, as there was so much more beautiful a woman close at hand, he didnot care to strain his eyes looking beyond her. Paulita had blushed, covered her face with her fan, and glanced stealthily toward whereIsagani, silent and morose, was abstractedly watching the show. 

Paulita felt nettled and jealous. Would Isagani fall in love withany of those alluring actresses? The thought put her in a bad humor, so she scarcely heard the praises that Doña Victorina was heapingupon her own favorite. 

Juanito was playing his part well: he shook his head at times in signof disapproval, and then there could be heard coughs and murmurs insome parts, at other times he smiled in approbation, and a second laterapplause resounded. Doña Victorina was charmed, even conceiving somevague ideas of marrying the young man the day Don Tiburcio shoulddie--Juanito knew French and De Espadaña didn't! Then she began toflatter him, nor did he perceive the change in the drift of her talk, so occupied was he in watching a Catalan merchant who was sittingnext to the Swiss consul. Having observed that they were conversing inFrench, Juanito was getting his inspiration from their countenances, and thus grandly giving the cue to those about him. 

Scene followed scene, character succeeded character, comic andridiculous like the bailiff and Grenicheux, imposing and winsome likethe marquis and Germaine. The audience laughed heartily at the slapdelivered by Gaspard and intended for the coward Grenicheux, which wasreceived by the grave bailiff, whose wig went flying through the air, producing disorder and confusion as the curtain dropped. 

"Where's the cancan?" inquired Tadeo. 

But the curtain rose again immediately, revealing a scene in a servantmarket, with three posts on which were affixed signs bearing theannouncements: _servantes_, _cochers_, and _domestiques_. Juanito, toimprove the opportunity, turned to Doña Victorina and said in a loudvoice, so that Paulita might hear and he convinced of his learning:

"_Servantes_ means servants, _domestiques_ domestics. "

"And in what way do the _servantes_ differ from the_domestiques_?" asked Paulita. 

Juanito was not found wanting. "_Domestiques_ are those that aredomesticated--haven't you noticed that some of them have the air ofsavages? Those are the _servantes_. "

"That's right, " added Doña Victorina, "some have very bad manners--andyet I thought that in Europe everybody was cultivated. But as ithappens in France, --well, I see!"

"Ssh! Ssh!"

But what was Juanito's predicament when the time came for the openingof the market and the beginning of the sale, and the servants who wereto be hired placed themselves beside the signs that indicated theirclass! The men, some ten or twelve rough characters in livery, carryingbranches in their hands, took their place under the sign _domestiques_!

"Those are the domestics, " explained Juanito. 

"Really, they have the appearance of being only recently domesticated, "observed Doña Victorina. "Now let's have a look at the savages. "

Then the dozen girls headed by the lively and merry Serpolette, deckedout in their best clothes, each wearing a big bouquet of flowers atthe waist, laughing, smiling, fresh and attractive, placed themselves, to Juanito's great desperation, beside the post of the _servantes_. 

"How's this?" asked Paulita guilelessly. "Are those the savages thatyou spoke of?"

"No, " replied the imperturbable Juanito, "there's a mistake--they'vegot their places mixed--those coming behind--"

"Those with the whips?"

Juanito nodded assent, but he was rather perplexed and uneasy. 

"So those girls are the _cochers_?"

Here Juanito was attacked by such a violent fit of coughing that someof the spectators became annoyed. 

"Put him out! Put the consumptive out!" called a voice. 

Consumptive! To be called a consumptive before Paulita! Juanitowanted to find the blackguard and make him swallow that"consumptive. " Observing that the women were trying to hold him back, his bravado increased, and he became more conspicuously ferocious. Butfortunately it was Don Custodio who had made the diagnosis, and he, fearful of attracting attention to himself, pretended to hear nothing, apparently busy with his criticism of the play. 

"If it weren't that I am with you, " remarked Juanito, rolling hiseyes like some dolls that are moved by clockwork, and to make theresemblance more real he stuck out his tongue occasionally. 

Thus that night he acquired in Doña Victorina's eyes the reputationof being brave and punctilious, so she decided in her heart thatshe would marry him just as soon as Don Tiburcio was out of theway. Paulita became sadder and sadder in thinking about how the girlscalled _cochers_ could occupy Isagani's attention, for the name hadcertain disagreeable associations that came from the slang of herconvent school-days. 

At length the first act was concluded, the marquis taking away asservants Serpolette and Germaine, the representative of timid beautyin the troupe, and for coachman the stupid Grenicheux. A burst ofapplause brought them out again holding hands, those who five secondsbefore had been tormenting one another and were about to come to blows, bowing and smiling here and there to the gallant Manila public andexchanging knowing looks with various spectators. 

While there prevailed the passing tumult occasioned by those whocrowded one another to get into the greenroom and felicitate theactresses and by those who were going to make calls on the ladies inthe boxes, some expressed their opinions of the play and the players. 

"Undoubtedly, Serpolette is the best, " said one with a knowing air. 

"I prefer Germaine, she's an ideal blonde. "

"But she hasn't any voice. "

"What do I care about the voice?"

"Well, for shape, the tall one. "

"Pshaw, " said Ben-Zayb, "not a one is worth a straw, not a one isan artist!"

Ben-Zayb was the critic for _El Grito de la Integridad_, and hisdisdainful air gave him great importance in the eyes of those whowere satisfied with so little. 

"Serpolette hasn't any voice, nor Germaine grace, nor is thatmusic, nor is it art, nor is it anything!" he concluded with markedcontempt. To set oneself up as a great critic there is nothing likeappearing to be discontented with everything. Besides, the managementhad sent only two seats for the newspaper staff. 

In the boxes curiosity was aroused as to who could be the possessorof the empty one, for that person, would surpass every one in chic, since he would be the last to arrive. The rumor started somewherethat it belonged to Simoun, and was confirmed: no one had seen thejeweler in the reserved seats, the greenroom, or anywhere else. 

"Yet I saw him this afternoon with Mr. Jouay, " some one said. "Hepresented a necklace to one of the actresses. "

"To which one?" asked some of the inquisitive ladies. 

"To the finest of all, the one who made eyes at his Excellency. "

This information was received with looks of intelligence, winks, exclamations of doubt, of confirmation, and half-uttered commentaries. 

"He's trying to play the Monte Cristo, " remarked a lady who pridedherself on being literary. 

"Or purveyor to the Palace!" added her escort, jealous of Simoun. 

In the students' box, Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani had remained, while Tadeo had gone to engage Don Custodio in conversation abouthis projects, and Makaraig to hold an interview with Pepay. 

"In no way, as I have observed to you before, friend Isagani, "declared Sandoval with violent gestures and a sonorous voice, sothat the ladies near the box, the daughters of the rich man who wasin debt to Tadeo, might hear him, "in no way does the French languagepossess the rich sonorousness or the varied and elegant cadence of theCastilian tongue. I cannot conceive, I cannot imagine, I cannot formany idea of French orators, and I doubt that they have ever had anyor can have any now in the strict construction of the term orator, because we must not confuse the name orator with the words babblerand charlatan, for these can exist in any country, in all the regionsof the inhabited world, among the cold and curt Englishmen as amongthe lively and impressionable Frenchmen. "

Thus he delivered a magnificent review of the nations, with hispoetical characterizations and most resounding epithets. Isagani noddedassent, with his thoughts fixed on Paulita, whom he had surprisedgazing at him with an expressive look which contained a wealth ofmeaning. He tried to divine what those eyes were expressing--thoseeyes that were so eloquent and not at all deceptive. 

"Now you who are a poet, a slave to rhyme and meter, a son of theMuses, " continued Sandoval, with an elegant wave of his hand, asthough he were saluting, on the horizon, the Nine Sisters, "do youcomprehend, can you conceive, how a language so harsh and unmusicalas French can give birth to poets of such gigantic stature as ourGarcilasos, our Herreras, our Esproncedas, our Calderons?"

"Nevertheless, " objected Pecson, "Victor Hugo--"

"Victor Hugo, my friend Pecson, if Victor Hugo is a poet, it isbecause he owes it to Spain, because it is an established fact, itis a matter beyond all doubt, a thing admitted even by the Frenchmenthemselves, so envious of Spain, that if Victor Hugo has genius, ifhe really is a poet, it is because his childhood was spent in Madrid;there he drank in his first impressions, there his brain was molded, there his imagination was colored, his heart modeled, and the mostbeautiful concepts of his mind born. And after all, who is VictorHugo? Is he to be compared at all with our modern--"

This peroration was cut short by the return of Makaraig with adespondent air and a bitter smile on his lips, carrying in his handa note, which he offered silently to Sandoval, who read:

 "MY DOVE: Your letter has reached me late, for I have already handed in my decision, and it has been approved. However, as if I had guessed your wish, I have decided the matter according to the desires of your protégés. I'll be at the theater and wait for you after the performance. 

 "Your duckling, "CUSTODINING. "

"How tender the man is!" exclaimed Tadeo with emotion. 

"Well?" said Sandoval. "I don't see anything wrong about this--quitethe reverse!"

"Yes, " rejoined Makaraig with his bitter smile, "decidedfavorably! I've just seen Padre Irene. "

"What does Padre Irene say?" inquired Pecson. 

"The same as Don Custodio, and the rascal still had the audacityto congratulate me. The Commission, which has taken as its own thedecision of the arbiter, approves the idea and felicitates the studentson their patriotism and their thirst for knowledge--"

"Well?"

"Only that, considering our duties--in short, it says that in orderthat the idea may not be lost, it concludes that the directionand execution of the plan should be placed in charge of one ofthe religious corporations, in case the Dominicans do not wish toincorporate the academy with the University. "

Exclamations of disappointment greeted the announcement. Isagani rose, but said nothing. 

"And in order that we may participate in the management of theacademy, " Makaraig went on, "we are intrusted with the collectionof contributions and dues, with the obligation of turning them overto the treasurer whom the corporation may designate, which treasurerwill issue us receipts. "

"Then we're tax-collectors!" remarked Tadeo. 

"Sandoval, " said Pecson, "there's the gauntlet--take it up!"

"Huh! That's not a gauntlet--from its odor it seems more like a sock. "

"The funniest, part of it, " Makaraig added, "is that Padre Irene hasadvised us to celebrate the event with a banquet or a torchlightprocession--a public demonstration of the students _en masse_ torender thanks to all the persons who have intervened in the affair. "

"Yes, after the blow, let's sing and give thanks. _Super fluminaBabylonis sedimus_!"

"Yes, a banquet like that of the convicts, " said Tadeo. 

"A banquet at which we all wear mourning and deliver funeral orations, "added Sandoval. 

"A serenade with the Marseillaise and funeral marches, " proposedIsagani. 

"No, gentlemen, " observed Pecson with his clownish grin, "to celebratethe event there's nothing like a banquet in a _pansitería_, servedby the Chinamen without camisas. I insist, without camisas!"

The sarcasm and grotesqueness of this idea won it ready acceptance, Sandoval being the first to applaud it, for he had long wished to seethe interior of one of those establishments which at night appearedto be so merry and cheerful. 

Just as the orchestra struck up for the second act, the young menarose and left the theater, to the scandal of the whole house. 

CHAPTER XXIII

A CORPSE

Simoun had not, in fact, gone to the theater. Already, at seven o'clockin the evening, he had left his house looking worried and gloomy. Hisservants saw him return twice, accompanied by different individuals, and at eight o'clock Makaraig encountered him pacing along CalleHospital near the nunnery of St. Clara, just when the bells of itschurch were ringing a funeral knell. At nine Camaroncocido saw himagain, in the neighborhood of the theater, speak with a person whoseemed to be a student, pay the latter's admission to the show, and again disappear among the shadows of the trees. 

"What is it to me?" again muttered Camaroncocido. "What do I get outof watching over the populace?"

Basilio, as Makaraig said, had not gone to the show. The poor student, after returning from San Diego, whither he had gone to ransom Juli, his future bride, from her servitude, had turned again to his studies, spending his time in the hospital, in studying, or in nursing CapitanTiago, whose affliction he was trying to cure. 

The invalid had become an intolerable character. During his bad spells, when he felt depressed from lack of opium, the doses of which Basiliowas trying to reduce, he would scold, mistreat, and abuse the boy, whobore it resignedly, conscious that he was doing good to one to whomhe owed so much, and yielded only in the last extremity. His viciousappetite satisfied, Capitan Tiago would fall into a good humor, becometender, and call him his son, tearfully recalling the youth's services, how well he administered the estates, and would even talk of making himhis heir. Basilio would smile bitterly and reflect that in this worldcomplaisance with vice is rewarded better than fulfilment of duty. Nota few times did he feel tempted to give free rein to the craving andconduct his benefactor to the grave by a path of flowers and smilingillusions rather than lengthen his life along a road of sacrifice. 

"What a fool I am!" he often said to himself. "People are stupid andthen pay for it. "

But he would shake his head as he thought of Juli, of the widefuture before him. He counted upon living without a stain on hisconscience, so he continued the treatment prescribed, and boreeverything patiently. 

Yet with all his care the sick man, except for short periods ofimprovement, grew worse. Basilio had planned gradually to reducethe amount of the dose, or at least not to let him injure himselfby increasing it, but on returning from the hospital or some visithe would find his patient in the heavy slumber produced by the opium, driveling, pale as a corpse. The young man could not explain whence thedrug came: the only two persons who visited the house were Simoun andPadre Irene, the former rarely, while the latter never ceased exhortinghim to be severe and inexorable with the treatment, to take no noticeof the invalid's ravings, for the main object was to save him. 

"Do your duty, young man, " was Padre Irene's constant admonition. "Doyour duty. " Then he would deliver a sermon on this topic with suchgreat conviction and enthusiasm that Basilio would begin to feelkindly toward the preacher. Besides, Padre Irene promised to get him afine assignment, a good province, and even hinted at the possibilityof having him appointed a professor. Without being carried away byillusions, Basilio pretended to believe in them and went on obeyingthe dictates of his own conscience. 

That night, while _Les Cloches de Corneville_ was being presented, Basilio was studying at an old table by the light of an oil-lamp, whosethick glass globe partly illuminated his melancholy features. An oldskull, some human bones, and a few books carefully arranged coveredthe table, whereon there was also a pan of water with a sponge. Thesmell of opium that proceeded from the adjoining bedroom made theair heavy and inclined him to sleep, but he overcame the desire bybathing his temples and eyes from time to time, determined not to goto sleep until he had finished the book, which he had borrowed andmust return as soon as possible. It was a volume of the _MedicinaLegal y Toxicología_ of Dr. Friata, the only book that the professorwould use, and Basilio lacked money to buy a copy, since, underthe pretext of its being forbidden by the censor in Manila and thenecessity for bribing many government employees to get it in, thebooksellers charged a high price for it. 

So absorbed wras the youth in his studies that he had not given anyattention at all to some pamphlets that had been sent to him fromsome unknown source, pamphlets that treated of the Philippines, amongwhich figured those that were attracting the greatest notice at thetime because of their harsh and insulting manner of referring to thenatives of the country. Basilio had no time to open them, and he wasperhaps restrained also by the thought that there is nothing pleasantabout receiving an insult or a provocation without having any meansof replying or defending oneself. The censorship, in fact, permittedinsults to the Filipinos but prohibited replies on their part. 

In the midst of the silence that reigned in the house, broken only bya feeble snore that issued now and then from the adjoining bedroom, Basilio heard light footfalls on the stairs, footfalls that sooncrossed the hallway and approached the room where he was. Raisinghis head, he saw the door open and to his great surprise appearedthe sinister figure of the jeweler Simoun, who since the scene inSan Diego had not come to visit either himself or Capitan Tiago. 

"How is the sick man?" he inquired, throwing a rapid glance about theroom and fixing his attention on the pamphlets, the leaves of whichwere still uncut. 

"The beating of his heart is scarcely perceptible, his pulse is veryweak, his appetite entirely gone, " replied Basilio in a low voicewith a sad smile. "He sweats profusely in the early morning. "

Noticing that Simoun kept his face turned toward the pamphlets andfearing that he might reopen the subject of their conversation inthe wood, he went on: "His system is saturated with poison. He maydie any day, as though struck by lightning. The least irritation, any excitement may kill him. "

"Like the Philippines!" observed Simoun lugubriously. 

Basilio was unable to refrain from a gesture of impatience, but hewas determined not to recur to the old subject, so he proceeded as ifhe had heard nothing: "What weakens him the most is the nightmares, his terrors--"

"Like the government!" again interrupted Simoun. 

"Several nights ago he awoke in the dark and thought that he hadgone blind. He raised a disturbance, lamenting and scolding me, saying that I had put his eyes out. When I entered his room with alight he mistook me for Padre Irene and called me his saviour. "

"Like the government, exactly!"

"Last night, " continued Basilio, paying no attention, "he got upbegging for his favorite game-cock, the one that died three yearsago, and I had to give him a chicken. Then he heaped blessings uponme and promised me many thousands--"

At that instant a clock struck half-past ten. Simoun shuddered andstopped the youth with a gesture. 

"Basilio, " he said in a low, tense voice, "listen to me carefully, for the moments are precious. I see that you haven't opened thepamphlets that I sent you. You're not interested in your country. "

The youth started to protest. 

"It's useless, " went on Simoun dryly. "Within an hour the revolutionis going to break out at a signal from me, and tomorrow there'llbe no studies, there'll be no University, there'll be nothing butfighting and butchery. I have everything ready and my success isassured. When we triumph, all those who could have helped us and didnot do so will be treated as enemies. Basilio, I've come to offeryou death or a future!"

"Death or a future!" the boy echoed, as though he did not understand. 

"With us or with the government, " rejoined Simoun. "With your countryor with your oppressors. Decide, for time presses! I've come to saveyou because of the memories that unite us!"

"With my country or with the oppressors!" repeated Basilio in a lowtone. The youth was stupefied. He gazed at the jeweler with eyesin which terror was reflected, he felt his limbs turn cold, while athousand confused ideas whirled about in his mind. He saw the streetsrunning blood, he heard the firing, he found himself among the dead andwounded, and by the peculiar force of his inclinations fancied himselfin an operator's blouse, cutting off legs and extracting bullets. 

"The will of the government is in my hands, " said Simoun. "I'vediverted and wasted its feeble strength and resources on foolishexpeditions, dazzling it with the plunder it might seize. Its headsare now in the theater, calm and unsuspecting, thinking of a nightof pleasure, but not one shall again repose upon a pillow. I havemen and regiments at my disposition: some I have led to believe thatthe uprising is ordered by the General; others that the friars arebringing it about; some I have bought with promises, with employments, with money; many, very many, are acting from revenge, because they areoppressed and see it as a matter of killing or being killed. CabesangTales is below, he has come with me here! Again I ask you--will youcome with us or do you prefer to expose yourself to the resentmentof my followers? In critical moments, to declare oneself neutral isto be exposed to the wrath of both the contending parties. "

Basilio rubbed his hand over his face several times, as if he weretrying to wake from a nightmare. He felt that his brow was cold. 

"Decide!" repeated Simoun. 

"And what--what would I have to do?" asked the youth in a weak andbroken voice. 

"A very simple thing, " replied Simoun, his face lighting up with aray of hope. "As I have to direct the movement, I cannot get away fromthe scene of action. I want you, while the attention of the whole cityis directed elsewhere, at the head of a company to force the doors ofthe nunnery of St. Clara and take from there a person whom only you, besides myself and Capitan Tiago, can recognize. You'll run no riskat all. "

"Maria Clara!" exclaimed Basilio. 

"Yes, Maria Clara, " repeated Simoun, and for the first time his voicebecame human and compassionate. "I want to save her; to save her Ihave wished to live, I have returned. I am starting the revolution, because only a revolution can open the doors of the nunneries. "

"Ay!" sighed Basilio, clasping his hands. "You've come late, too late!"

"Why?" inquired Simoun with a frown. 

"Maria Clara is dead!"

Simoun arose with a bound and stood over the youth. "She's dead?" hedemanded in a terrible voice. 

"This afternoon, at six. By now she must be--"

"It's a lie!" roared Simoun, pale and beside himself. "It'sfalse! Maria Clara lives, Maria Clara must live! It's a cowardlyexcuse! She's not dead, and this night I'll free her or tomorrowyou die!"

Basilio shrugged his shoulders. "Several days ago she was taken illand I went to the nunnery for news of her. Look, here is Padre Salvi'sletter, brought by Padre Irene. Capitan Tiago wept all the evening, kissing his daughter's picture and begging her forgiveness, until atlast he smoked an enormous quantity of opium. This evening her knellwas tolled. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Simoun, pressing his hands to his head and standingmotionless. He remembered to have actually heard the knell while hewas pacing about in the vicinity of the nunnery. 

"Dead!" he murmured in a voice so low that it seemed to be a ghostwhispering. "Dead! Dead without my having seen her, dead withoutknowing that I lived for her--dead!"

Feeling a terrible storm, a tempest of whirlwind and thunder withouta drop of water, sobs without tears, cries without words, rage in hisbreast and threaten to burst out like burning lava long repressed, he rushed precipitately from the room. Basilio heard him descend thestairs with unsteady tread, stepping heavily, he heard a stifled cry, a cry that seemed to presage death, so solemn, deep, and sad thathe arose from his chair pale and trembling, but he could hear thefootsteps die away and the noisy closing of the door to the street. 

"Poor fellow!" he murmured, while his eyes filled with tears. Heedlessnow of his studies, he let his gaze wander into space as he ponderedover the fate of those two beings: he--young, rich, educated, masterof his fortunes, with a brilliant future before him; she--fair asa dream, pure, full of faith and innocence, nurtured amid love andlaughter, destined to a happy existence, to be adored in the familyand respected in the world; and yet of those two beings, filled withlove, with illusions and hopes, by a fatal destiny he wandered overthe world, dragged ceaselessly through a whirl of blood and tears, sowing evil instead of doing good, undoing virtue and encouraging vice, while she was dying in the mysterious shadows of the cloister whereshe had sought peace and perhaps found suffering, where she enteredpure and stainless and expired like a crushed flower!

Sleep in peace, ill-starred daughter of my hapless fatherland! Buryin the grave the enchantments of youth, faded in their prime! When apeople cannot offer its daughters a tranquil home under the protectionof sacred liberty, when a man can only leave to his widow blushes, tears to his mother, and slavery to his children, you do well tocondemn yourself to perpetual chastity, stifling within you the germof a future generation accursed! Well for you that you have notto shudder in your grave, hearing the cries of those who groan indarkness, of those who feel that they have wings and yet are fettered, of those who are stifled from lack of liberty! Go, go with your poet'sdreams into the regions of the infinite, spirit of woman dim-shadowedin the moonlight's beam, whispered in the bending arches of thebamboo-brakes! Happy she who dies lamented, she who leaves in theheart that loves her a pure picture, a sacred remembrance, unspottedby the base passions engendered by the years! Go, we shall rememberyou! In the clear air of our native land, under its azure sky, abovethe billows of the lake set amid sapphire hills and emerald shores, in the crystal streams shaded by the bamboos, bordered by flowers, enlivened by the beetles and butterflies with their uncertain andwavering flight as though playing with the air, in the silence ofour forests, in the singing of our rivers, in the diamond showers ofour waterfalls, in the resplendent light of our moon, in the sighs ofthe night breeze, in all that may call up the vision of the beloved, we must eternally see you as we dreamed of you, fair, beautiful, radiant with hope, pure as the light, yet still sad and melancholyin the contemplation of our woes!

CHAPTER XXIV

DREAMS

 Amor, qué astro eres?

On the following day, Thursday, at the hour of sunset, Isaganiwas walking along the beautiful promenade of Maria Cristina in thedirection of the Malecon to keep an appointment which Paulita had thatmorning given him. The young man had no doubt that they were to talkabout what had happened on the previous night, and as he was determinedto ask for an explanation, and knew how proud and haughty she was, he foresaw an estrangement. In view of this eventuality he had broughtwith him the only two letters he had ever received from Paulita, twoscraps of paper, whereon were merely a few hurriedly written lineswith various blots, but in an even handwriting, things that did notprevent the enamored youth from preserving them with more solicitudethan if they had been the autographs of Sappho and the Muse Polyhymnia. 

This decision to sacrifice his love on the altar of dignity, theconsciousness of suffering in the discharge of duty, did not preventa profound melancholy from taking possession of Isagani and broughtback into his mind the beautiful days, and nights more beautifulstill, when they had whispered sweet nothings through the floweredgratings of the entresol, nothings that to the youth took on such acharacter of seriousness and importance that they seemed to him theonly matters worthy of meriting the attention of the most exalted humanunderstanding. He recalled the walks on moonlit nights, the fair, thedark December mornings after the mass of Nativity, the holy water thathe used to offer her, when she would thank him with a look chargedwith a whole epic of love, both of them trembling as their fingerstouched. Heavy sighs, like small rockets, issued from his breastand brought back to him all the verses, all the sayings of poets andwriters about the inconstancy of woman. Inwardly he cursed the creationof theaters, the French operetta, and vowed to get revenge on Pelaez atthe first opportunity. Everything about him appeared under the saddestand somberest colors: the bay, deserted and solitary, seemed moresolitary still on account of the few steamers that were anchored init; the sun was dying behind Mariveles without poetry or enchantment, without the capricious and richly tinted clouds of happier evenings;the Anda monument, in bad taste, mean and squat, without style, withoutgrandeur, looked like a lump of ice-cream or at best a chunk of cake;the people who were promenading along the Malecon, in spite of theircomplacent and contented air, appeared distant, haughty, and vain;mischievous and bad-mannered, the boys that played on the beach, skipping flat stones over the surface of the water or searching inthe sand for mollusks and crustaceans which they caught for the merefun of catching and killed without benefit to themselves; in short, even the eternal port works to which he had dedicated more than threeodes, looked to him absurd, ridiculous child's play. 

The port, ah, the port of Manila, a bastard that since its conceptionhad brought tears of humiliation and shame to all! If only after somany tears there were not being brought forth a useless abortion!

Abstractedly he saluted two Jesuits, former teachers of his, andscarcely noticed a tandem in which an American rode and excitedthe envy of the gallants who were in calesas only. Near the Andamonument he heard Ben-Zayb talking with another person aboutSimoun, learning that the latter had on the previous night beentaken suddenly ill, that he refused to see any one, even the veryaides of the General. "Yes!" exclaimed Isagani with a bitter smile, "for him attentions because he is rich. The soldiers return fromtheir expeditions sick and wounded, but no one visits them. "

Musing over these expeditions, over the fate of the poor soldiers, over the resistance offered by the islanders to the foreign yoke, hethought that, death for death, if that of the soldiers was gloriousbecause they were obeying orders, that of the islanders was sublimebecause they were defending their homes. [49]

"A strange destiny, that of some peoples!" he mused. "Because atraveler arrives at their shores, they lose their liberty and becomesubjects and slaves, not only of the traveler, not only of his heirs, but even of all his countrymen, and not for a generation, but forall time! A strange conception of justice! Such a state of affairsgives ample right to exterminate every foreigner as the most ferociousmonster that the sea can cast up!"

He reflected that those islanders, against whom his country was wagingwar, after all were guilty of no crime other than that of weakness. Thetravelers also arrived at the shores of other peoples, but findingthem strong made no display of their strange pretension. With alltheir weakness the spectacle they presented seemed beautiful to him, and the names of the enemies, whom the newspapers did not fail to callcowards and traitors, appeared glorious to him, as they succumbed withglory amid the ruins of their crude fortifications, with greater gloryeven than the ancient Trojan heroes, for those islanders had carriedaway no Philippine Helen! In his poetic enthusiasm he thought of theyoung men of those islands who could cover themselves with glory inthe eyes of their women, and in his amorous desperation he enviedthem because they could find a brilliant suicide. 

"Ah, I should like to die, " he exclaimed, "be reduced to nothingness, leave to my native land a glorious name, perish in its cause, defendingit from foreign invasion, and then let the sun afterwards illuminemy corpse, like a motionless sentinel on the rocks of the sea!"

The conflict with the Germans [50] came into his mind and he almostfelt sorry that it had been adjusted: he would gladly have died forthe Spanish-Filipino banner before submitting to the foreigner. 

"Because, after all, " he mused, "with Spain we are united by firmbonds--the past, history, religion, language--"

Language, yes, language! A sarcastic smile curled his lips. That verynight they would hold a banquet in the _pansitería_ to _celebrate_the demise of the academy of Castilian. 

"Ay!" he sighed, "provided the liberals in Spain are like those wehave here, in a little while the mother country will be able to countthe number of the faithful!"

Slowly the night descended, and with it melancholy settled more heavilyupon the heart of the young man, who had almost lost hope of seeingPaulita. The promenaders one by one left the Malecon for the Luneta, the music from which was borne to him in snatches of melodies on thefresh evening breeze; the sailors on a warship anchored in the riverperformed their evening drill, skipping about among the slender ropeslike spiders; the boats one by one lighted their lamps, thus givingsigns of life; while the beach, Do el viento riza las calladas olas Que con blando murmullo en la ribera Se deslizan veloces por sí solas. [51]

as Alaejos says, exhaled in the distance thin, vapors that the moon, now at its full, gradually converted into mysterious transparent gauze. 

A distant sound became audible, a noise that rapidlyapproached. Isagani turned his head and his heart began to beatviolently. A carriage was coming, drawn by white horses, the whitehorses that he would know among a hundred thousand. In the carriagerode Paulita and her friend of the night before, with Doña Victorina. 

Before the young man could take a step, Paulita had leaped to theground with sylph-like agility and smiled at him with a smile full ofconciliation. He smiled in return, and it seemed to him that all theclouds, all the black thoughts that before had beset him, vanishedlike smoke, the sky lighted up, the breeze sang, flowers covered thegrass by the roadside. But unfortunately Doña Victorina was there andshe pounced upon the young man to ask him for news of Don Tiburcio, since Isagani had undertaken to discover his hiding-place by inquiryamong the students he knew. 

"No one has been able to tell me up to now, " he answered, and he wastelling the truth, for Don Tiburcio was really hidden in the houseof the youth's own uncle, Padre Florentino. 

"Let him know, " declared Doña Victorina furiously, "that I'll call inthe Civil Guard. Alive or dead, I want to know where he is--becauseone has to wait ten years before marrying again. "

Isagani gazed at her in fright--Doña Victorina was thinking ofremarrying! Who could the unfortunate be?

"What do you think of Juanito Pelaez?" she asked him suddenly. 

Juanito! Isagani knew not what to reply. He was tempted to tell allthe evil he knew of Pelaez, but a feeling of delicacy triumphed in hisheart and he spoke well of his rival, for the very reason that he wassuch. Doña Victorina, entirely satisfied and becoming enthusiastic, then broke out into exaggerations of Pelaez's merits and was alreadygoing to make Isagani a confidant of her new passion when Paulita'sfriend came running to say that the former's fan had fallen amongthe stones of the beach, near the Malecon. Stratagem or accident, thefact is that this mischance gave an excuse for the friend to remainwith the old woman, while Isagani might talk with Paulita. Moreover, it was a matter of rejoicing to Doña Victorina, since to get Juanitofor herself she was favoring Isagani's love. 

Paulita had her plan ready. On thanking him she assumed the role ofthe offended party, showed resentment, and gave him to understand thatshe was surprised to meet him there when everybody was on the Luneta, even the French actresses. 

"You made the appointment for me, how could I be elsewhere?"

"Yet last night you did not even notice that I was in the theater. Iwas watching you all the time and you never took your eyes off those_cochers_. "

So they exchanged parts: Isagani, who had come to demand explanations, found himself compelled to give them and considered himself very happywhen Paulita said that she forgave him. In regard to her presenceat the theater, he even had to thank her for that: forced by heraunt, she had decided to go in the hope of seeing him during theperformance. Little she cared for Juanito Pelaez!

"My aunt's the one who is in love with him, " she said with a merrylaugh. 

Then they both laughed, for the marriage of Pelaez with Doña Victorinamade them really happy, and they saw it already an accomplishedfact, until Isagani remembered that Don Tiburcio was still living andconfided the secret to his sweetheart, after exacting her promise thatshe would tell no one. Paulita promised, with the mental reservationof relating it to her friend. 

This led the conversation to Isagani's town, surrounded by forests, situated on the shore of the sea which roared at the base of thehigh cliffs. Isagani's gaze lighted up when he spoke of that obscurespot, a flush of pride overspread his cheeks, his voice trembled, his poetic imagination glowed, his words poured forth burning, charged with enthusiasm, as if he were talking of love to his love, and he could not but exclaim:

"Oh, in the solitude of my mountains I feel free, free as the air, as the light that shoots unbridled through space! A thousand cities, athousand palaces, would I give for that spot in the Philippines, where, far from men, I could feel myself to have genuine liberty. There, face to face with nature, in the presence of the mysterious and theinfinite, the forest and the sea, I think, speak, and work like aman who knows not tyrants. "

In the presence of such enthusiasm for his native place, an enthusiasmthat she did not comprehend, for she was accustomed to hear her countryspoken ill of, and sometimes joined in the chorus herself, Paulitamanifested some jealousy, as usual making herself the offended party. 

But Isagani very quickly pacified her. "Yes, " he said, "I loved itabove all things before I knew you! It was my delight to wander throughthe thickets, to sleep in the shade of the trees, to seat myself upona cliff to take in with my gaze the Pacific which rolled its bluewaves before me, bringing to me echoes of songs learned on the shoresof free America. Before knowing you, that sea was for me my world, my delight, my love, my dream! When it slept in calm with the sunshining overhead, it was my delight to gaze into the abyss hundredsof feet below me, seeking monsters in the forests of madrepores andcoral that were revealed through the limpid blue, enormous serpentsthat the country folk say leave the forests to dwell in the sea, andthere take on frightful forms. Evening, they say, is the time whenthe sirens appear, and I saw them between the waves--so great wasmy eagerness that once I thought I could discern them amid the foam, busy in their divine sports, I distinctly heard their songs, songs ofliberty, and I made out the sounds of their silvery harps. FormerlyI spent hours and hours watching the transformations in the clouds, or gazing at a solitary tree in the plain or a high rock, withoutknowing why, without being able to explain the vague feelings theyawoke in me. My uncle used to preach long sermons to me, and fearingthat I would become a hypochondriac, talked of placing me undera doctor's care. But I met you, I loved you, and during the lastvacation it seemed that something was lacking there, the forest wasgloomy, sad the river that glides through the shadows, dreary the sea, deserted the sky. Ah, if you should go there once, if your feet shouldpress those paths, if you should stir the waters of the rivulet withyour fingers, if you should gaze upon the sea, sit upon the cliff, or make the air ring with your melodious songs, my forest would betransformed into an Eden, the ripples of the brook would sing, lightwould burst from the dark leaves, into diamonds would be convertedthe dewdrops and into pearls the foam of the sea. "

But Paulita had heard that to reach Isagani's home it was necessaryto cross mountains where little leeches abounded, and at the merethought of them the little coward shivered convulsively. Humored andpetted, she declared that she would travel only in a carriage or arailway train. 

Having now forgotten all his pessimism and seeing only thornlessroses about him, Isagani answered, "Within a short time all theislands are going to be crossed with networks of iron rails. 

 "'Por donde rápidas Y voladoras Locomotoras Corriendo irán, ' [52]

as some one said. Then the most beautiful spots of the islands willbe accessible to all. "

"Then, but when? When I'm an old woman?"

"Ah, you don't know what we can do in a few years, " replied theyouth. "You don't realize the energy and enthusiasm that are awakeningin the country after the sleep of centuries. Spain heeds us; our youngmen in Madrid are working day and night, dedicating to the fatherlandall their intelligence, all their time, all their strength. Generousvoices there are mingled with ours, statesmen who realize that thereis no better bond than community of thought and interest. Justice willbe meted out to us, and everything points to a brilliant future forall. It's true that we've just met with a slight rebuff, we students, but victory is rolling along the whole line, it is in the consciousnessof all! The traitorous repulse that we have suffered indicates thelast gasp, the final convulsions of the dying. Tomorrow we shall becitizens of the Philippines, whose destiny will be a glorious one, because it will be in loving hands. Ah, yes, the future is ours! Isee it rose-tinted, I see the movement that stirs the life of theseregions so long dead, lethargic. I see towns arise along the railroads, and factories everywhere, edifices like that of Mandaloyan! I hearthe steam hiss, the trains roar, the engines rattle! I see the smokerise--their heavy breathing; I smell the oil--the sweat of monstersbusy at incessant toil. This port, so slow and laborious of creation, this river where commerce is in its death agony, we shall see coveredwith masts, giving us an idea of the forests of Europe in winter. Thispure air, and these stones, now so clean, will be crowded with coal, with boxes and barrels, the products of human industry, but let itnot matter, for we shall move about rapidly in comfortable coaches toseek in the interior other air, other scenes on other shores, coolertemperatures on the slopes of the mountains. The warships of our navywill guard our coasts, the Spaniard and the Filipino will rival eachother in zeal to repel all foreign invasion, to defend our homes, andlet you bask in peace and smiles, loved and respected. Free from thesystem of exploitation, without hatred or distrust, the people willlabor because then labor will cease to be a despicable thing, it willno longer be servile, imposed upon a slave. Then the Spaniard willnot embitter his character with ridiculous pretensions of despotism, but with a frank look and a stout heart we shall extend our handsto one another, and commerce, industry, agriculture, the sciences, will develop under the mantle of liberty, with wise and just laws, as in prosperous England. " [53]

Paulita smiled dubiously and shook her head. "Dreams, dreams!" shesighed. "I've heard it said that you have many enemies. Aunt saysthat this country must always be enslaved. "

"Because your aunt is a fool, because she can't live withoutslaves! When she hasn't them she dreams of them in the future, and ifthey are not obtainable she forces them into her imagination. Trueit is that we have enemies, that there will be a struggle, but weshall conquer. The old system may convert the ruins of its castleinto formless barricades, but we will take them singing hymns ofliberty, in the light of the eyes of you women, to the applauseof your lovely hands. But do not be uneasy--the struggle will be apacific one. Enough that you spur us to zeal, that you awake in usnoble and elevated thoughts and encourage us to constancy, to heroism, with your affection for our reward. "

Paulita preserved her enigmatic smile and seemed thoughtful, as shegazed toward the river, patting her cheek lightly with her fan. "Butif you accomplish nothing?" she asked abstractedly. 

The question hurt Isagani. He fixed his eyes on his sweetheart, caught her lightly by the hand, and began: "Listen, if we accomplishnothing--"

He paused in doubt, then resumed: "You know how I love you, how Iadore you, you know that I feel myself a different creature whenyour gaze enfolds me, when I surprise in it the flash of love, but yet if we accomplish nothing, I would dream of another look ofyours and would die happy, because the light of pride could burnin your eyes when you pointed to my corpse and said to the world:'My love died fighting for the rights of my fatherland!' "

"Come home, child, you're going to catch cold, " screeched DoñaVictorina at that instant, and the voice brought them back toreality. It was time to return, and they kindly invited him toenter the carriage, an invitation which the young man did not givethem cause to repeat. As it was Paulita's carriage, naturally DoñaVictorina and the friend occupied the back seat, while the two loverssat on the smaller one in front. 

To ride in the same carriage, to have her at his side, to breatheher perfume, to rub against the silk of her dress, to see her pensivewith folded arms, lighted by the moon of the Philippines that lends tothe meanest things idealism and enchantment, were all dreams beyondIsagani's hopes! What wretches they who were returning alone on footand had to give way to the swift carriage! In the whole course of thedrive, along the beach and down the length of La Sabana, across theBridge of Spain, Isagani saw nothing but a sweet profile, gracefullyset off by beautiful hair, ending in an arching neck that lost itselfamid the gauzy piña. A diamond winked at him from the lobe of thelittle ear, like a star among silvery clouds. He heard faint echoesinquiring for Don Tiburcio de Espadaña, the name of Juanito Pelaez, but they sounded to him like distant bells, the confused noises heardin a dream. It was necessary to tell him that they had reached PlazaSanta Cruz. 

CHAPTER XXV

SMILES AND TEARS

The sala of the _Pansiteria Macanista de Buen Gusto_ [54] thatnight presented an extraordinary aspect. Fourteen young men of theprincipal islands of the archipelago, from the pure Indian (if therebe pure ones) to the Peninsular Spaniard, were met to hold the banquetadvised by Padre Irene in view of the happy solution of the affairabout instruction in Castilian. They had engaged all the tables forthemselves, ordered the lights to be increased, and had posted on thewall beside the landscapes and Chinese kakemonos this strange versicle:

"GLORY TO CUSTODIO FOR HIS CLEVERNESS AND PANSIT ON EABTH TO THEYOUTHS OF GOOD WILL. "

In a country where everything grotesque is covered with a mantleof seriousness, where many rise by the force of wind and hot air, in a country where the deeply serious and sincere may do damage onissuing from the heart and may cause trouble, probably this was thebest way to celebrate the ingenious inspiration of the illustriousDon Custodio. The mocked replied to the mockery with a laugh, to thegovernmental joke with a plate of _pansit_, and yet--!

They laughed and jested, but it could be seen that the merrimentwas forced. The laughter had a certain nervous ring, eyes flashed, and in more than one of these a tear glistened. Nevertheless, theseyoung men were cruel, they were unreasonable! It was not the firsttime that their most beautiful ideas had been so treated, that theirhopes had been defrauded with big words and small actions: beforethis Don Custodio there had been many, very many others. 

In the center of the room under the red lanterns were placed fourround tables, systematically arranged to form a square. Little woodenstools, equally round, served as seats. In the middle of each table, according to the practise of the establishment, were arranged foursmall colored plates with four pies on each one and four cups of tea, with the accompanying dishes, all of red porcelain. Before each seatwas a bottle and two glittering wine-glasses. 

Sandoval was curious and gazed about scrutinizing everything, tastingthe food, examining the pictures, reading the bill of fare. Theothers conversed on the topics of the day: about the French actresses, about the mysterious illness of Simoun, who, according to some, hadbeen found wounded in the street, while others averred that he hadattempted to commit suicide. As was natural, all lost themselves inconjectures. Tadeo gave his particular version, which according to himcame from a reliable source: Simoun had been assaulted by some unknownperson in the old Plaza Vivac, [55] the motive being revenge, in proofof which was the fact that Simoun himself refused to make the leastexplanation. From this they proceeded to talk of mysterious revenges, and naturally of monkish pranks, each one relating the exploits ofthe curate of his town. 

A notice in large black letters crowned the frieze of the room withthis warning:

 De esta fonda el cabecilla Al publico advierte Que nada dejen absolutamente Sobre alguna mesa ó silla. [56]

"What a notice!" exclaimed Sandoval. "As if he might have confidencein the police, eh? And what verses! Don Tiburcio converted into aquatrain--two feet, one longer than the other, between two crutches! IfIsagani sees them, he'll present them to his future aunt. "

"Here's Isagani!" called a voice from the stairway. The happy youthappeared radiant with joy, followed by two Chinese, without camisas, who carried on enormous waiters tureens that gave out an appetizingodor. Merry exclamations greeted them. 

Juanito Pelaez was missing, but the hour fixed had already passed, sothey sat down happily to the tables. Juanito was always unconventional. 

"If in his place we had invited Basilio, " said Tadeo, "we should havebeen better entertained. We might have got him drunk and drawn somesecrets from him. "

"What, does the prudent Basilio possess secrets?"

"I should say so!" replied Tadeo. "Of the most important kind. Thereare some enigmas to which he alone has the key: the boy whodisappeared, the nun--"

"Gentlemen, the _pansit lang-lang_ is the soup _par excellence_!" criedMakaraig. "As you will observe, Sandoval, it is composed of vermicelli, crabs or shrimps, egg paste, scraps of chicken, and I don't knowwhat else. As first-fruits, let us offer the bones to Don Custodio, to see if he will project something with them. "

A burst of merry laughter greeted this sally. 

"If he should learn--"

"He'd come a-running!" concluded Sandoval. "This is excellentsoup--what is it called?"

"_Pansit lang-lang_, that is, Chinese _pansit_, to distinguish itfrom that which is peculiar to this country. "

"Bah! That's a hard name to remember. In honor of Don Custodio, I christen it the _soup project_!"

"Gentlemen, " said Makaraig, who had prepared the menu, "there arethree courses yet. Chinese stew made of pork--"

"Which should be dedicated to Padre Irene. "

"Get out! Padre Irene doesn't eat pork, unless he turns his nose away, "whispered a young man from Iloilo to his neighbor. 

"Let him turn his nose away!"

"Down with Padre Irene's nose, " cried several at once. 

"Respect, gentlemen, more respect!" demanded Pecson with comic gravity. 

"The third course is a lobster pie--"

"Which should be dedicated to the friars, " suggested he of the Visayas. 

"For the lobsters' sake, " added Sandoval. 

"Right, and call it friar pie!"

The whole crowd took this up, repeating in concert, "Friar pie!"

"I protest in the name of one of them, " said Isagani. 

"And I, in the name of the lobsters, " added Tadeo. 

"Respect, gentlemen, more respect!" again demanded Pecson with afull mouth. 

"The fourth is stewed _pansit_, which is dedicated--to the governmentand the country!"

All turned toward Makaraig, who went on: "Until recently, gentlemen, the _pansit_ was believed to be Chinese or Japanese, but thefact is that, being unknown in China or Japan, it would seem to beFilipino, yet those who prepare it and get the benefit from it are theChinese--the same, the very, very same that happens to the governmentand to the Philippines: they seem to be Chinese, but whether theyare or not, the Holy Mother has her doctors--all eat and enjoy it, yet characterize it as disagreeable and loathsome, the same as withthe country, the same as with the government. All live at its cost, all share in its feast, and afterwards there is no worse country thanthe Philippines, there is no government more imperfect. Let us thendedicate the _pansit_ to the country and to the government. "

"Agreed!" many exclaimed. 

"I protest!" cried Isagani. 

"Respect for the weaker, respect for the victims, " called Pecson ina hollow voice, waving a chicken-bone in the air. 

"Let's dedicate the _pansit_ to Quiroga the Chinaman, one of the fourpowers of the Filipino world, " proposed Isagani. 

"No, to his Black Eminence. "

"Silence!" cautioned one mysteriously. "There are people in the plazawatching us, and walls have ears. "

True it was that curious groups were standing by the windows, whilethe talk and laughter in the adjoining houses had ceased altogether, asif the people there were giving their attention to what was occurringat the banquet. There was something extraordinary about the silence. 

"Tadeo, deliver your speech, " Makaraig whispered to him. 

It had been agreed that Sandoval, who possessed the most oratoricalability, should deliver the last toast as a summing up. 

Tadeo, lazy as ever, had prepared nothing, so he found himself in aquandary. While disposing of a long string of vermicelli, he meditatedhow to get out of the difficulty, until he recalled a speech learnedin school and decided to plagiarize it, with adulterations. 

"Beloved brethren in project!" he began, gesticulating with twoChinese chop-sticks. 

"Brute! Keep that chop-stick out of my hair!" cried his neighbor. 

"Called by you to fill the void that has been left in--"

"Plagiarism!" Sandoval interrupted him. "That speech was deliveredby the president of our lyceum. "

"Called by your election, " continued the imperturbable Tadeo, "to fillthe void that has been left in my mind"--pointing to his stomach--"bya man famous for his Christian principles and for his inspirationsand projects, worthy of some little remembrance, what can one likemyself say of him, I who am very hungry, not having breakfasted?"

"Have a neck, my friend!" called a neighbor, offering that portionof a chicken. 

"There is one course, gentlemen, the treasure of a people who aretoday a tale and a mockery in the world, wherein have thrust theirhands the greatest gluttons of the western regions of the earth--"Here he pointed with his chopsticks to Sandoval, who was strugglingwith a refractory chicken-wing. 

"And eastern!" retorted the latter, describing a circle in the airwith his spoon, in order to include all the banqueters. 

"No interruptions!"

"I demand the floor!"

"I demand pickles!" added Isagani. 

"Bring on the stew!"

All echoed this request, so Tadeo sat down, contented with havinggot out of his quandary. 

The dish consecrated to Padre Irene did not appear to be extra good, as Sandoval cruelly demonstrated thus: "Shining with grease outsideand with pork inside! Bring on the third course, the friar pie!"

The pie was not yet ready, although the sizzling of the grease in thefrying-pan could be heard. They took advantage of the delay to drink, begging Pecson to talk. 

Pecson crossed himself gravely and arose, restraining his clownishlaugh with an effort, at the same time mimicking a certain Augustinianpreacher, then famous, and beginning in a murmur, as though he werereading a text. 

"_Si tripa plena laudal Deum, tripa famelica laudabit fratres_--ifthe full stomach praises God, the hungry stomach will praise thefriars. Words spoken by the Lord Custodio through the mouth ofBen-Zayb, in the journal _El Grito de la Integridad_, the secondarticle, absurdity the one hundred and fifty-seventh. 

"Beloved brethren in Christ: Evil blows its foul breath overthe verdant shores of Frailandia, commonly called the PhilippineArchipelago. No day passes but the attack is renewed, but thereis heard some sarcasm against the reverend, venerable, infalliblecorporations, defenseless and unsupported. Allow me, brethren, onthis occasion to constitute myself a knight-errant to sally forth indefense of the unprotected, of the holy corporations that have rearedus, thus again confirming the saving idea of the adage--a full stomachpraises God, which is to say, a hungry stomach will praise the friars. "

"Bravo, bravo!"

"Listen, " said Isagani seriously, "I want you to understand that, speaking of friars, I respect one. "

Sandoval was getting merry, so he began to sing a shady couplet aboutthe friars. 

"Hear me, brethren!" continued Pecson. "Turn your gaze toward thehappy days of your infancy, endeavor to analyze the present and askyourselves about the future. What do you find? Friars, friars, andfriars! A friar baptized you, confirmed you, visited you in schoolwith loving zeal; a friar heard your first secret; he was the first tobring you into communion with God, to set your feet upon the pathwayof life; friars were your first and friars will be your last teachers;a friar it is who opens the hearts of your sweethearts, disposingthem to heed your sighs; a friar marries you, makes you travel overdifferent islands to afford you changes of climate and diversion; hewill attend your death-bed, and even though you mount the scaffold, there will the friar be to accompany you with his prayers and tears, and you may rest assured that he will not desert you until he sees youthoroughly dead. Nor does his charity end there--dead, he will thenendeavor to bury you with all pomp, he will fight that your corpsepass through the church to receive his supplications, and he will onlyrest satisfied when he can deliver you into the hands of the Creator, purified here on earth, thanks to temporal punishments, tortures, andhumiliations. Learned in the doctrines of Christ, who closes heavenagainst the rich, they, our redeemers and genuine ministers of theSaviour, seek every means to lift away our sins and bear them far, far off, there where the accursed Chinese and Protestants dwell, to leave us this air, limpid, pure, healthful, in such a way thateven should we so wish afterwards, we could not find a real to bringabout our condemnation. 

"If, then, their existence is necessary to our happiness, if wheresoever we turn we must encounter their delicate hands, hungering for kisses, that every day smooth the marks of abuse fromour countenances, why not adore them and fatten them--why demand theirimpolitic expulsion? Consider for a moment the immense void thattheir absence would leave in our social system. Tireless workers, they improve and propagate the races! Divided as we are, thanksto our jealousies and our susceptibilities, the friars unite us ina common lot, in a firm bond, so firm that many are unable to movetheir elbows. Take away the friar, gentlemen, and you will see how thePhilippine edifice will totter; lacking robust shoulders and hairylimbs to sustain it, Philippine life will again become monotonous, without the merry note of the playful and gracious friar, withoutthe booklets and sermons that split our sides with laughter, withoutthe amusing contrast between grand pretensions and small brains, without the actual, daily representations of the tales of Boccaccioand La Fontaine! Without the girdles and scapularies, what would youhave our women do in the future--save that money and perhaps becomemiserly and covetous? Without the masses, novenaries, and processions, where will you find games of _panguingui_ to entertain them in theirhours of leisure? They would then have to devote themselves to theirhousehold duties and instead of reading diverting stories of miracles, we should then have to get them works that are not extant. 

"Take away the friar and heroism will disappear, the political virtueswill fall under the control of the vulgar. Take him away and the Indianwill cease to exist, for the friar is the Father, the Indian is theWord! The former is the sculptor, the latter the statue, because allthat we are, think, or do, we owe to the friar--to his patience, his toil, his perseverance of three centuries to modify the formNature gave us. The Philippines without the friar and without theIndian--what then would become of the unfortunate government in thehands of the Chinamen?"

"It will eat lobster pie, " suggested Isagani, whom Pecson's speechbored. 

"And that's what we ought to be doing. Enough of speeches!"

As the Chinese who should have served the courses did not put in hisappearance, one of the students arose and went to the rear, towardthe balcony that overlooked the river. But he returned at once, making mysterious signs. 

"We're watched! I've seen Padre Sibyla's pet!"

"Yes?" ejaculated Isagani, rising. 

"It's no use now. When he saw me he disappeared. "

Approaching the window he looked toward the plaza, then made signs tohis companions to come nearer. They saw a young man leave the door ofthe _pansitería_, gaze all about him, then with some unknown personenter a carriage that waited at the curb. It was Simoun's carriage. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Makaraig. "The slave of the Vice-Rector attended bythe Master of the General!"

CHAPTER XXVI

PASQUINADES

Very early the next morning Basilio arose to go to the hospital. Hehad his plans made: to visit his patients, to go afterwards to theUniversity to see about his licentiateship, and then have an interviewwith Makaraig about the expense this would entail, for he had used upthe greater part of his savings in ransoming Juli and in securing ahouse where she and her grandfather might live, and he had not daredto apply to Capitan Tiago, fearing that such a move would be construedas an advance on the legacy so often promised him. 

Preoccupied with these thoughts, he paid no attention to the groupsof students who were at such an early hour returning from the WalledCity, as though the classrooms had been closed, nor did he even notethe abstracted air of some of them, their whispered conversations, or the mysterious signals exchanged among them. So it was that whenhe reached San Juan de Dios and his friends asked him about theconspiracy, he gave a start, remembering what Simoun had planned, but which had miscarried, owing to the unexplained accident to thejeweler. Terrified, he asked in a trembling voice, at the same timeendeavoring to feign ignorance, "Ah, yes, what conspiracy?"

"It's been discovered, " replied one, "and it seems that many areimplicated in it. "

With an effort Basilio controlled himself. "Many implicated?" heechoed, trying to learn something from the looks of the others. "Who?"

"Students, a lot of students. "

Basilio did not think it prudent to ask more, fearing that he wouldgive himself away, so on the pretext of visiting his patients he leftthe group. One of the clinical professors met him and placing his handmysteriously on the youth's shoulder--the professor was a friend ofhis--asked him in a low voice, "Were you at that supper last night?"

In his excited frame of mind Basilio thought the professor hadsaid _night before last_, which was the time of his interview withSimoun. He tried to explain. "I assure you, " he stammered, "that asCapitan Tiago was worse--and besides I had to finish that book--"

"You did well not to attend it, " said the professor. "But you're amember of the students' association?"

"I pay my dues. "

"Well then, a piece of advice: go home at once and destroy any papersyou have that may compromise you. "

Basilio shrugged his shoulders--he had no papers, nothing more thanhis clinical notes. 

"Has Señor Simoun--"

"Simoun has nothing to do with the affair, thank God!" interruptedthe physician. "He was opportunely wounded by some unknown hand andis now confined to his bed. No, other hands are concerned in this, but hands no less terrible. "

Basilio drew a breath of relief. Simoun was the only one who couldcompromise him, although he thought of Cabesang Tales. 

"Are there tulisanes--"

"No, man, nothing more than students. "

Basilio recovered his serenity. "What has happened then?" he madebold to ask. 

"Seditious pasquinades have been found; didn't you know about them?"

"Where?"

"In the University. "

"Nothing more than that?"

"Whew! What more do you want?" asked the professor, almost ina rage. "The pasquinades are attributed to the students of theassociation--but, keep quiet!"

The professor of pathology came along, a man who had more the lookof a sacristan than of a physician. Appointed by the powerful mandateof the Vice-Rector, without other merit than unconditional servilityto the corporation, he passed for a spy and an informer in the eyesof the rest of the faculty. 

The first professor returned his greeting coldly, and winked toBasilio, as he said to him, "Now I know that Capitan Tiago smells likea corpse--the crows and vultures have been gathering around him. " Sosaying, he went inside. 

Somewhat calmed, Basilio now ventured to inquire for more details, but all that he could learn was that pasquinades had been found onthe doors of the University, and that the Vice-Rector had orderedthem to be taken down and sent to the Civil Government. It was saidthat they were filled with threats of assassination, invasion, andother braggadocio. 

The students made their comments on the affair. Their informationcame from the janitor, who had it from a servant in Santo Tomas, who had it from an usher. They prognosticated future suspensions andimprisonments, even indicating who were to be the victims--naturallythe members of the association. 

Basilio then recalled Simoun's words: "The day in which they can getrid of you, you will not complete your course. "

"Could he have known anything?" he asked himself. "We'll see who isthe most powerful. "

Recovering his serenity, he went on toward the University, to learnwhat attitude it behooved him to take and at the same time to seeabout his licentiateship. He passed along Calle Legazpi, then downthrough Beaterio, and upon arriving at the corner of this streetand Calle Solana saw that something important must indeed havehappened. Instead of the former lively, chattering groups on thesidewalks were to be seen civil-guards making the students move on, and these latter issuing from the University silent, some gloomy, some agitated, to stand off at a distance or make their way home. 

The first acquaintance he met was Sandoval, but Basilio called to himin vain. He seemed to have been smitten deaf. "Effect of fear on thegastro-intestinal juices, " thought Basilio. 

Later he met Tadeo, who wore a Christmas face--at last that eternalholiday seemed to be realized. 

"What has happened, Tadeo?"

"We'll have no school, at least for a week, oldman! Sublime! Magnificent!" He rubbed his hands in glee. 

"But what has happened?"

"They're going to arrest all of us in the association. "

"And are you glad of that?"

"There'll be no school, there'll be no school!" He moved away almostbursting with joy. 

Basilio saw Juanito Pelaez approaching, pale and suspicious. Thistime his hump had reached its maximum, so great was his haste to getaway. He had been one of the most active promoters of the associationwhile things were running smoothly. 

"Eh, Pelaez, what's happened?"

"Nothing, I know nothing. I didn't have anything to do with it, "he responded nervously. "I was always telling you that these thingswere quixotisms. It's the truth, you know I've said so to you?"

Basilio did not remember whether he had said so or not, but to humorhim replied, "Yes, man, but what's happened?"

"It's the truth, isn't it? Look, you're a witness: I've always beenopposed--you're a witness, don't forget it!"

"Yes, man, but what's going on?"

"Listen, you're a witness! I've never had anything to do with themembers of the association, except to give them advice. You're notgoing to deny it now. Be careful, won't you?"

"No, no, I won't deny it, but for goodness' sake, what has happened?"

But Juanito was already far away. He had caught a glimpse of a guardapproaching and feared arrest. 

Basilio then went on toward the University to see if perhaps thesecretary's office might be open and if he could glean any furthernews. The office was closed, but there was an extraordinary commotionin the building. Hurrying up and down the stairways were friars, armyofficers, private persons, old lawyers and doctors, there doubtlessto offer their services to the endangered cause. 

At a distance he saw his friend Isagani, pale and agitated, but radiantwith youthful ardor, haranguing some fellow students with his voiceraised as though he cared little that he be heard by everybody. 

"It seems preposterous, gentlemen, it seems unreal, that an incident soinsignificant should scatter us and send us into flight like sparrowsat whom a scarecrow has been shaken! But is this the first time thatstudents have gone to prison for the sake of liberty? Where are thosewho have died, those who have been shot? Would you apostatize now?"

"But who can the fool be that wrote such pasquinades?" demanded anindignant listener. 

"What does that matter to us?" rejoined Isagani. "We don't haveto find out, let them find out! Before we know how they are drawnup, we have no need to make any show of agreement at a time likethis. There where the danger is, there must we hasten, because honoris there! If what the pasquinades say is compatible with our dignityand our feelings, be he who he may that wrote them, he has done well, and we ought to be grateful to him and hasten to add our signaturesto his! If they are unworthy of us, our conduct and our conscienceswill in themselves protest and defend us from every accusation!"

Upon hearing such talk, Basilio, although he liked Isagani verymuch, turned and left. He had to go to Makaraig's house to see aboutthe loan. 

Near the house of the wealthy student he observed whisperings andmysterious signals among the neighbors, but not comprehending whatthey meant, continued serenely on his way and entered the doorway. Twoguards advanced and asked him what he wanted. Basilio realized thathe had made a bad move, but he could not now retreat. 

"I've come to see my friend Makaraig, " he replied calmly. 

The guards looked at each other. "Wait here, " one of them said tohim. "Wait till the corporal comes down. "

Basilio bit his lips and Simoun's words again recurred to him. Hadthey come to arrest Makaraig?--was his thought, but he dared not giveit utterance. He did not have to wait long, for in a few momentsMakaraig came down, talking pleasantly with the corporal. The twowere preceded by a warrant officer. 

"What, you too, Basilio?" he asked. 

"I came to see you--"

"Noble conduct!" exclaimed Makaraig laughing. "In time of calm, you avoid us. "

The corporal asked Basilio his name, then scanned a list. "Medicalstudent, Calle Anloague?" he asked. 

Basilio bit his lip. 

"You've saved us a trip, " added the corporal, placing his hand onthe youth's shoulder. "You're under arrest!"

"What, I also?"

Makaraig burst out into laughter. 

"Don't worry, friend. Let's get into the carriage, while I tell youabout the supper last night. "

With a graceful gesture, as though he were in his own house, heinvited the warrant officer and the corporal to enter the carriagethat waited at the door. 

"To the Civil Government!" he ordered the cochero. 

Now that Basilio had again regained his composure, he told Makaraigthe object of his visit. The rich student did not wait for him tofinish, but seized his hand. "Count on me, count on me, and to thefestivities celebrating our graduation we'll invite these gentlemen, "he said, indicating the corporal and the warrant officer. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FRIAR AND THE FILIPINO

 Vox populi, vox Dei

We left Isagani haranguing his friends. In the midst of his enthusiasman usher approached him to say that Padre Fernandez, one of the higherprofessors, wished to talk with him. 

Isagani's face fell. Padre Fernandez was a person greatly respectedby him, being the _one_ always excepted by him whenever the friarswere attacked. 

"What does Padre Fernandez want?" he inquired. 

The usher shrugged his shoulders and Isagani reluctantly followed him. 

Padre Fernandez, the friar whom we met in Los Baños, was waitingin his cell, grave and sad, with his brows knitted as if he werein deep thought. He arose as Isagani entered, shook hands with him, and closed the door. Then he began to pace from one end of the roomto the other. Isagani stood waiting for him to speak. 

"Señor Isagani, " he began at length with some emotion, "from thewindow I've heard you speaking, for though I am a consumptive I havegood ears, and I want to talk with you. I have always liked the youngmen who express themselves clearly and have their own way of thinkingand acting, no matter that their ideas may differ from mine. Youyoung men, from what I have heard, had a supper last night. Don'texcuse yourself--"

"I don't intend to excuse myself!" interrupted Isagani. 

"So much the better--it shows that you accept the consequences of youractions. Besides, you would do ill in retracting, and I don't blameyou, I take no notice of what may have been said there last night, I don't accuse you, because after all you're free to say of theDominicans what seems best to you, you are not a pupil of ours--onlythis year have we had the pleasure of having you, and we shallprobably not have you longer. Don't think that I'm going to invokeconsiderations of gratitude; no, I'm not going to waste my time instupid vulgarisms. I've had you summoned here because I believe thatyou are one of the few students who act from conviction, and, as Ilike men of conviction, I'm going to explain myself to Señor Isagani. "

Padre Fernandez paused, then continued his walk with bowed head, his gaze riveted on the floor. 

"You may sit down, if you wish, " he remarked. "It's a habit of mineto walk about while talking, because my ideas come better then. "

Isagani remained standing, with his head erect, waiting for theprofessor to get to the point of the matter. 

"For more than eight years I have been a professor here, " resumedPadre Fernandez, still continuing to pace back and forth, "and inthat time I've known and dealt with more than twenty-five hundredstudents. I've taught them, I've tried to educate them, I've tried toinculcate in them principles of justice and of dignity, and yet inthese days when there is so much murmuring against us I've not seenone who has the temerity to maintain his accusations when he findshimself in the presence of a friar, not even aloud in the presenceof any numbers. Young men there are who behind our backs calumniateus and before us kiss our hands, with a base smile begging kind looksfrom us! Bah! What do you wish that we should do with such creatures?"

"The fault is not all theirs, Padre, " replied Isagani. "The faultlies partly with those who have taught them to be hypocrites, with those who have tyrannized over freedom of thought and freedomof speech. Here every independent thought, every word that is not anecho of the will of those in power, is characterized as filibusterism, and you know well enough what that means. A fool would he be who toplease himself would say aloud what he thinks, who would lay himselfliable to suffer persecution!"

"What persecution have you had to suffer?" asked Padre Fernandez, raising his head. "Haven't I let you express yourself freely in myclass? Nevertheless, you are an exception that, if what you say istrue, I must correct, so as to make the rule as general as possibleand thus avoid setting a bad example. "

Isagani smiled. "I thank you, but I will not discuss with you whetherI am an exception. I will accept your qualification so that youmay accept mine: you also are an exception, and as here we are notgoing to talk about exceptions, nor plead for ourselves, at least, I mean, _I'm not_, I beg of my _professor_ to change the course ofthe conversation. "

In spite of his liberal principles, Padre Fernandez raised his headand stared in surprise at Isagani. That young man was more independentthan he had thought--although he called him _professor_, in realityhe was dealing with him as an equal, since he allowed himself tooffer suggestions. Like a wise diplomat, Padre Fernandez not onlyrecognized the fact but even took his stand upon it. 

"Good enough!" he said. "But don't look upon me as your professor. I'ma friar and you are a Filipino student, nothing more nor less! NowI ask you--what do the Filipino students want of us?"

The question came as a surprise; Isagani was not prepared for it. Itwas a thrust made suddenly while they were preparing their defense, as they say in fencing. Thus startled, Isagani responded with aviolent stand, like a beginner defending himself. 

"That you do your duty!" he exclaimed. 

Fray Fernandez straightened up--that reply sounded to him like acannon-shot. "That we do our duty!" he repeated, holding himselferect. "Don't we, then, do our duty? What duties do you ascribe to us?"

"Those which you voluntarily placed upon yourselves on joiningthe order, and those which afterwards, once in it, you have beenwilling to assume. But, as a Filipino student, I don't think myselfcalled upon to examine your conduct with reference to your statutes, to Catholicism, to the government, to the Filipino people, and tohumanity in general--those are questions that you have to settlewith your founders, with the Pope, with the government, with thewhole people, and with God. As a Filipino student, I will confinemyself to your duties toward us. The friars in general, being thelocal supervisors of education in the provinces, and the Dominicansin particular, by monopolizing in their hands all the studies of theFilipino youth, have assumed the obligation to its eight millionsof inhabitants, to Spain, and to humanity, of which we form a part, of steadily bettering the young plant, morally and physically, of training it toward its happiness, of creating a people honest, prosperous, intelligent, virtuous, noble, and loyal. Now I ask youin my turn--have the friars fulfilled that obligation of theirs?"

"We're fulfilling--"

"Ah, Padre Fernandez, " interrupted Isagani, "you with your hand on_your_ heart can say that you are fulfilling it, but with your handon the heart of your order, on the heart of all the orders, you cannotsay that without deceiving yourself. Ah, Padre Fernandez, when I findmyself in the presence of a person whom I esteem and respect, I preferto be the accused rather than the accuser, I prefer to defend myselfrather than take the offensive. But now that we have entered uponthe discussion, let us carry it to the end! How do they fulfill theirobligation, those who look after education in the towns? By hinderingit! And those who here monopolize education, those who try to mold themind of youth, to the exclusion of all others whomsoever, how do theycarry out their mission? By curtailing knowledge as much as possible, by extinguishing all ardor and enthusiasm, by trampling on all dignity, the soul's only refuge, by inculcating in us worn-out ideas, rancidbeliefs, false principles incompatible with a life of progress! Ah, yes, when it is a question of feeding convicts, of providing for themaintenance of criminals, the government calls for bids in orderto find the purveyor who offers the best means of subsistence, he who at least will not let them perish from hunger, but when itis a question of morally feeding a whole people, of nourishing theintellect of youth, the healthiest part, that which is later to be thecountry and the all, the government not only does not ask for any bid, but restricts the power to that very body which makes a boast of notdesiring education, of wishing no advancement. What should we say ifthe purveyor for the prisons, after securing the contract by intrigue, should then leave the prisoners to languish in want, giving them onlywhat is stale and rancid, excusing himself afterwards by saying thatit is not convenient for the prisoners to enjoy good health, becausegood health brings merry thoughts, because merriment improves the man, and the man ought not to be improved, because it is to the purveyor'sinterest that there be many criminals? What should we say if afterwardsthe government and the purveyor should agree between themselves thatof the ten or twelve cuartos which one received for each criminal, the other should receive five?"

Padre Fernandek bit his lip. "Those are grave charges, " he said, "and you are overstepping the limits of our agreement. "

"No, Padre, not if I continue to deal with the student question. Thefriars--and I do not say, you friars, since I do not confuse youwith the common herd--the friars of all the orders have constitutedthemselves our mental purveyors, yet they say and shamelessly proclaimthat it is not expedient for us to become enlightened, because someday we shall declare ourselves free! That is just the same as notwishing the prisoner to be well-fed so that he may improve and get outof prison. Liberty is to man what education is to the intelligence, and the friars' unwillingness that we have it is the origin of ourdiscontent. "

"Instruction is given only to those who deserve it, " rejoined PadreFernandez dryly. "To give it to men without character and withoutmorality is to prostitute it. "

"Why are there men without character and without morality?"

The Dominican shrugged his shoulders. "Defects that they imbibe withtheir mothers' milk, that they breathe in the bosom of the family--howdo I know?"

"Ah, no, Padre Fernandez!" exclaimed the young man impetuously. "Youhave not dared to go into the subject deeply, you have not wishedto gaze into the depths from fear of finding yourself there in thedarkness of your brethren. What we are, you have made us. A peopletyrannized over is forced to be hypocritical; a people denied thetruth must resort to lies; and he who makes himself a tyrant breedsslaves. There is no morality, you say, so let it be--even thoughstatistics can refute you in that here are not committed crimeslike those among other peoples, blinded by the fumes of theirmoralizers. But, without attempting now to analyze what it is thatforms the character and how far the education received determinesmorality, I will agree with you that we are defective. Who is toblame for that? You who for three centuries and a half have had inyour hands our education, or we who submit to everything? If afterthree centuries and a half the artist has been able to produce onlya caricature, stupid indeed he must be!"

"Or bad enough the material he works upon. "

"Stupider still then, when, knowing it to be bad, he does not giveit up, but goes on wasting time. Not only is he stupid, but he isa cheat and a robber, because he knows that his work is useless, yet continues to draw his salary. Not only is he stupid and a thief, he is a villain in that he prevents any other workman from tryinghis skill to see if he might not produce something worth while! Thedeadly jealousy of the incompetent!"

The reply was sharp and Padre Fernandez felt himself caught. To hisgaze Isagani appeared gigantic, invincible, convincing, and for thefirst time in his life he felt beaten by a Filipino student. Herepented of having provoked the argument, but it was too late toturn back. In this quandary, finding himself confronted with sucha formidable adversary, he sought a strong shield and laid hold ofthe government. 

"You impute all the faults to us, because you see only us, who arenear, " he said in a less haughty tone. "It's natural and doesn'tsurprise me. A person hates the soldier or policeman who arrests himand not the judge who sends him to prison. You and we are both dancingto the same measure of music--if at the same note you lift your foot inunison with us, don't blame us for it, it's the music that is directingour movements. Do you think that we friars have no consciences andthat we do not desire what is right? Do you believe that we do notthink about you, that we do not heed our duty, that we only eat tolive, and live to rule? Would that it were so! But we, like you, follow the cadence, finding ourselves between Scylla and Charybdis:either you reject us or the government rejects us. The governmentcommands, and he who commands, commands, --and must be obeyed!"

"From which it may be inferred, " remarked Isagani with a bitter smile, "that the government wishes our demoralization. "

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that! What I meant to say is that there arebeliefs, there are theories, there are laws, which, dictated withthe best intention, produce the most deplorable consequences. I'llexplain myself better by citing an example. To stamp out a smallevil, there are dictated many laws that cause greater evils still:'_corruptissima in republica plurimae leges, _' said Tacitus. Toprevent one case of fraud, there are provided a million and a halfpreventive or humiliating regulations, which produce the immediateeffect of awakening in the public the desire to elude and mocksuch regulations. To make a people criminal, there's nothing moreneeded than to doubt its virtue. Enact a law, not only here, buteven in Spain, and you will see how the means of evading it will besought, and this is for the very reason that the legislators haveoverlooked the fact that the more an object is hidden, the more asight of it is desired. Why are rascality and astuteness regardedas great qualities in the Spanish people, when there is no other sonoble, so proud, so chivalrous as it? Because our legislators, withthe best intentions, have doubted its nobility, wounded its pride, challenged its chivalry! Do you wish to open in Spain a road among therocks? Then place there an imperative notice forbidding the passage, and the people, in order to protest against the order, will leave thehighway to clamber over the rocks. The day on which some legislator inSpain forbids virtue and commands vice, then all will become virtuous!"

The Dominican paused for a brief space, then resumed: "But you maysay that we are getting away from the subject, so I'll return toit. What I can say to you, to convince you, is that the vices fromwhich you suffer ought to be ascribed by you neither to us nor to thegovernment. They are due to the imperfect organization of our socialsystem: _qui multum probat, nihil probat_, one loses himself throughexcessive caution, lacking what is necessary and having too much ofwhat is superfluous. "

"If you admit those defects in your social system, " replied Isagani, "why then do you undertake to regulate alien societies, instead offirst devoting your attention to yourselves?"

"We're getting away from the subject, young man. The theory inaccomplished facts must be accepted. "

"So let it be! I accept it because it is an accomplished fact, butI will further ask: why, if your social organization is defective, do you not change it or at least give heed to the cry of those whoare injured by it?"

"We're still far away. Let's talk about what the students want fromthe friars. "

"From the moment when the friars hide themselves behind the government, the students have to turn to it. "

This statement was true and there appeared no means of ignoring it. 

"I'm not the government and I can't answer for its acts. What dothe students wish us to do for them within the limits by which weare confined?"

"Not to oppose the emancipation of education but to favor it. "

The Dominican shook his head. "Without stating my own opinion, thatis asking us to commit suicide, " he said. 

"On the contrary, it is asking you for room to pass in order not totrample upon and crush you. "

"Ahem!" coughed Padre Fernandez, stopping and remainingthoughtful. "Begin by asking something that does not cost so much, something that any one of us can grant without abatement of dignityor privilege, for if we can reach an understanding and dwell in peace, why this hatred, why this distrust?"

"Then let's get down to details. "

"Yes, because if we disturb the foundation, we'll bring down thewhole edifice. "

"Then let's get down to details, let's leave the region of abstractprinciples, " rejoined Isagani with a smile, "and _also without statingmy own opinion, _"--the youth accented these words--"the studentswould desist from their attitude and soften certain asperities ifthe professors would try to treat them better than they have up tothe present. That is in their hands. "

"What?" demanded the Dominican. "Have the students any complaint tomake about my conduct?"

"Padre, we agreed from the start not to talk of yourself or of myself, we're speaking generally. The students, besides getting no greatbenefit out of the years spent in the classes, often leave thereremnants of their dignity, if not the whole of it. "

Padre Fernandez again bit his lip. "No one forces them to study--thefields are uncultivated, " he observed dryly. 

"Yes, there is something that impels them to study, " replied Isaganiin the same tone, looking the Dominican full in the face. "Besidesthe duty of every one to seek his own perfection, there is the desireinnate in man to cultivate his intellect, a desire the more powerfulhere in that it is repressed. He who gives his gold and his life to theState has the right to require of it opporttmity better to get thatgold and better to care for his life. Yes, Padre, there is somethingthat impels them, and that something is the government itself. It isyou yourselves who pitilessly ridicule the uncultured Indian and denyhim his rights, on the ground that he is ignorant. You strip him andthen scoff at his nakedness. "

Padre Fernandez did not reply, but continued to pace about feverishly, as though very much agitated. 

"You say that the fields are not cultivated, " resumed Isagani in achanged tone, after a brief pause. "Let's not enter upon an analysisof the reason for this, because we should get far away. But you, Padre Fernandez, you, a teacher, you, a learned man, do you wish apeople of peons and laborers? In your opinion, is the laborer theperfect state at which man may arrive in his development? Or is itthat you wish knowledge for yourself and labor for the rest?"

"No, I want knowledge for him who deserves it, for him who knows howto use it, " was the reply. "When the students demonstrate that theylove it, when young men of conviction appear, young men who know howto maintain their dignity and make it respected, then there will beknowledge, then there will be considerate professors! If there arenow professors who resort to abuse, it is because there are pupilswho submit to it. "

"When there are professors, there will be students!"

"Begin by reforming yourselves, you who have need of change, and wewill follow. "

"Yes, " said Isagani with a bitter laugh, "let us begin it, becausethe difficulty is on our side. Well you know what is expected ofa pupil who stands before a professor--you yourself, with all yourlove of justice, with all your kind sentiments, have been restrainingyourself by a great effort while I have been telling you bitter truths, you yourself, Padre Fernandez! What good has been secured by him amongus who has tried to inculcate other ideas? What evils have not fallenupon you because you have tried to be just and perform your duty?"

"Señor Isagani, " said the Dominican, extending his hand, "although itmay seem that nothing practical has resulted from this conversation, yet something has been gained. I'll talk to my brethren about whatyou have told me and I hope that something can be done. Only I fearthat they won't believe in your existence. "

"I fear the same, " returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican's hand. "Ifear that my friends will not believe in your existence, as you haverevealed yourself to me today. " [57]

Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave. 

Padre Fernandez opened the door and followed him with his gaze untilhe disappeared around a corner in the corridor. For some time helistened to the retreating footsteps, then went back into his celland waited for the youth to appear in the street. 

He saw him and actually heard him say to a friend who asked where hewas going: "To the Civil Government! I'm going to see the pasquinadesand join the others!"

His startled friend stared at him as one would look at a person whois about to commit suicide, then moved away from him hurriedly. 

"Poor boy!" murmured Padre Fernandez, feeling his eyes moisten. "Igrudge you to the Jesuits who educated you. "

But Padre Fernandez was completely mistaken; the Jesuits repudiatedIsagani [58] when that afternoon they learned that he had beenarrested, saying that he would compromise them. "That young man hasthrown himself away, he's going to do us harm! Let it be understoodthat he didn't get those ideas here. "

Nor were the Jesuits wrong. No! Those ideas come only from God throughthe medium of Nature. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

TATAKUT

With prophetic inspiration Ben-Zayb had been for some days pastmaintaining in his newspaper that education was disastrous, verydisastrous for the Philippine Islands, and now in view of the events ofthat Friday of pasquinades, the writer crowed and chanted his triumph, leaving belittled and overwhelmed his adversary _Horatius_, who inthe _Pirotecnia_ had dared to ridicule him in the following manner:

 From our contemporary, _El Grito_:

 "Education is disastrous, very disastrous, for the Philippine Islands. "

 Admitted. 

 For some time _El Grito_ has pretended to represent the Filipino people--_ergo_, as Fray Ibañez would say, if he knew Latin. 

 But Fray Ibañez turns Mussulman when he writes, and we know how the Mussulmans dealt with education. _In witness whereof_, as a royal preacher said, the Alexandrian library!

Now he was right, he, Ben-Zayb! He was the only one in the islandswho thought, the only one who foresaw events!

Truly, the news that seditious pasquinades had been found on thedoors of the University not only took away the appetite from manyand disturbed the digestion of others, but it even rendered thephlegmatic Chinese uneasy, so that they no longer dared to sit intheir shops with one leg drawn up as usual, from fear of losing timein extending it in order to put themselves into flight. At eighto'clock in the morning, although the sun continued on its course andhis Excellency, the Captain-General, did not appear at the head ofhis victorious cohorts, still the excitement had increased. The friarswho were accustomed to frequent Quiroga's bazaar did not put in theirappearance, and this symptom presaged terrific cataclysms. If thesun had risen a square and the saints appeared only in pantaloons, Quiroga would not have been so greatly alarmed, for he would havetaken the sun for a gaming-table and the sacred images for gamblerswho had lost their camisas, but for the friars not to come, preciselywhen some novelties had just arrived for them!

By means of a provincial friend of his, Quiroga forbade entrance intohis gaming-houses to every Indian who was not an old acquaintance, as the future Chinese consul feared that they might get possession ofthe sums that the wretches lost there. After arranging his bazaar insuch a way that he could close it quickly in case of need, he had apoliceman accompany him for the short distance that separated his housefrom Simoun's. Quiroga thought this occasion the most propitious formaking use of the rifles and cartridges that he had in his warehouse, in the way the jeweler had pointed out; so that on the followingdays there would be searches made, and then--how many prisoners, howmany terrified people would give up their savings! It was the game ofthe old carbineers, in slipping contraband cigars and tobacco-leavesunder a house, in order to pretend a search and force the unfortunateowner to bribery or fines, only now the art had been perfected and, the tobacco monopoly abolished, resort was had to the prohibited arms. 

But Simoun refused to see any one and sent word to the Chinese thathe should leave things as they were, whereupon he went to see DonCustodio to inquire whether he should fortify his bazaar, but neitherwould Don Custodio receive him, being at the time engaged in the studyof a project for defense in case of a siege. He thought of Ben-Zaybas a source of information, but finding the writer armed to the teethand using two loaded revolvers for paper-weights, took his leave inthe shortest possible time, to shut himself up in his house and taketo his bed under pretense of illness. 

At four in the afternoon the talk was no longer of simplepasquinades. There were whispered rumors of an understanding betweenthe students and the outlaws of San Mateo, it was certain that in the_pansitería_ they had conspired to surprise the city, there was talkof German ships outside the bay to support the movement, of a bandof young men who under the pretext of protesting and demonstratingtheir Hispanism had gone to the Palace to place themselves at theGeneral's orders but had been arrested because it was discovered thatthey were armed. Providence had saved his Excellency, preventing himfrom receiving those precocious criminals, as he was at the time inconference with the Provincials, the Vice-Rector, and with Padre Irene, Padre Salvi's representative. There was considerable truth in theserumors, if we have to believe Padre Irene, who in the afternoon wentto visit Capitan Tiago. According to him, certain persons had advisedhis Excellency to improve the opportunity in order to inspire terrorand administer a lasting lesson to the filibusters. 

"A number shot, " one had advised, "some two dozen reformers deportedat once, in the silence of the night, would extinguish forever theflames of discontent. "

"No, " rejoined another, who had a kind heart, "sufficient that thesoldiers parade through the streets, a troop of cavalry, for example, with drawn sabers--sufficient to drag along some cannon, that'senough! The people are timid and will all retire into their houses. "

"No, no, " insinuated another. "This is the opportunity to get rid ofthe enemy. It's not sufficient that they retire into their houses, theyshould be made to come out, like evil humors by means of plasters. Ifthey are inclined to start riots, they should be stirred up by secretagitators. I am of the opinion that the troops should be resting ontheir arms and appearing careless and indifferent, so the people may beemboldened, and then in case of any disturbance--out on them, action!"

"The end justifies the means, " remarked another. "Our end is ourholy religion and the integrity of the fatherland. Proclaim a stateof siege, and in case of the least disturbance, arrest all the richand educated, and--clean up the country!"

"If I hadn't got there in time to counsel moderation, " added PadreIrene, speaking to Capitan Tiago, "it's certain that blood wouldnow be flowing through the streets. I thought of you, Capitan--Thepartizans of force couldn't do much with the General, and they missedSimoun. Ah, if Simoun had not been taken ill--"

With the arrest of Basilio and the search made later among his booksand papers, Capitan Tiago had become much worse. Now Padre Irene hadcome to augment his terror with hair-raising tales. Ineffable fearseized upon the wretch, manifesting itself first by a light shiver, which was rapidly accentuated, until he was unable to speak. With hiseyes bulging and his brow covered with sweat, he caught Padre Irene'sarm and tried to rise, but could not, and then, uttering two groans, fell heavily back upon the pillow. His eyes were wide open and hewas slavering--but he was dead. The terrified Padre Irene fled, and, as the dying man had caught hold of him, in his flight he dragged thecorpse from the bed, leaving it sprawling in the middle of the room. 

By night the terror had reached a climax. Several incidents hadoccurred to make the timorous believe in the presence of secretagitators. 

During a baptism some cuartos were thrown to the boys and naturallythere was a scramble at the door of the church. It happened that atthe time there was passing a bold soldier, who, somewhat preoccupied, mistook the uproar for a gathering of filibusters and hurled himself, sword in hand, upon the boys. He went into the church, and had he notbecome entangled in the curtains suspended from the choir he wouldnot have left a single head on shoulders. It was but the matter of amoment for the timorous to witness this and take to flight, spreadingthe news that the revolution had begun. The few shops that had beenkept open were now hastily closed, there being Chinese who even leftbolts of cloth outside, and not a few women lost their slippers intheir flight through the streets. Fortunately, there was only oneperson wounded and a few bruised, among them the soldier himself, who suffered a fall fighting with the curtain, which smelt to him offilibusterism. Such prowess gained him great renown, and a renownso pure that it is to be wished all fame could be acquired in likemanner--mothers would then weep less and earth would be more populous!

In a suburb the inhabitants caught two unknown individuals buryingarms under a house, whereupon a tumult arose and the people pursuedthe strangers in order to kill them and turn their bodies over to theauthorities, but some one pacified the excited crowd by telling themthat it would be sufficient to hand over the _corpora delictorum_, which proved to be some old shotguns that would surely have killedthe first person who tried to fire them. 

"All right, " exclaimed one braggart, "if they want us to rebel, let's go ahead!" But he was cuffed and kicked into silence, the womenpinching him as though he had been the owner of the shotguns. 

In Ermita the affair was more serious, even though there was lessexcitement, and that when there were shots fired. A certain cautiousgovernment employee, armed to the teeth, saw at nightfall an objectnear his house, and taking it for nothing less than a student, firedat it twice with a revolver. The object proved to be a policeman, and they buried him--_pax Christi! Mutis!_

In Dulumbayan various shots also resounded, from which there resultedthe death of a poor old deaf man, who had not heard the sentinel's_quién vive_, and of a hog that had heard it and had not answered_España_! The old man was buried with difficulty, since there was nomoney to pay for the obsequies, but the hog was eaten. 

In Manila, [59] in a confectionery near the University much frequentedby the students, the arrests were thus commented upon. 

"And have they arrested Tadeo?" [60] asked the proprietess. 

"_Abá_!" answered a student who lived in Parian, "he's already shot!"

"Shot! _Nakú_! He hasn't paid what he owes me. "

"Ay, don't mention that or you'll be taken for an accomplice. I'vealready burnt the book [61] you lent me. There might be a search andit would be found. Be careful!"

"Did you say that Isagani is a prisoner?"

"Crazy fool, too, that Isagani, " replied the indignant student. "Theydidn't try to catch him, but he went and surrendered. Let him busthimself--he'll surely be shot. "

The señora shrugged her shoulders. "He doesn't owe me anything. Andwhat about Paulita?"

"She won't lack a husband. Sure, she'll cry a little, and then marrya Spaniard. "

The night was one of the gloomiest. In the houses the rosary wasrecited and pious women dedicated paternosters and requiems to eachof the souls of their relatives and friends. By eight o'clock hardlya pedestrian could be seen--only from time to time was heard thegalloping of a horse against whose sides a saber clanked noisily, then the whistles of the watchmen, and carriages that whirled alongat full speed, as though pursued by mobs of filibusters. 

Yet terror did not reign everywhere. In the house of the silversmith, where Placido Penitente boarded, the events were commented upon anddiscussed with some freedom. 

"I don't believe in the pasquinades, " declared a workman, lank andwithered from operating the blowpipe. "To me it looks like PadreSalvi's doings. "

"Ahem, ahem!" coughed the silversmith, a very prudent man, who did notdare to stop the conversation from fear that he would be considereda coward. The good man had to content himself with coughing, winkingto his helper, and gazing toward the street, as if to say, "They maybe watching us!"

"On account of the operetta, " added another workman. 

"Aha!" exclaimed one who had a foolish face, "I told you so!"

"Ahem!" rejoined a clerk, in a tone of compassion, "the affair ofthe pasquinades is true, Chichoy, and I can give you the explanation. "

Then he added mysteriously, "It's a trick of the Chinaman Quiroga's!"

"Ahem, ahem!" again coughed the silversmith, shifting his quid ofbuyo from one cheek to the other. 

"Believe me, Chichoy, of Quiroga the Chinaman! I heard it in theoffice. "

"_Nakú_, it's certain then, " exclaimed the simpleton, believing itat once. 

"Quiroga, " explained the clerk, "has a hundred thousand pesos inMexican silver out in the bay. How is he to get it in? Very easily. Fixup the pasquinades, availing himself of the question of the students, and, while every-body is excited, grease the officials' palms, andin the cases come!"

"Just it! Just it!" cried the credulous fool, striking the tablewith his fist. "Just it! That's why Quiroga did it! That's why--"But he had to relapse into silence as he really did not know what tosay about Quiroga. 

"And we must pay the damages?" asked the indignant Chichoy. 

"Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!" coughed the silversmith, hearing steps inthe street. 

The footsteps approached and all in the shop fell silent. 

"St. Pascual Bailon is a great saint, " declared the silversmithhypocritically, in a loud voice, at the same time winking to theothers. "St. Pascual Bailon--"

At that moment there appeared the face of Placido Penitente, who wasaccompanied by the pyrotechnician that we saw receiving orders fromSimoun. The newcomers were surrounded and importuned for news. 

"I haven't been able to talk with the prisoners, " explainedPlacido. "There are some thirty of them. "

"Be on your guard, " cautioned the pyrotechnician, exchanging aknowing look with Placido. "They say that to-night there's going tobe a massacre. "

"Aha! Thunder!" exclaimed Chichoy, looking about for a weapon. Seeingnone, he caught up his blowpipe. 

The silversmith sat down, trembling in every limb. The creduloussimpleton already saw himself beheaded and wept in anticipation overthe fate of his family. 

"No, " contradicted the clerk, "there's not going to be anymassacre. The adviser of"--he made a mysterious gesture--"isfortunately sick. "

"Simoun!"

"Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!"

Placido and the pyrotechnician exchanged another look. 

"If he hadn't got sick--"

"It would look like a revolution, " added the pyrotechniciannegligently, as he lighted a cigarette in the lamp chimney. "And whatshould we do then?"

"Then we'd start a real one, now that they're going to massacreus anyhow--"

The violent fit of coughing that seized the silversmith preventedthe rest of this speech from being heard, but Chichoy must have beensaying terrible things, to judge from his murderous gestures withthe blowpipe and the face of a Japanese tragedian that he put on. 

"Rather say that he's playing off sick because he's afraid to goout. As may be seen--"

The silversmith was attacked by another fit of coughing so severethat he finally asked all to retire. 

"Nevertheless, get ready, " warned the pyrotechnician. "If they wantto force us to kill or be killed--"

Another fit of coughing on the part of the poor silversmith preventedfurther conversation, so the workmen and apprentices retired to theirhomes, carrying with them hammers and saws, and other implements, more or less cutting, more or less bruising, disposed to sell theirlives dearly. Placido and the pyrotechnician went out again. 

"Prudence, prudence!" cautioned the silversmith in a tearful voice. 

"You'll take care of my widow and orphans!" begged the creduloussimpleton in a still more tearful voice, for he already saw himselfriddled with bullets and buried. 

That night the guards at the city gates were replaced with Peninsularartillerymen, and on the following morning as the sun rose, Ben-Zayb, who had ventured to take a morning stroll to examine the condition ofthe fortifications, found on the glacis near the Luneta the corpseof a native girl, half-naked and abandoned. Ben-Zayb was horrified, but after touching it with his cane and gazing toward the gatesproceeded on his way, musing over a sentimental tale he might baseupon the incident. 

However, no allusion to it appeared in the newspapers on the followingdays, engrossed as they were with the falls and slippings caused bybanana-peels. In the dearth of news Ben-Zayb had to comment at lengthon a cyclone that had destroyed in America whole towns, causing thedeath of more than two thousand persons. Among other beautiful thingshe said:

 "_The sentiment of charity_, MORE PREVALENT IN CATHOLIC COUNTRIES THAN IN OTHERS, and the thought of Him who, influenced by that same feeling, sacrificed himself for _humanity, moves (sic)_ us to compassion over the misfortunes of our kind and to render thanks that _in this country_, so scourged by cyclones, there are not enacted scenes so desolating as that which the inhabitants of the United States mus have witnessed!"

_Horatius_ did not miss the opportunity, and, also without mentioningthe dead, or the murdered native girl, or the assaults, answered himin his _Pirotecnia_:

 "After such great charity and such great humanity, Fray Ibañez--I mean, Ben-Zayb--brings himself to pray for the Philippines. 

 But he is understood. 

 Because he is not Catholic, and the sentiment of charity is most prevalent, " etc. [62]

CHAPTER XXIX

EXIT CAPITAN TIAGO

 Talis vita, finis ita

Capitan Tiago had a good end--that is, a quite exceptionalfuneral. True it is that the curate of the parish had venturedthe observation to Padre Irene that Capitan Tiago had died withoutconfession, but the good priest, smiling sardonically, had rubbedthe tip of his nose and answered:

"Why say that to me? If we had to deny the obsequies to all whodie without confession, we should forget the _De profundis_! Theserestrictions, as you well know, are enforced when the impenitent isalso insolvent. But Capitan Tiago--out on you! You've buried infidelChinamen, and with a requiem mass!"

Capitan Tiago had named Padre Irene as his executor and willed hisproperty in part to St. Clara, part to the Pope, to the Archbishop, thereligious corporations, leaving twenty pesos for the matriculation ofpoor students. This last clause had been dictated at the suggestion ofPadre Irene, in his capacity as protector of studious youths. CapitanTiago had annulled a legacy of twenty-five pesos that he had leftto Basilio, in view of the ungrateful conduct of the boy during thelast few days, but Padre Irene had restored it and announced that hewould take it upon his own purse and conscience. 

In the dead man's house, where were assembled on the following day manyold friends and acquaintances, considerable comment was indulged inover a miracle. It was reported that, at the very moment when he wasdying, the soul of Capitan Tiago had appeared to the nuns surroundedby a brilliant light. God had saved him, thanks to the pious legacies, and to the numerous masses he had paid for. The story was commentedupon, it was recounted vividly, it took on particulars, and wasdoubted by no one. The appearance of Capitan Tiago was minutelydescribed--of course the frock coat, the cheek bulged out by thequid of buyo, without omitting the game-cock and the opium-pipe. Thesenior sacristan, who was present, gravely affirmed these facts withhis head and reflected that, after death, he would appear with hiscup of white _tajú_, for without that refreshing breakfast he couldnot comprehend happiness either on earth or in heaven. 

On this subject, because of their inability to discuss the eventsof the preceding day and because there were gamblers present, manystrange speculations were developed. They made conjectures as towhether Capitan Tiago would invite St. Peter to a _soltada_, whetherthey would place bets, whether the game-cocks were immortal, whetherinvulnerable, and in this case who would be the referee, who would win, and so on: discussions quite to the taste of those who found sciences, theories, and systems, based on a text which they esteem infallible, revealed or dogmatic. Moreover, there were cited passages from novenas, books of miracles, sayings of the curates, descriptions of heaven, and other embroidery. Don Primitivo, the philosopher, was in hisglory quoting opinions of the theologians. 

"Because no one can lose, " he stated with great authority. "Tolose would cause hard feelings and in heaven there can't be anyhard feelings. "

"But some one has to win, " rejoined the gambler Aristorenas. "Thefun lies in winning!"

"Well, both win, that's easy!"

This idea of both winning could not be admitted by Aristorenas, for he had passed his life in the cockpit and had always seen onecock lose and the other win--at best, there was a tie. Vainly DonPrimitivo argued in Latin. Aristorenas shook his head, and that toowhen Don Primitivo's Latin was easy to understand, for he talked of _angallus talisainus, acuto tari armatus, an gallus beati Petri bulikussasabungus sit_, [63] and so on, until at length he decided to resortto the argument which many use to convince and silence their opponents. 

"You're going to be damned, friend Martin, you're falling intoheresy! _Cave ne cadas!_ I'm not going to play monte with you any more, and we'll not set up a bank together. You deny the omnipotence ofGod, _peccatum mortale!_ You deny the existence of the Holy Trinity--three are one and one is three! Take care! You indirectly deny thattwo natures, two understandings, and two wills can have only onememory! Be careful! _Quicumque non crederit anathema sit!_"

Martin Aristorenas shrank away pale and trembling, while Quiroga, who had listened with great attention to the argument, with markeddeference offered the philosopher a magnificent cigar, at the same timeasking in his caressing voice: "Surely, one can make a contract for acockpit with Kilisto, [64] ha? When I die, I'll be the contractor, ha?"

Among the others, they talked more of the deceased; at least theydiscussed what kind of clothing to put on him. Capitan Tinong proposeda Franciscan habit--and fortunately, he had one, old, threadbare, andpatched, a precious object which, according to the friar who gave it tohim as alms in exchange for thirty-six pesos, would preserve the corpsefrom the flames of hell and which reckoned in its support various piousanecdotes taken from the books distributed by the curates. Although heheld this relic in great esteem, Capitan Tinong was disposed to partwith it for the sake of his intimate friend, whom he had not been ableto visit during his illness. But a tailor objected, with good reason, that since the nuns had seen Capitan Tiago ascending to heaven in afrock coat, in a frock coat he should be dressed here on earth, norwas there any necessity for preservatives and fire-proof garments. Thedeceased had attended balls and fiestas in a frock coat, and nothingelse would be expected of him in the skies--and, wonderful to relate, the tailor accidentally happened to have one ready, which he would partwith for thirty-two pesos, four cheaper than the Franciscan habit, because he didn't want to make any profit on Capitan Tiago, who hadbeen his customer in life and would now be his patron in heaven. ButPadre Irene, trustee and executor, rejected both proposals and orderedthat the Capitan be dressed in one of his old suits of clothes, remarking with holy unction that God paid no attention to clothing. 

The obsequies were, therefore, of the very first class. There wereresponsories in the house, and in the street three friars officiated, as though one were not sufficient for such a great soul. All therites and ceremonies possible were performed, and it is reportedthat there were even _extras_, as in the benefits for actors. It wasindeed a delight: loads of incense were burned, there were plentyof Latin chants, large quantities of holy water were expended, andPadre Irene, out of regard for his old friend, sang the _Dies Irae_in a falsetto voice from the choir, while the neighbors suffered realheadaches from so much knell-ringing. 

Doña Patrocinio, the ancient rival of Capitan Tiago in religiosity, actually wanted to die on the next day, so that she might order evenmore sumptuous obsequies. The pious old lady could not bear the thoughtthat he, whom she had long considered vanquished forever, should indying come forward again with so much pomp. Yes, she desired to die, and it seemed that she could hear the exclamations of the people atthe funeral: "This indeed is what you call a funeral! This indeed isto know how to die, Doña Patrocinio!"

CHAPTER XXX

JULI

The death of Capitan Tiago and Basilio's imprisonment were soonreported in the province, and to the honor of the simple inhabitantsof San Diego, let it be recorded that the latter was the incident moreregretted and almost the only one discussed. As was to be expected, the report took on different forms, sad and startling details weregiven, what could not be understood was explained, the gaps beingfilled by conjectures, which soon passed for accomplished facts, and the phantoms thus created terrified their own creators. 

In the town of Tiani it was reported that at least, at the veryleast, the young man was going to be deported and would veryprobably be murdered on the journey. The timorous and pessimisticwere not satisfied with this but even talked about executions andcourts-martial--January was a fatal month; in January the Cavite affairhad occurred, and _they_ [65] even though curates, had been garroted, so a poor Basilio without protectors or friends--

"I told him so!" sighed the Justice of the Peace, as if he had atsome time given advice to Basilio. "I told him so. "

"It was to be expected, " commented Sister Penchang. "He would gointo the church and when he saw that the holy water was somewhatdirty he wouldn't cross himself with it. He talked about germs anddisease, _abá_, it's the chastisement of God! He deserved it, and hegot it! As though the holy water could transmit diseases! Quite thecontrary, _abá!_"

She then related how she had cured herself of indigestion by moisteningher stomach with holy water, at the same time reciting the _SanctusDeus_, and she recommended the remedy to those present when they shouldsuffer from dysentery, or an epidemic occurred, only that then theymust pray in Spanish:

 Santo Diós, Santo fuerte, Santo inmortal, ¡Libranos, Señor, de la peste Y de todo mal! [66]

"It's an infallible remedy, but you must apply the holy water to thepart affected, " she concluded. 

But there were many persons who did not believe in these things, nor did they attribute Basilio's imprisonment to the chastisement ofGod. Nor did they take any stock in insurrections and pasquinades, knowing the prudent and ultra-pacific character of the boy, butpreferred to ascribe it to revenge on the part of the friars, becauseof his having rescued from servitude Juli, the daughter of a tulisanwho was the mortal enemy of a certain powerful corporation. As theyhad quite a poor idea of the morality of that same corporation andcould recall cases of petty revenge, their conjecture was believedto have more probability and justification. 

"What a good thing I did when I drove her from my house!" said SisterPenchang. "I don't want to have any trouble with the friars, so Iurged her to find the money. "

The truth was, however, that she regretted Juli's liberty, for Juliprayed and fasted for her, and if she had stayed a longer time, wouldalso have done penance. Why, if the curates pray for us and Christdied for our sins, couldn't Juli do the same for Sister Penchang?

When the news reached the hut where the poor Juli and her grandfatherlived, the girl had to have it repeated to her. She stared at SisterBali, who was telling it, as though without comprehension, withoutability to collect her thoughts. Her ears buzzed, she felt a sinkingat the heart and had a vague presentiment that this event would havea disastrous influence on her own future. Yet she tried to seize upona ray of hope, she smiled, thinking that Sister Bali was joking withher, a rather strong joke, to be sure, but she forgave her beforehandif she would acknowledge that it was such. But Sister Bali made across with one of her thumbs and a forefinger, and kissed it, to provethat she was telling the truth. Then the smile faded forever from thegirl's lips, she turned pale, frightfully pale, she felt her strengthleave her and for the first time in her life she lost consciousness, falling into a swoon. 

When by dint of blows, pinches, dashes of water, crosses, and theapplication of sacred palms, the girl recovered and remembered thesituation, silent tears sprang from her eyes, drop by drop, withoutsobs, without laments, without complaints! She thought about Basilio, who had had no other protector than Capitan Tiago, and who now, withthe Capitan dead, was left completely unprotected and in prison. Inthe Philippines it is a well-known fact that patrons are needed foreverything, from the time one is christened until one dies, in orderto get justice, to secure a passport, or to develop an industry. Asit was said that his imprisonment was due to revenge on account ofherself and her father, the girl's sorrow turned to desperation. Nowit was her duty to liberate him, as he had done in rescuing her fromservitude, and the inner voice which suggested the idea offered toher imagination a horrible means. 

"Padre Camorra, the curate, " whispered the voice. Juli gnawed at herlips and became lost in gloomy meditation. 

As a result of her father's crime, her grandfather had been arrested inthe hope that by such means the son could be made to appear. The onlyone who could get him his liberty was Padre Camorra, and Padre Camorrahad shown himself to be poorly satisfied with her words of gratitude, having with his usual frankness asked for some sacrifices--since whichtime Juli had tried to avoid meeting him. But the curate made her kisshis hand, he twitched her nose and patted her cheeks, he joked withher, winking and laughing, and laughing he pinched her. Juli was alsothe cause of the beating the good curate had administered to some youngmen who were going about the village serenading the girls. Maliciousones, seeing her pass sad and dejected, would remark so that shemight hear: "If she only wished it, Cabesang Tales would be pardoned. "

Juli reached her home, gloomy and with wandering looks. She hadchanged greatly, having lost her merriment, and no one ever saw hersmile again. She scarcely spoke and seemed to be afraid to look ather own face. One day she was seen in the town with a big spot ofsoot on her forehead, she who used to go so trim and neat. Once sheasked Sister Bali if the people who committed suicide went to hell. 

"Surely!" replied that woman, and proceeded to describe the place asthough she had been there. 

Upon Basilio's imprisonment, the simple and grateful relatives hadplanned to make all kinds of sacrifices to save the young man, butas they could collect among themselves no more than thirty pesos, Sister Bali, as usual, thought of a better plan. 

"What we must do is to get some advice from the town clerk, " shesaid. To these poor people, the town clerk was what the Delphic oraclewas to the ancient Greeks. 

"By giving him a real and a cigar, " she continued, "he'll tell youall the laws so that your head bursts listening to him. If you havea peso, he'll save you, even though you may be at the foot of thescaffold. When my friend Simon was put in jail and flogged for notbeing able to give evidence about a robbery perpetrated near hishouse, _abá_, for two reales and a half and a string of garlics, the town clerk got him out. And I saw Simon myself when he couldscarcely walk and he had to stay in bed at least a month. Ay, hisflesh rotted as a result and he died!"

Sister Bali's advice was accepted and she herself volunteered tointerview the town clerk. Juli gave her four reales and added somestrips of jerked venison her grand-father had got, for Tandang Selohad again devoted himself to hunting. 

But the town clerk could do nothing--the prisoner was in Manila, and his power did not extend that far. "If at least he were at thecapital, then--" he ventured, to make a show of his authority, whichhe knew very well did not extend beyond the boundaries of Tiani, buthe had to maintain his prestige and keep the jerked venison. "But Ican give you a good piece of advice, and it is that you go with Julito see the Justice of the Peace. But it's very necessary that Juli go. "

The Justice of the Peace was a very rough fellow, but if he shouldsee Juli he might conduct himself less rudely--this is wherein laythe wisdom of the advice. 

With great gravity the honorable Justice listened to Sister Bali, who did the talking, but not without staring from time to time atthe girl, who hung her head with shame. People would say that shewas greatly interested in Basilio, people who did not remember herdebt of gratitude, nor that his imprisonment, according to report, was on her account. 

After belching three or four times, for his Honor had that ugly habit, he said that the only person who could save Basilio was Padre Camorra, _in case he should care to do so_. Here he stared meaningly at thegirl and advised her to deal with the curate in person. 

"You know what influence he has, --he got your grand-father out ofjail. A report from him is enough to deport a new-born babe or savefrom death a man with the noose about his neck. "

Juli said nothing, but Sister Bali took this advice as though shehad read it in a novena, and was ready to accompany the girl to theconvento. It so happened that she was just going there to get as almsa scapulary in exchange for four full reales. 

But Juli shook her head and was unwilling to go to the convento. SisterBali thought she could guess the reason--Padre Camorra was reputedto be very fond of the women and was very frolicsome--so she triedto reassure her. "You've nothing to fear if I go with you. Haven'tyou read in the booklet _Tandang Basio_, given you by the curate, that the girls should go to the convento, even without the knowledgeof their elders, to relate what is going on at home? _Abá_, that bookis printed with the permission of the Archbishop!"

Juli became impatient and wished to cut short such talk, so she beggedthe pious woman to go if she wished, but his Honor observed with abelch that the supplications of a youthful face were more moving thanthose of an old one, the sky poured its dew over the fresh flowersin greater abundance than over the withered ones. The metaphor wasfiendishly beautiful. 

Juli did not reply and the two left the house. In the street thegirl firmly refused to go to the convento and they returned to theirvillage. Sister Bali, who felt offended at this lack of confidencein herself, on the way home relieved her feelings by administeringa long preachment to the girl. 

The truth was that the girl could not take that step without damningherself in her own eyes, besides being cursed of men and cursedof God! It had been intimated to her several times, whether withreason or not, that if she would make that sacrifice her father wouldbe pardoned, and yet she had refused, in spite of the cries of herconscience reminding her of her filial duty. Now must she make it forBasilio, her sweetheart? That would be to fall to the sound of mockeryand laughter from all creation. Basilio himself would despise her! No, never! She would first hang herself or leap from some precipice. Atany rate, she was already damned for being a wicked daughter. 

The poor girl had besides to endure all the reproaches of herrelatives, who, knowing nothing of what had passed between her andPadre Camovra, laughed at her fears. Would Padre Camorra fix hisattention upon a country girl when there were so many others in thetown? Hero the good women cited names of unmarried girls, rich andbeautiful, who had been more or less unfortunate. Meanwhile, if theyshould shoot Basilio?

Juli covered her ears and stared wildly about, as if seeking a voicethat might plead for her, but she saw only her grandfather, who wasdumb and had his gaze fixed on his hunting-spear. 

That night she scarcely slept at all. Dreams and nightmares, somefunereal, some bloody, danced before her sight and woke her often, bathed in cold perspiration. She fancied that she heard shots, sheimagined that she saw her father, that father who had done so muchfor her, fighting in the forests, hunted like a wild beast becauseshe had refused to save him. The figure of her father was transformedand she recognized Basilio, dying, with looks of reproach at her. Thewretched girl arose, prayed, wept, called upon her mother, upon death, and there was even a moment when, overcome with terror, if it hadnot been night-time, she would have run straight to the convento, let happen what would. 

With the coming of day the sad presentiments and the terrors ofdarkness were partly dissipated. The light inspired hopes in her. Butthe news of the afternoon was terrible, for there was talk of personsshot, so the next night was for the girl frightful. In her desperationshe decided to give herself up as soon as day dawned and then killherself afterwards--anything, rather than enditre such tortures! Butthe dawn brought new hope and she would not go to church or evenleave the house. She was afraid she would yield. 

So passed several days in praying and cursing, in calling upon Godand wishing for death. The day gave her a slight respite and shetrusted in some miracle. The reports that came from Manila, althoughthey reached there magnified, said that of the prisoners some hadsecured their liberty, thanks to patrons and influence. Some onehad to be sacrificed--who would it be? Juli shuddered and returnedhome biting her finger-nails. Then came the night with its terrors, which took on double proportions and seemed to be converted intorealities. Juli feared to fall asleep, for her slumbers were acontinuous nightmare. Looks of reproach would flash across her eyelidsjust as soon as they were closed, complaints and laments piercedher ears. She saw her father wandering about hungry, without rest orrepose; she saw Basilio dying in the road, pierced by two bullets, just as she had seen the corpse of that neighbor who had been killedwhile in the charge of the Civil Guard. She saw the bonds that cutinto the flesh, she saw the blood pouring from the mouth, she heardBasilio calling to her, "Save me! Save me! You alone can save me!" Thena burst of laughter would resound and she would turn her eyes to seeher father gazing at her with eyes full of reproach. Juli would wakeup, sit up on her _petate_, and draw her hands across her foreheadto arrange her hair--cold sweat, like the sweat of death, moistened it!

"Mother, mother!" she sobbed. 

Meanwhile, they who were so carelessly disposing of people's fates, he who commanded the legal murders, he who violated justice and madeuse of the law to maintain himself by force, slept in peace. 

At last a traveler arrived from Manila and reported that allthe prisoners had been set free, all except Basilio, who had noprotector. It was reported in Manila, added the traveler, that theyoung man would be deported to the Carolines, having been forced tosign a petition beforehand, in which he declared that he asked itvoluntarily. [67] The traveler had seen the very steamer that wasgoing to take him away. 

This report put an end to all the girl's hesitation. Besides, her mindwas already quite weak from so many nights of watching and horribledreams. Pale and with unsteady eyes, she sought out Sister Bali and, in a voice that was cause for alarm, told her that she was ready, asking her to accompany her. Sister Bali thereupon rejoiced and triedto soothe her, but Juli paid no attention to her, apparently intentonly upon hurrying to the convento. She had decked herself out in herfinest clothes, and even pretended to be quite gay, talking a greatdeal, although in a rather incoherent way. 

So they set out. Juli went ahead, becoming impatient that her companionlagged behind. But as they neared the town, her nervous energy begangradually to abate, she fell silent and wavered in her resolution, lessened her pace and soon dropped behind, so that Sister Bali hadto encourage her. 

"We'll get there late, " she remonstrated. 

Juli now followed, pale, with downcast eyes, which she was afraid toraise. She felt that the whole world was staring at her and pointingits finger at her. A vile name whistled in her ears, but still shedisregarded it and continued on her way. Nevertheless, when they camein sight of the convento, she stopped and began to tremble. 

"Let's go home, let's go home, " she begged, holding her companion back. 

Sister Bali had to take her by the arm and half drag her along, reassuring her and telling her about the books of the friars. Shewould not desert her, so there was nothing to fear. Padre Camorrahad other things in mind--Juli was only a poor country girl. 

But upon arriving at the door of the convento, Juli firmly refusedto go in, catching hold of the wall. 

"No, no, " she pleaded in terror. "No, no, no! Have pity!"

"But what a fool--"

Sister Bali pushed her gently along, Juli, pallid and with wildfeatures, offering resistance. The expression of her face said thatshe saw death before her. 

"All right, let's go back, if you don't want to!" at length the goodwoman exclaimed in irritation, as she did not believe there was anyreal danger. Padre Camorra, in spite of all his reputation, woulddare do nothing before her. 

"Let them carry poor Basilio into exile, let them shoot him on theway, saying that he tried to escape, " she added. "When he's dead, then remorse will come. But as for myself, I owe him no favors, so he can't reproach me!"

That was the decisive stroke. In the face of that reproach, with wrathand desperation mingled, like one who rushes to suicide, Juli closedher eyes in order not to see the abyss into which she was hurlingherself and resolutely entered the convento. A sigh that soundedlike the rattle of death escaped from her lips. Sister Bali followed, telling her how to act. 

That night comments were mysteriously whispered about certain eventswhich had occurred that afternoon. A girl had leaped from a windowof the convento, falling upon some stones and killing herself. Almostat the same time another woman had rushed out of the convento to runthrough the streets shouting and screaming like a lunatic. The prudenttownsfolk dared not utter any names and many mothers pinched theirdaughters for letting slip expressions that might compromise them. 

Later, very much later, at twilight, an old man came from a villageand stood calling at the door of the convento, which was closed andguarded by sacristans. The old man beat the door with his fists andwith his head, while he littered cries stifled and inarticulate, likethose of a dumb person, until he was at length driven away by blows andshoves. Then he made his way to the gobernadorcillo's house, but wastold that the gobernadorcillo was not there, he was at the convento;he went to the Justice of the Peace, but neither was the Justice ofthe Peace at home--he had been summoned to the convento; he went tothe teniente-mayor, but he too was at the convento; he directed hissteps to the barracks, but the lieutenant of the Civil Guard was atthe convento. The old man then returned to his village, weeping like achild. His wails were heard in the middle of the night, causing men tobite their lips and women to clasp their hands, while the dogs slunkfearfully back into the houses with their tails between their legs. 

"Ah, God, God!" said a poor woman, lean from fasting, "in Thy presencethere is no rich, no poor, no white, no black--Thou wilt grant usjustice!"

"Yes, " rejoined her husband, "just so that God they preach is not apure invention, a fraud! They themselves are the first not to believein Him. "

At eight o'clock in the evening it was rumored that more thanseven friars, proceeding from neighboring towns, were assembled inthe convento to hold a conference. On the following day, TandangSelo disappeared forever from the village, carrying with him hishunting-spear. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE HIGH OFFICIAL

 L'Espagne et sa, vertu, l'Espagne et sa grandeur Tout s'en va!--Victor Hugo

The newspapers of Manila were so engrossed in accounts of a notoriousmurder committed in Europe, in panegyrics and puffs for variouspreachers in the city, in the constantly increasing success of theFrench operetta, that they could scarcely devote space to the crimesperpetrated in the provinces by a band of tulisanes headed by a fierceand terrible leader who was called _Matanglawin. _ [68] Only when theobject of the attack was a convento or a Spaniard there then appearedlong articles giving frightful details and asking for martial law, energetic measures, and so on. So it was that they could take no noticeof what had occurred in the town of Tiani, nor was there the slightesthint or allusion to it. In private circles something was whispered, but so confused, so vague, and so little consistent, that not eventhe name of the victim was known, while those who showed the greatestinterest forgot it quickly, trusting that the affair had been settledin some way with the wronged family. The only one who knew anythingcertain was Padre Camorra, who had to leave the town, to be transferredto another or to remain for some time in the convento in Manila. 

"Poor Padre Camorra!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb in a fit of generosity. "Hewas so jolly and had such a good heart!"

It was true that the students had recovered their liberty, thanks tothe exertions of their relatives, who did not hesitate at expense, gifts, or any sacrifice whatsoever. The first to see himself free, aswas to be expected, was Makaraig, and the last Isagani, because PadreFlorentine did not reach Manila until a week after the events. Somany acts of clemency secured for the General the title of clementand merciful, which Ben-Zayb hastened to add to his long list ofadjectives. 

The only one who did not obtain his liberty was Basilio, since he wasalso accused of having in his possession prohibited books. We don'tknow whether this referred to his text-book on legal medicine or tothe pamphlets that were found, dealing with the Philippines, or bothtogether--the fact is that it was said that prohibited literaturewas being secretly sold, and upon the unfortunate boy fell all theweight of the rod of justice. 

It was reported that his Excellency had been thus advised: "It'snecessary that there be some one, so that the prestige of authoritymay be sustained and that it may not be said that we made a great fussover nothing. Authority before everything. It's necessary that someone be made an example of. Let there be just one, one who, accordingto Padre Irene, was the servant of Capitan Tiago--there'll be no oneto enter a complaint--"

"Servant and student?" asked his Excellency. "That fellow, then! Letit be he!"

"Your Excellency will pardon me, " observed the high official, whohappened to be present, "but I've been told that this boy is a medicalstudent and his teachers speak well of him. If he remains a prisonerhe'll lose a year, and as this year he finishes--"

The high official's interference in behalf of Basilio, insteadof helping, harmed him. For some time there had been between thisofficial and his Excellency strained relations and bad feelings, augmented by frequent clashes. 

"Yes? So much the greater reason that he should be kept prisoner;a year longer in his studies, instead of injuring him, will do good, not only to himself but to all who afterwards fall into his hands. Onedoesn't become a bad physician by extensive practise. So much themore reason that he should remain! Soon the filibustering reformerswill say that we are not looking out for the country!" concluded hisExcellency with a sarcastic laugh. 

The high official realized that he had made a false move and tookBasilio's case to heart. "But it seems to me that this young man isthe most innocent of all, " he rejoined rather timidly. 

"Books have been seized in his possession, " observed the secretary. 

"Yes, works on medicine and pamphlets written by Peninsulars, withthe leaves uncut, and besides, what does that signify? Moreover, this young man was not present at the banquet in the _pansitería_, he hasn't mixed up in anything. As I've said, he's the most innocent--"

"So much the better!" exclaimed his Excellency jocosely. "In thatway the punishment will prove more salutary and exemplary, since itinspires greater terror. To govern is to act in this way, my dearsir, as it is often expedient to sacrifice the welfare of one to thewelfare of many. But I'm doing more--from the welfare of one willresult the welfare of all, the principle of endangered authority ispreserved, prestige is respected and maintained. By this act of mineI'm correcting my own and other people's faults. "

The high official restrained himself with an effort and, disregardingthe allusion, decided to take another tack. "But doesn't yourExcellency fear the--responsibility?"

"What have I to fear?" rejoined the General impatiently. "Haven'tI discretionary powers? Can't I do what I please for the bettergovernment of these islands? What have I to fear? Can somemenial perhaps arraign me before the tribunals and exact from meresponsibility? Even though he had the means, he would have to consultthe Ministry first, and the Minister--"

He waved his hand and burst out into laughter. 

"The Minister who appointed me, the devil knows where he is, andhe will feel honored in being able to welcome me when I return. Thepresent one, I don't even think of him, and the devil take him too! Theone that relieves him will find himself in so many difficulties withhis new duties that he won't be able to fool with trifles. I, my dearsir, have nothing over me but my conscience, I act according to myconscience, and my conscience is satisfied, so I don't care a strawfor the opinions of this one and that. My conscience, my dear sir, my conscience!"

"Yes, General, but the country--"

"Tut, tut, tut, tut! The country--what have I to do Avith thecountry? Have I perhaps contracted any obligations to it? Do I owemy office to it? Was it the country that elected me?"

A brief pause ensued, during which the high official stood with bowedhead. Then, as if reaching a decision, he raised it to stare fixedlyat the General. Pale and trembling, he said with repressed energy:"That doesn't matter, General, that doesn't matter at all! YourExcellency has not been chosen by the Filipino people, but by Spain, all the more reason why you should treat the Filipinos well so thatthey may not be able to reproach Spain. The greater reason, General, the greater reason! Your Excellency, by coming here, has contractedthe obligation to govern justly, to seek the welfare--"

"Am I not doing it?" interrupted his Excellency in exasperation, taking a step forward. "Haven't I told you that I am getting from thegood of one the good of all? Are you now going to give me lessons? Ifyou don't understand my actions, how am I to blame? Do I compel youto share my responsibility?"

"Certainly not, " replied the high official, drawing himself upproudly. "Your Excellency does not compel me, your Excellency cannotcompel me, _me, _ to share _your_ responsibility. I understand mine inquite another way, and because I have it, I'm going to speak--I've heldmy peace a long time. Oh, your Excellency needn't make those gestures, because the fact that I've come here in this or that capacity doesn'tmean that I have given up my rights, that I have been reduced to thepart of a slave, without voice or dignity. 

"I don't want Spain to lose this beautiful empire, these eightmillions of patient and submissive subjects, who live on hopes anddelusions, but neither do I wish to soil my hands in their barbarousexploitation. I don't wish it ever to be said that, the slave-tradeabolished, Spain has continued to cloak it with her banner andperfect it under a wealth of specious institutions. No, to be greatSpain does not have to be a tyrant, Spain is sufficient unto herself, Spain was greater when she had only her own territory, wrested fromthe clutches of the Moor. I too am a Spaniard, but before being aSpaniard I am a man, and before Spain and above Spain is her honor, the lofty principles of morality, the eternal principles of immutablejustice! Ah, you are surprised that I think thus, because you have noidea of the grandeur of the Spanish name, no, you haven't any idea ofit, you identify it with persons and interests. To you the Spaniard maybe a pirate, he may be a murderer, a hypocrite, a cheat, anything, just so he keep what he has--but to me the Spaniard should loseeverything, empire, power, wealth, everything, before his honor! Ah, my dear sir, we protest when we read that might is placed before right, yet we applaud when in practise we see might play the hypocrite innot only perverting right but even in using it as a tool in order togain control. For the very reason that I love Spain, I'm speaking now, and I defy your frown!

"I don't wish that the coming ages accuse Spain of being the stepmotherof the nations, the vampire of races, the tyrant of small islands, since it would be a horrible mockery of the noble principles of ourancient kings. How are we carrying out their sacred legacy? Theypromised to these islands protection and justice, and we are playingwith the lives and liberties of the inhabitants; they promisedcivilization, and^we are curtailing it, fearful that they may aspireto a nobler existence; they promised them light, and we cover theireyes that they may not witness our orgies; they promised to teach themvirtue and we are encouraging their vice. Instead of peace, wealth, and justice, confusion reigns, commerce languishes, and skepticismis fostered among the masses. 

"Let us put ourselves in the place of the Filipinos and ask ourselveswhat we would do in their place. Ah, in your silence I read theirright to rebel, and if matters do not mend they will rebel some day, and justice will be on their side, with them will go the sympathyof all honest men, of every patriot in the world! When a people isdenied light, home, liberty, and justice--things that are essentialto life, and therefore man's patrimony--that people has the right totreat him who so despoils it as we would the robber who intercepts uson the highway. There are no distinctions, there are no exceptions, nothing but a fact, a right, an aggression, and every honest man whodoes not place himself on the side of the wronged makes himself anaccomplice and stains his conscience. 

"True, I am not a soldier, and the years are cooling the little firein my blood, but just as I would risk being torn to pieces to defendthe integrity of Spain against any foreign invader or against anunjustified disloyalty in her provinces, so I also assure you that Iwould place myself beside the oppressed Filipinos, because I wouldprefer to fall in the cause of the outraged rights of humanity totriumphing with the selfish interests of a nation, even when thatnation be called as it is called--Spain!"

"Do you know when the mail-boat leaves?" inquired his Excellencycoldly, when the high official had finished speaking. 

The latter stared at him fixedly, then dropped his head and silentlyleft the palace. 

Outside he found his carriage awaiting him. "Some day when you declareyourselves independent, " he said somewhat abstractedly to the nativelackey who opened the carriage-door for him, "remember that therewere not lacking in Spain hearts that beat for you and struggled foryour rights!"

"Where, sir?" asked the lackey, who had understood nothing of thisand was inquiring whither they should go. 

Two hours later the high official handed in his resignation andannounced his intention of returning to Spain by the next mail-steamer. 

CHAPTER XXXII

EFFECT OF THE PASQUINADES

As a result of the events narrated, many mothers ordered their sonsimmediately to leave off their studies and devote themselves toidleness or to agriculture. When the examinations came, suspensionswere plentiful, and he was a rare exception who finished the course, if he had belonged to the famous association, to which no one paidany more attention. Pecson, Tadeo, and Juanito Pelaez were all alikesuspended--the first receiving his dismissal with his foolish grinand declaring his intention of becoming an officer in some court, while Tadeo, with his eternal holiday realized at last, paid for anillumination and made a bonfire of his books. Nor did the others getoff much better, and at length they too had to abandon their studies, to the great satisfaction of their mothers, who always fancy their sonshanged if they should come to understand what the books teach. JuanitoPelaez alone took the blow ill, since it forced him to leave school forhis father's store, with whom he was thenceforward to be associatedin the business: the rascal found the store much less entertaining, but after some time his friends again noticed his hump appear, a symptom that his good humor was returning. The rich Makaraig, in view of the catastrophe, took good care not to expose himself, and having secured a passport by means of money set out in haste forEurope. It was said that his Excellency, the Captain-General, in hisdesire to do good by good means, and careful of the interests of theFilipinos, hindered the departure of every one who could not firstprove substantially that he had the money to spend and could live inidleness in European cities. Among our acquaintances those who got offbest were Isagani and Sandoval: the former passed in the subject hestudied under Padre Fernandez and was suspended in the others, whilethe latter was able to confuse the examining-board with his oratory. 

Basilio was the only one who did not pass in any subject, who wasnot suspended, and who did not go to Europe, for he remained inBilibid prison, subjected every three days to examinations, almostalways the same in principle, without other variation than a change ofinquisitors, since it seemed that in the presence of such great guiltall gave up or fell away in horror. And while the documents molderedor were shifted about, while the stamped papers increased like theplasters of an ignorant physician on the body of a hypochondriac, Basilio became informed of all the details of what had happenedin Tiani, of the death of Juli and the disappearance of TandangSelo. Sinong, the abused cochero, who had driven him to San Diego, happened to be in Manila at that time and called to give him allthe news. 

Meanwhile, Simoun had recovered his health, or so at least thenewspapers said. Ben-Zayb rendered thanks to "the Omnipotent whowatches over such a precious life, " and manifested the hope that theHighest would some day reveal the malefactor, whose crime remainedunpunished, thanks to the charity of the victim, who was too closelyfollowing the words of the Great Martyr: _Father, forgive them, forthey know not what they do. _ These and other things Ben-Zayb said inprint, while by mouth he was inquiring whether there was any truth inthe rumor that the opulent jeweler was going to give a grand fiesta, a banquet such as had never before been seen, in part to celebratehis recovery and in part as a farewell to the country in which he hadincreased his fortune. It was whispered as certain that Simoun, whowould have to leave with the Captain-General, whose command expiredin May, was making every effort to secure from Madrid an extension, and that he was advising his Excellency to start a campaign in order tohave an excuse for remaining, but it was further reported that for thefirst time his Excellency had disregarded the advice of his favorite, making it a point of honor not to retain for a single additional daythe power that had been conferred upon him, a rumor which encouragedbelief that the fiesta announced would take place; very soon. Forthe rest, Simoun remained unfathomable, since he had become veryuncommunicative, showed himself seldom, and smiled mysteriously whenthe rumored fiesta was mentioned. 

"Come, Señor Sindbad, " Ben-Zayb had once rallied him, "dazzle us withsomething Yankee! You owe something to this country. "

"Doubtless!" was Simoun's response, with a dry smile. 

"You'll throw the house wide open, eh?"

"Maybe, but as I have no house--"

"You ought to have secured Capitan Tiago's, which Señor Pelaez gotfor nothing. "

Simoun became silent, and from that time on he was often seen in thestore of Don Timoteo Pelaez, with whom it was said he had enteredinto partnership. Some weeks afterward, in the month of April, it wasrumored that Juanito Pelaez, Don Timoteo's son, was going to marryPaulita Gomez, the girl coveted by Spaniards and foreigners. 

"Some men are lucky!" exclaimed other envious merchants. "To buy ahouse for nothing, sell his consignment of galvanized iron well, get into partnership with a Simoun, and marry his son to a richheiress--just say if those aren't strokes of luck that all honorablemen don't have!"

"If you only knew whence came that luck of Señor Pelaez's!" anotherresponded, in a tone which indicated that the speaker did know. "It'salso assured that there'll be a fiesta and on a grand scale, " wasadded with mystery. 

It was really true that Paulita was going to marry Juanito Pelaez. Herlove for Isagani had gradually waned, like all first loves basedon poetry and sentiment. The events of the pasquinades and theimprisonment of the youth had shorn him of all his charms. To whomwould it have occurred to seek danger, to desire to share the fateof his comrades, to surrender himself, when every one was hiding anddenying any complicity in the affair? It was quixotic, it was madnessthat no sensible person in Manila could pardon, and Juanito was quiteright in ridiculing him, representing what a sorry figure he cut whenhe went to the Civil Government. Naturally, the brilliant Paulitacould no longer love a young man who so erroneously understood socialmatters and whom all condemned. Then she began to reflect. Juanito wasclever, capable, gay, shrewd, the son of a rich merchant of Manila, and a Spanish mestizo besides--if Don Timoteo was to be believed, a full-blooded Spaniard. On the other hand, Isagani was a provincialnative who dreamed of forests infested with leeches, he was of doubtfulfamily, with a priest for an uncle, who would perhaps be an enemy toluxury and balls, of which she was very fond. One beautiful morningtherefore it occurred to her that she had been a downright fool toprefer him to his rival, and from that time on Pelaez's hump steadilyincreased. Unconsciously, yet rigorously, Paulita was obeying thelaw discovered by Darwin, that the female surrenders herself to thefittest male, to him who knows how to adapt himself to the medium inwhich he lives, and to live in Manila there was no other like Pelaez, who from his infancy had had chicanery at his finger-tips. Lent passedwith its Holy Week, its array of processions and pompous displays, without other novelty than a mysterious mutiny among the artillerymen, the cause of which was never disclosed. The houses of light materialswere torn down in the presence of a troop of cavalry, ready to fallupon the owners in case they should offer resistance. There was agreat deal of weeping and many lamentations, but the affair did notget beyond that. The curious, among them Simoun, went to see thosewho were left homeless, walking about indifferently and assuring eachother that thenceforward they could sleep in peace. 

Towards the end of April, all the fears being now forgotten, Manilawas engrossed with one topic: the fiesta that Don Timoteo Pelaez wasgoing to celebrate at the wedding of his son, for which the Generalhad graciously and condescendingly agreed to be the patron. Simounwas reported to have arranged the matter. The ceremony wouldbe solemnized two days before the departure of the General, whowould honor the house and make a present to the bridegroom. It waswhispered that the jeweler would pour out cascades of diamonds andthrow away handfuls of pearls in honor of his partner's son, thus, since he could hold no fiesta of his own, as he was a bachelor andhad no house, improving the opportunity to dazzle the Filipino peoplewith a memorable farewell. All Manila prepared to be invited, andnever did uneasiness take stronger hold of the mind than in view ofthe thought of not being among those bidden. Friendship with Simounbecame a matter of dispute, and many husbands were forced by theirwives to purchase bars of steel and sheets of galvanized iron inorder to make friends with Don Timoteo Pelaez. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

LA ULTIMA RAZÓN [69]

At last the great day arrived. During the morning Simoun had not lefthis house, busied as he was in packing his arms and his jewels. Hisfabulous wealth was already locked up in the big steel chest with itscanvas cover, there remaining only a few cases containing braceletsand pins, doubtless gifts that he meant to make. He was going to leavewith the Captain-General, who cared in no way to lengthen his stay, fearful of what people would say. Malicious ones insinuated that Simoundid not dare remain alone, since without the General's support he didnot care to expose himself to the vengeance of the many wretches hehad exploited, all the more reason for which was the fact that theGeneral who was coming was reported to be a model of rectitude andmight make him disgorge his gains. The superstitious Indians, on theother hand, believed that Simoun was the devil who did not wish toseparate himself from his prey. The pessimists winked maliciously andsaid, "The field laid waste, the locust leaves for other parts!" Onlya few, a very few, smiled and said nothing. 

In the afternoon Simoun had given orders to his servant that if thereappeared a young man calling himself Basilio he should be admittedat once. Then he shut himself up in his room and seemed to becomelost in deep thought. Since his illness the jeweler's countenance hadbecome harder and gloomier, while the wrinkles between his eyebrowshad deepened greatly. He did not hold himself so erect as formerly, and his head was bowed. 

So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not hear a knockat the door, and it had to be repeated. He shuddered and called out, "Come in!"

It was Basilio, but how altered! If the change that had taken placein Simoun during those two months was great, in the young student itwas frightful. His cheeks were hollow, his hair unkempt, his clothingdisordered. The tender melancholy had disappeared from his eyes, and in its place glittered a dark light, so that it might be saidthat he had died and his corpse had revived, horrified with what ithad seen in eternity. If not crime, then the shadow of crime, hadfixed itself upon his whole appearance. Simoun himself was startledand felt pity for the wretch. 

Without any greeting Basilio slowly advanced into the room, and ina voice that made the jeweler shudder said to him, "Señor Simoun, I've been a wicked son and a bad brother--I've overlooked the murderof one and the tortures of the other, and God has chastised me! Nowthere remains to me only one desire, and it is to return evil for evil, crime for crime, violence for violence!"

Simoun listened in silence, while Basilio continued; "Four months agoyou talked to me about your plans. I refused to take part in them, but I did wrong, you have been right. Three months and a half agothe revolution was on the point of breaking out, but I did not thencare to participate in it, and the movement failed. In payment formy conduct I've been arrested and owe my liberty to your effortsonly. You are right and now I've come to say to you: put a weaponin my hand and let the revolution come! I am ready to serve you, along with all the rest of the unfortunates. "

The cloud that had darkened Simoun's brow suddenly disappeared, a rayof triumph darted from his eyes, and like one who has found what hesought he exclaimed: "I'm right, yes, I'm right! Right and Justiceare on my side, because my cause is that of the persecuted. Thanks, young man, thanks! You've come to clear away my doubts, to end myhesitation. "

He had risen and his face was beaming. The zeal that had animated himwhen four months before he had explained his plans to Basilio in thewood of his ancestors reappeared in his countenance like a red sunsetafter a cloudy day. 

"Yes, " he resumed, "the movement failed and many have deserted mebecause they saw me disheartened and wavering at the supreme moment. Istill cherished something in my heart, I was not the master of allmy feelings, I still loved! Now everything is dead in me, no longeris there even a corpse sacred enough for me to respect its sleep. Nolonger will there be any vacillation, for you yourself, an idealisticyouth, a gentle dove, understand the necessity and come to spur me toaction. Somewhat late you have opened your eyes, for between you andme together we might have executed marvelous plans, I above in thehigher circles spreading death amid perfume and gold, brutalizing thevicious and corrupting or paralyzing the few good, and you below amongthe people, among the young men, stirring them to life amid blood andtears. Our task, instead of being bloody and barbarous, would havebeen holy, perfect, artistic, and surely success would have crownedour efforts. But no intelligence would support me, I encountered fearor effeminacy among the enlightened classes, selfishness among therich, simplicity among the youth, and only in the mountains, in thewaste places, among the outcasts, have I found my men. But no matternow! If we can't get a finished statue, rounded out in all its details, of the rough block we work upon let those to come take charge!"

Seizing the arm of Basilio, who was listening without comprehendingall he said, he led him to the laboratory where he kept his chemicalmixtures. Upon the table was placed a large case made of dark shagreen, similar to those that hold the silver plate exchanged as gifts amongthe rich and powerful. Opening this, Simoun revealed to sight, upona bottom of red satin, a lamp of very peculiar shape, Its body was inthe form of a pomegranate as large as a man's head, with fissures init exposing to view the seeds inside, which were fashioned of enormouscarnelians. The covering was of oxidized gold in exact imitation ofthe wrinkles on the fruit. 

Simoun took it out with great care and, removing the burner, exposed to view the interior of the tank, which was lined withsteel two centimeters in thickness and which had a capacity of over aliter. Basilio questioned him with his eyes, for as yet he comprehendednothing. Without entering upon explanations, Simoun carefully took froma cabinet a flask and showed the young man the formula written upon it. 

"Nitro-glycerin!" murmured Basilio, stepping backward and instinctivelythrusting his hands behind him. "Nitro-glycerin! Dynamite!" Beginningnow to understand, he felt his hair stand on end. 

"Yes, nitro-glycerin!" repeated Simoun slowly, with his cold smile anda look of delight at the glass flask. "It's also something more thannitro-glycerin--it's concentrated tears, repressed hatred, wrongs, injustice, outrage. It's the last resort of the weak, force againstforce, violence against violence. A moment ago I was hesitating, but you have come and decided me. This night the most dangeroustyrants will be blown to pieces, the irresponsible rulers that hidethemselves behind God and the State, whose abuses remain unpunishedbecause no one can bring them to justice. This night the Philippineswill hear the explosion that will convert into rubbish the formlessmonument whose decay I have fostered. "

Basilio was so terrified that his lips worked without producing anysound, his tongue was paralyzed, his throat parched. For the firsttime he was looking at the powerful liquid which he had heard talkedof as a thing distilled in gloom by gloomy men, in open war againstsociety. Now he had it before him, transparent and slightly yellowish, poured with great caution into the artistic pomegranate. Simoun lookedto him like the jinnee of the _Arabian Nights_ that sprang from thesea, he took on gigantic proportions, his head touched the sky, hemade the house tremble and shook the whole city with a shrug of hisshoulders. The pomegranate assumed the form of a colossal sphere, the fissures became hellish grins whence escaped names and glowingcinders. For the first time in his life Basilio was overcome withfright and completely lost his composure. 

Simoun, meanwhile, screwed on solidly a curious and complicatedmechanism, put in place a glass chimney, then the bomb, and crownedthe whole with an elegant shade. Then he moved away some distance tocontemplate the effect, inclining his head now to one side, now tothe other, thus better to appreciate its magnificent appearance. 

Noticing that Basilio was watching him with questioning and suspiciouseyes, he said, "Tonight there will be a fiesta and this lamp willbe placed in a little dining-kiosk that I've had constructed forthe purpose. The lamp will give a brilliant light, bright enough tosuffice for the illumination of the whole place by itself, but atthe end of twenty minutes the light will fade, and then when someone tries to turn up the wick a cap of fulminate of mercury willexplode, the pomegranate will blow up and with it the dining-room, in the roof and floor of which I have concealed sacks of powder, so that no one shall escape. "

There wras a moment's silence, while Simoun stared at his mechanismand Basilio scarcely breathed. 

"So my assistance is not needed, " observed the young man. 

"No, you have another mission to fulfill, " replied Simounthoughtfully. "At nine the mechanism will have exploded and the reportwill have been heard in the country round, in the mountains, in thecaves. The uprising that I had arranged with the artillerymen wasa failure from lack of plan and timeliness, but this time it won'tbe so. Upon hearing the explosion, the wretched and the oppressed, those who wander about pursued by force, will sally forth armed tojoin Cabesang Tales in Santa Mesa, whence they will fall upon the city, [70] while the soldiers, whom I have made to believe that the Generalis shamming an insurrection in order to remain, will issue from theirbarracks ready to fire upon whomsoever I may designate. Meanwhile, the cowed populace, thinking that the hour of massacre has come, will rush out prepared to kill or be killed, and as they have neitherarms nor organization, you with some others will put yourself attheir head and direct them to the warehouses of Quiroga, where Ikeep my rifles. Cabesang Tales and I will join one another in thecity and take possession of it, while you in the suburbs will seizethe bridges and throw up barricades, and then be ready to come toour aid to butcher not only those opposing the revolution but alsoevery man who refuses to take up arms and join us. "

"All?" stammered Basilio in a choking voice. 

"All!" repeated Simoun in a sinister tone. "All--Indians, mestizos, Chinese, Spaniards, all who are found to be without courage, withoutenergy. The race must be renewed! Cowardly fathers will only breedslavish sons, and it wouldn't be worth while to destroy and then try torebuild with rotten materials. What, do you shudder? Do you tremble, do you fear to scatter death? What is death? What does a hecatomb oftwenty thousand wretches signify? Twenty thousand miseries less, andmillions of wretches saved from birth! The most timid ruler does nothesitate to dictate a law that produces misery and lingering deathfor thousands and thousands of prosperous and industrious subjects, happy perchance, merely to satisfy a caprice, a whim, his pride, and yet you shudder because in one night are to be ended forever themental tortures of many helots, because a vitiated and paralytic peoplehas to die to give place to another, young, active, full of energy!

"What is death? Nothingness, or a dream? Can its specters be comparedto the reality of the agonies of a whole miserable generation? Theneedful thing is to destroy the evil, to kill the dragon andbathe the new people in the blood, in order to make it strong andinvulnerable. What else is the inexorable law of Nature, the law ofstrife in which the weak has to succumb so that the vitiated speciesbe not perpetuated and creation thus travel backwards? Away then witheffeminate scruples! Fulfill the eternal laws, foster them, and thenthe earth will be so much the more fecund the more it is fertilizedwith blood, and the thrones the more solid the more they rest uponcrimes and corpses. Let there be no hesitation, no doubtings! What isthe pain of death? A momentary sensation, perhaps confused, perhapsagreeable, like the transition from waking to sleep. What is it thatis being destroyed? Evil, suffering--feeble weeds, in order to set intheir place luxuriant plants. Do you call that destruction? I shouldcall it creating, producing, nourishing, vivifying!"

Such bloody sophisms, uttered with conviction and coolness, overwhelmedthe youth, weakened as he was by more than three months in prisonand blinded by his passion for revenge, so he was not in a mood toanalyze the moral basis of the matter. Instead of replying that theworst and cowardliest of men is always something more than a plant, because he has a soul and an intelligence, which, however vitiatedand brutalized they may be, can be redeemed; instead of replying thatman has no right to dispose of one life for the benefit of another, that the right to life is inherent in every individual like the rightto liberty and to light; instead of replying that if it is an abuse onthe part of governments to punish in a culprit the faults and crimesto which they have driven him by their own negligence or stupidity, how much more so would it be in a man, however great and howeverunfortunate he might be, to punish in a wretched people the faults ofits governments and its ancestors; instead of declaring that God alonecan use such methods, that God can destroy because He can create, God who holds in His hands recompense, eternity, and the future, to justify His acts, and man never; instead of these reflections, Basilio merely interposed a cant reflection. 

"What will the world say at the sight of such butchery?"

"The world will applaud, as usual, conceding the right ofthe strongest, the most violent!" replied Simoun with his cruelsmile. "Europe applauded when the western nations sacrificed millionsof Indians in America, and not by any means to found nations much moremoral or more pacific: there is the North with its egotistic liberty, its lynch-law, its political frauds--the South with its turbulentrepublics, its barbarous revolutions, civil wars, pronunciamientos, as in its mother Spain! Europe applauded when the powerful Portugaldespoiled the Moluccas, it applauds while England is destroying theprimitive races in the Pacific to make room for its emigrants. Europewill applaud as the end of a drama, the close of a tragedy, isapplauded, for the vulgar do not fix their attention on principles, they look only at results. Commit the crime well, and you will beadmired and have more partizans than if you had carried out virtuousactions with modesty and timidity. "

"Exactly, " rejoined the youth, "what does it matter to me, after all, whether they praise or censure, when this world takes no care of theoppressed, of the poor, and of weak womankind? What obligations haveI to recognize toward society when it has recognized none toward me?"

"That's what I like to hear, " declared the tempter triumphantly. Hetook a revolver from a case and gave it to Basilio, saying, "Atten o'clock wait for me in front of the church of St. Sebastian toreceive my final instructions. Ah, at nine you must be far, very farfrom Calle Anloague. "

Basilio examined the weapon, loaded it, and placed it in the insidepocket of his coat, then took his leave with a curt, "I'll seeyou later. "

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE WEDDING

Once in the street, Basilio began to consider how he might spend thetime until the fatal hour arrived, for it was then not later than seveno'clock. It was the vacation period and all the students were back intheir towns, Isagani being the only one who had not cared to leave, but he had disappeared that morning and no one knew his whereabouts--soBasilio had been informed when after leaving the prison he had goneto visit his friend and ask him for lodging. The young man did notknow where to go, for he had no money, nothing but the revolver. Thememory of the lamp filled his imagination, the great catastrophe thatwould occur within two hours. Pondering over this, he seemed to seethe men who passed before his eyes walking without heads, and he felt athrill of ferocious joy in telling himself that, hungry and destitute, he that night was going to be dreaded, that from a poor student andservant, perhaps the sun would see him transformed into some oneterrible and sinister, standing upon pyramids of corpses, dictatinglaws to all those who were passing before his gaze now in magnificentcarriages. He laughed like one condemned to death and patted the buttof the revolver. The boxes of cartridges were also in his pockets. 

A question suddenly occurred to him--where would the drama begin? Inhis bewilderment he had not thought of asking Simoun, but thelatter had warned him to keep away from Calle Anloague. Then came asuspicion: that afternoon, upon leaving the prison, he had proceededto the former house of Capitan Tiago to get his few personal effectsand had found it transformed, prepared for a fiesta--the wedding ofJuanito Pelaez! Simoun had spoken of a fiesta. 

At this moment he noticed passing in front of him a long line ofcarriages filled with ladies and gentlemen, conversing in a livelymanner, and he even thought he could make out big bouquets of flowers, but he gave the detail no thought. The carriages were going towardCalle Rosario and in meeting those that came down off the Bridgeof Spain had to move along slowly and stop frequently. In one hesaw Juanito Pelaez at the side of a woman dressed in white with atransparent veil, in whom he recognized Paulita Gomez. 

"Paulita!" he ejaculated in surprise, realizing that it was indeedshe, in a bridal gown, along with Juanito Pelaez, as though theywere just coming from the church. "Poor Isagani!" he murmured, "what can have become of him?"

He thought for a while about his friend, a great and generous soul, and mentally asked himself if it would not be well to tell him aboutthe plan, then answered himself that Isagani would never take partin such a butchery. They had not treated Isagani as they had him. 

Then he thought that had there been no imprisonment, he would havebeen betrothed, or a husband, at this time, a licentiate in medicine, living and working in some corner of his province. The ghost ofJuli, crushed in her fall, crossed his mind, and dark flames ofhatred lighted his eyes; again he caressed the butt of the revolver, regretting that the terrible hour had not yet come. Just then he sawSimoun come out of the door of his house, carrying in his hands thecase containing the lamp, carefully wrapped up, and enter a carriage, which then followed those bearing the bridal party. In order not tolose track of Simoun, Basilio took a good look at the cochero andwith astonishment recognized in him the wretch who had driven him toSan Diego, Sinong, the fellow maltreated by the Civil Guard, the samewho had come to the prison to tell him about the occurrences in Tiani. 

Conjecturing that Calle Anloague was to be the scene of action, thitherthe youth directed his steps, hurrying forward and getting ahead ofthe carriages, which were, in fact, all moving toward the former houseof Capitan Tiago--there they were assembling in search of a ball, but actually to dance in the air! Basilio smiled when he noticed thepairs of civil-guards who formed the escort, and from their number hecould guess the importance of the fiesta and the guests. The houseoverflowed with people and poured floods of light from its windows, the entrance was carpeted and strewn with flowers. Upstairs there, perhaps in his former solitary room, an orchestra was playing livelyairs, which did not completely drown the confused tumult of talkand laughter. 

Don Timoteo Pelaez was reaching the pinnacle of fortune, and thereality surpassed his dreams. He was, at last, marrying his son tothe rich Gomez heiress, and, thanks to the money Simoun had lent him, he had royally furnished that big house, purchased for half its value, and was giving in it a splendid fiesta, with the foremost divinitiesof the Manila Olympus for his guests, to gild him with the light oftheir prestige. Since that morning there had been recurring to him, with the persistence of a popular song, some vague phrases that he hadread in the communion service. "Now has the fortunate hour come! Nowdraws nigh the happy moment! Soon there will be fulfilled in you theadmirable words of Simoun--'I live, and yet not I alone, but theCaptain-General liveth in me. '" The Captain-General the patron ofhis son! True, he had not attended the ceremony, where Don Custodiohad represented him, but he would come to dine, he would bring awedding-gift, a lamp which not even Aladdin's--between you and me, Simoun was presenting the lamp. Timoteo, what more could you desire?

The transformation that Capitan Tiago's house had undergone wasconsiderable--it had been richly repapered, while the smoke andthe smell of opium had been completely eradicated. The immensesala, widened still more by the colossal mirrors that infinitelymultiplied the lights of the chandeliers, was carpeted throughout, for the salons of Europe had carpets, and even though the floorwas of wide boards brilliantly polished, a carpet it must have too, since nothing should be lacking. The rich furniture of Capitan Tiagohad disappeared and in its place was to be seen another kind, in thestyle of Louis XV. Heavy curtains of red velvet, trimmed with gold, with the initials of the bridal couple worked on them, and upheld bygarlands of artificial orange-blossoms, hung as portières and sweptthe floor with their wide fringes, likewise of gold. In the cornersappeared enormous Japanese vases, alternating with those of Sèvresof a clear dark-blue, placed upon square pedestals of carved wood. 

The only decorations not in good taste were the screaming chromoswhich Don Timoteo had substituted for the old drawings and picturesof saints of Capitan Tiago. Simoun had been unable to dissuade him, for the merchant did not want oil-paintings--some one might ascribethem to Filipino artists! He, a patron of Filipino artists, never! Onthat point depended his peace of mind and perhaps his life, and heknew how to get along in the Philippines! It is true that he had heardforeign painters mentioned--Raphael, Murillo, Velasquez--but he didnot know their addresses, and then they might prove to be somewhatseditious. With the chromos he ran no risk, as the Filipinos did notmake them, they came cheaper, the effect was the same, if not better, the colors brighter and the execution very fine. Don't say that DonTimoteo did not know how to comport himself in the Philippines!

The large hallway was decorated with flowers, having been convertedinto a dining-room, with a long table for thirty persons in the center, and around the sides, pushed against the walls, other smaller ones fortwo or three persons each. Bouquets of flowers, pyramids of fruitsamong ribbons and lights, covered their centers. The groom's placewas designated by a bunch of roses and the bride's by another oforange-blossoms and tuberoses. In the presence of so much finery andflowers one could imagine that nymphs in gauzy garments and Cupidswith iridescent wings were going to serve nectar and ambrosia toaerial guests, to the sound of lyres and Aeolian harps. 

But the table for the greater gods was not there, being placedyonder in the middle of the wide azotea within a magnificent kioskconstructed especially for the occasion. A lattice of gilded woodover which clambered fragrant vines screened the interior from theeyes of the vulgar without impeding the free circulation of air topreserve the coolness necessary at that season. A raised platformlifted the table above the level of the others at which the ordinarymortals were going to dine and an arch decorated by the best artistswould protect the august heads from the jealous gaze of the stars. 

On this table were laid only seven plates. The dishes were of solidsilver, the cloth and napkins of the finest linen, the wines themost costly and exquisite. Don Timoteo had sought the most rare andexpensive in everything, nor would he have hesitated at crime had hebeen assured that the Captain-General liked to eat human flesh. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE FIESTA

 "Danzar sobre un volcán. "

By seven in the evening the guests had begun to arrive: first, thelesser divinities, petty government officials, clerks, and merchants, with the most ceremonious greetings and the gravest airs at the start, as if they were parvenus, for so much light, so many decorations, and so much glassware had some effect. Afterwards, they began tobe more at ease, shaking their fists playfully, with pats on theshoulders, and even familiar slaps on the back. Some, it is true, adopted a rather disdainful air, to let it be seen that they wereaccustomed to better things--of course they were! There was one goddesswho yawned, for she found everything vulgar and even remarked thatshe was ravenously hungry, while another quarreled with her god, threatening to box his ears. 

Don Timoteo bowed here and bowed there, scattered his best smiles, tightened his belt, stepped backward, turned halfway round, thencompletely around, and so on again and again, until one goddess couldnot refrain from remarking to her neighbor, under cover of her fan:"My dear, how important the old man is! Doesn't he look like ajumping-jack?"

Later came the bridal couple, escorted by Doña Victorina and the restof the party. Congratulations, hand-shakings, patronizing pats for thegroom: for the bride, insistent stares and anatomical observationson the part of the men, with analyses of her gown, her toilette, speculations as to her health and strength on the part of the women. 

"Cupid and Psyche appearing on Olympus, " thought Ben-Zayb, making a mental note of the comparison to spring it at some betteropportunity. The groom had in fact the mischievous features of the godof love, and with a little good-will his hump, which the severity ofhis frock coat did not altogether conceal, could be taken for a quiver. 

Don Timoteo began to feel his belt squeezing him, the corns on hisfeet began to ache, his neck became tired, but still the Generalhad not come. The greater gods, among them Padre Irene and PadreSalvi, had already arrived, it was true, but the chief thunderer wasstill lacking. The poor man became uneasy, nervous; his heart beatviolently, but still he had to bow and smile; he sat down, he arose, failed to hear what was said to him, did not say what he meant. Inthe meantime, an amateur god made remarks to him about his chromos, criticizing them with the statement that they spoiled the walls. 

"Spoil the walls!" repeated Don Timoteo, with a smile and a desireto choke him. "But they were made in Europe and are the most costlyI could get in Manila! Spoil the walls!" Don Timoteo swore to himselfthat on the very next day he would present for payment all the chitsthat the critic had signed in his store. 

Whistles resounded, the galloping of horses was heard--at last! "TheGeneral! The Captain-General!"

Pale with emotion, Don Timoteo, dissembling the pain of his cornsand accompanied by his son and some of the greater gods, descendedto receive the Mighty Jove. The pain at his belt vanished beforethe doubts that now assailed him: should he frame a smile or affectgravity; should he extend his hand or wait for the General to offerhis? _Carambas!_ Why had nothing of this occurred to him before, so that he might have consulted his good friend Simoun?

To conceal his agitation, he whispered to his son in a low, shakyvoice, "Have you a speech prepared?"

"Speeches are no longer in vogue, papa, especially on such an occasionas this. "

Jupiter arrived in the company of Juno, who was converted into a towerof artificial lights--with diamonds in her hair, diamonds around herneck, on her arms, on her shoulders, she was literally covered withdiamonds. She was arrayed in a magnificent silk gown having a longtrain decorated with embossed flowers. 

His Excellency literally took possession of the house, as Don Timoteostammeringly begged him to do. [71] The orchestra played the royalmarch while the divine couple majestically ascended the carpetedstairway. 

Nor was his Excellency's gravity altogether affected. Perhaps for thefirst time since his arrival in the islands he felt sad, a strainof melancholy tinged his thoughts. This was the last triumph ofhis three years of government, and within two days he would descendforever from such an exalted height. What was he leaving behind? HisExcellency did not care to turn his head backwards, but preferred tolook ahead, to gaze into the future. Although he was carrying away afortune, large sums to his credit were awaiting him in European banks, and he had residences, yet he had injured many, he had made enemiesat the Court, the high official was waiting for him there. OtherGenerals had enriched themselves as rapidly as he, and now they wereruined. Why not stay longer, as Simoun had advised him to do? No, good taste before everything else. The bows, moreover, were not nowso profound as before, he noticed insistent stares and even looks ofdislike, but still he replied affably and even attempted to smile. 

"It's plain that the sun is setting, " observed Padre Irene inBen-Zayb's ear. "Many now stare him in the face. "

The devil with the curate--that was just what he was going to remark!

"My dear, " murmured into the ear of a neighbor the lady who hadreferred to Don Timoteo as a jumping-jack, "did you ever see sucha skirt?"

"Ugh, the curtains from the Palace!"

"You don't say! But it's true! They're carrying everything away. You'llsee how they make wraps out of the carpets. "

"That only goes to show that she has talent and taste, " observed herhusband, reproving her with a look. "Women should be economical. " Thispoor god was still suffering from the dressmaker's bill. 

"My dear, give me curtains at twelve pesos a yard, and you'll see ifI put on these rags!" retorted the goddess in pique. "Heavens! Youcan talk when you have done something fine like that to give youthe right!"

Meanwhile, Basilio stood before the house, lost in the throngof curious spectators, counting those who alighted from theircarriages. When he looked upon so many persons, happy and confident, when he saw the bride and groom followed by their train of freshand innocent little girls, and reflected that they were goingto meet there a horrible death, he was sorry and felt his hatredwaning within him. He wanted to save so many innocents, he thoughtof notifying the police, but a carriage drove up to set down PadreSalvi and Padre Irene, both beaming with content, and like a passingcloud his good intentions vanished. "What does it matter to me?" heasked himself. "Let the righteous suffer with the sinners. "

Then he added, to silence his scruples: "I'm not an informer, I mustn'tabuse the confidence he has placed in me. I owe him, _him_ more thanI do _them_: he dug my mother's grave, they killed her! What haveI to do with them? I did everything possible to be good and useful, I tried to forgive and forget, I suffered every imposition, and onlyasked that they leave me in peace. I got in no one's way. What havethey done to me? Let their mangled limbs fly through the air! We'vesuffered enough. "

Then he saw Simoun alight with the terrible lamp in his hands, saw himcross the entrance with bowed head, as though deep in thought. Basiliofelt his heart beat fainter, his feet and hands turn cold, while theblack silhouette of the jeweler assumed fantastic shapes enveloped inflames. There at the foot of the stairway Simoun checked his steps, as if in doubt, and Basilio held his breath. But the hesitation wastransient--Simoun raised his head, resolutely ascended the stairway, and disappeared. 

It then seemed to the student that the house was going to blow up atany moment, and that walls, lamps, guests, roof, windows, orchestra, would be hurtling through the air like a handful of coals in the midstof an infernal explosion. He gazed about him and fancied that he sawcorpses in place of idle spectators, he saw them torn to shreds, itseemed to him that the air was filled with flames, but his calmer selftriumphed over this transient hallucination, which was due somewhatto his hunger. 

"Until he comes out, there's no danger, " he said to himself. "TheCaptain-General hasn't arrived yet. "

He tried to appear calm and control the convulsive trembling in hislimbs, endeavoring to divert his thoughts to other things. Somethingwithin was ridiculing him, saying, "If you tremble now, before thesupreme moment, how will you conduct yourself when you see bloodflowing, houses burning, and bullets whistling?"

His Excellency arrived, but the young man paid no attention tohim. He was watching the face of Simoun, who was among those thatdescended to receive him, and he read in that implacable countenancethe sentence of death for all those men, so that fresh terror seizedupon him. He felt cold, he leaned against the wall, and, with hiseyes fixed on the windows and his ears cocked, tried to guess whatmight be happening. In the sala he saw the crowd surround Simounto look at the lamp, he heard congratulations and exclamations ofadmiration--the words "dining-room, " "novelty, " were repeated manytimes--he saw the General smile and conjectured that the noveltywas to be exhibited that very night, by the jeweler's arrangement, on the table whereat his Excellency was to dine. Simoun disappeared, followed by a crowd of admirers. 

At that supreme moment his good angel triumphed, he forgot his hatreds, he forgot Juli, he wanted to save the innocent. Come what might, hewould cross the street and try to enter. But Basilio had forgottenthat he was miserably dressed. The porter stopped him and accostedhim roughly, and finally, upon his insisting, threatened to callthe police. 

Just then Simoun came down, slightly pale, and the porter turnedfrom Basilio to salute the jeweler as though he had been a saintpassing. Basilio realized from the expression of Simoun's face that hewas leaving the fated house forever, that the lamp was lighted. _Aleajacta est!_ Seized by the instinct of self-preservation, he thoughtthen of saving himself. It might occur to any of the guests throughcuriosity to tamper with the wick and then would come the explosionto overwhelm them all. Still he heard Simoun say to the cochero, "The Escolta, hurry!"

Terrified, dreading that he might at any moment hear the awfulexplosion, Basilio hurried as fast as his legs would carry him to getaway from the accursed spot, but his legs seemed to lack the necessaryagility, his feet slipped on the sidewalk as though they were movingbut not advancing. The people he met blocked the way, and before he hadgone twenty steps he thought that at least five minutes had elapsed. 

Some distance away he stumbled against a young man who was standingwith his head thrown back, gazing fixedly at the house, and in himhe recognized Isagani. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Comeaway!"

Isagani stared at him vaguely, smiled sadly, and again turned his gazetoward the open balconies, across which was revealed the etherealsilhouette of the bride clinging to the groom's arm as they movedslowly out of sight. 

"Come, Isagani, let's get away from that house. Come!" Basilio urgedin a hoarse voice, catching his friend by the arm. 

Isagani gently shook himself free and continued to stare with thesame sad smile upon his lips. 

"For God's sake, let's get away from here!"

"Why should I go away? Tomorrow it will not be she. "

There was so much sorrow in those words that Basilio for a momentforgot his own terror. "Do you want to die?" he demanded. 

Isagani shrugged his shoulders and continued to gaze toward the house. 

Basilio again tried to drag him away. "Isagani, Isagani, listento me! Let's not waste any time! That house is mined, it's goingto blow up at any moment, by the least imprudent act, the leastcuriosity! Isagani, all will perish in its ruins. "

"In its ruins?" echoed Isagani, as if trying to understand, butwithout removing his gaze from the window. 

"Yes, in its ruins, yes, Isagani! For God's sake, come! I'll explainafterwards. Come! One who has been more unfortunate than either youor I has doomed them all. Do you see that white, clear light, like anelectric lamp, shining from the azotea? It's the light of death! Alamp charged with dynamite, in a mined dining-room, will burst andnot a rat will escape alive. Come!"

"No, " answered Isagani, shaking his head sadly. "I want to stay here, I want to see her for the last time. Tomorrow, you see, she will besomething different. "

"Let fate have its way!" Basilio then exclaimed, hurrying away. 

Isagani watched his friend rush away with a precipitation thatindicated real terror, but continued to stare toward the charmedwindow, like the cavalier of Toggenburg waiting for his sweetheartto appear, as Schiller tells. Now the sala was deserted, all havingrepaired to the dining-rooms, and it occurred to Isagani that Basilio'sfears may have been well-founded. He recalled the terrified countenanceof him who was always so calm and composed, and it set him to thinking. 

Suddenly an idea appeared clear in his imagination--the house wasgoing to blow up and Paulita was there, Paulita was going to die afrightful death. In the presence of this idea everything was forgotten:jealousy, suffering, mental torture, and the generous youth thoughtonly of his love. Without reflecting, without hesitation, he rantoward the house, and thanks to his stylish clothes and determinedmien, easily secured admittance. 

While these short scenes were occurring in the street, in thedining-kiosk of the greater gods there was passed from hand to handa piece of parchment on which were written in red ink these fatefulwords:

 _Mene, Tekel, Phares_ [72] _Juan Crisostomo Ibarra_

"Juan Crisostomo Ibarra? Who is he?" asked his Excellency, handingthe paper to his neighbor. 

"A joke in very bad taste!" exclaimed Don Custodio. "To sign the nameof a filibuster dead more than ten years!"

"A filibuster!"

"It's a seditious joke!"

"There being ladies present--"

Padre Irene looked around for the joker and saw Padre Salvi, who wasseated at the right of the Countess, turn as white as his napkin, while he stared at the mysterious words with bulging eyes. The sceneof the sphinx recurred to him. 

"What's the matter, Padre Salvi?" he asked. "Do you recognize yourfriend's signature?"

Padre Salvi did not reply. He made an effort to speak and without beingconscious of what he was doing wiped his forehead with his napkin. 

"What has happened to your Reverence?"

"It is his very handwriting!" was the whispered reply in a scarcelyperceptible voice. "It's the very handwriting of Ibarra. " Leaningagainst the back of his chair, he let his arms fall as though allstrength had deserted him. 

Uneasiness became converted into fright, they all stared at one anotherwithout uttering a single word. His Excellency started to rise, butapprehending that such a move would be ascribed to fear, controlledhimself and looked about him. There were no soldiers present, eventhe waiters were unknown to him. 

"Let's go on eating, gentlemen, " he exclaimed, "and pay no attentionto the joke. " But his voice, instead of reassuring, increased thegeneral uneasiness, for it trembled. 

"I don't suppose that that _Mene, Tekel, Phares_, means that we'reto be assassinated tonight?" speculated Don Custodio. 

All remained motionless, but when he added, "Yet they might poison us, "they leaped up from their chairs. 

The light, meanwhile, had begun slowly to fade. "The lamp is goingout, " observed the General uneasily. "Will you turn up the wick, Padre Irene?"

But at that instant, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, a figure rushed in, overturning a chair and knocking a servant down, and in the midst of the general surprise seized the lamp, rushed tothe azotea, and threw it into the river. The whole thing happened ina second and the dining-kiosk was left in darkness. 

The lamp had already struck the water before the servants could cryout, "Thief, thief!" and rush toward the azotea. "A revolver!" criedone of them. "A revolver, quick! After the thief!"

But the figure, more agile than they, had already mounted thebalustrade and before a light could be brought, precipitated itselfinto the river, striking the water with a loud splash. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

BEN-ZAYB'S AFFLICTIONS

Immediately upon hearing of the incident, after lights had been broughtand the scarcely dignified attitudes of the startled gods revealed, Ben-Zayb, filled with holy indignation, and with the approval of thepress-censor secured beforehand, hastened home--an entresol wherehe lived in a mess with others--to write an article that would bethe sublimest ever penned under the skies of the Philippines. TheCaptain-General would leave disconsolate if he did not first enjoyhis dithyrambs, and this Ben-Zayb, in his kindness of heart, couldnot allow. Hence he sacrificed the dinner and ball, nor did he sleepthat night. 

Sonorous exclamations of horror, of indignation, to fancy thatthe world was smashing to pieces and the stars, the eternal stars, were clashing together! Then a mysterious introduction, filled withallusions, veiled hints, then an account of the affair, and thefinal peroration. He multiplied the flourishes and exhausted all hiseuphemisms in describing the drooping shoulders and the tardy baptismof salad his Excellency had received on his Olympian brow, he eulogizedthe agility with which the General had recovered a vertical position, placing his head where his legs had been, and vice versa, then intoneda hymn to Providence for having so solicitously guarded those sacredbones. The paragraph turned out to be so perfect that his Excellencyappeared as a hero, and fell higher, as Victor Hugo said. 

He wrote, erased, added, and polished, so that, without wantingin veracity--this was his special merit as a journalist--the wholewould be an epic, grand for the seven gods, cowardly and base forthe unknown thief, "who had executed himself, terror-stricken, andin the very act convinced of the enormity of his crime. "

He explained Padre Irene's act of plunging under the table as"an impulse of innate valor, which the habit of a God of peaceand gentleness, worn throughout a whole life, had been unable toextinguish, " for Padre Irene had tried to hurl himself upon thethief and had taken a straight course along the submensal route. Inpassing, he spoke of submarine passages, mentioned a project of DonCustodio's, called attention to the liberal education and wide travelsof the priest. Padre Salvi's swoon was the excessive sorrow that tookpossession of the virtuous Franciscan to see the little fruit borneamong the Indians by his pious sermons, while the immobility andfright of the other guests, among them the Countess, who "sustained"Padre Salvi (she grabbed him), were the serenity and sang-froid ofheroes, inured to danger in the performance of their duties, besidewhom the Roman senators surprised by the Gallic invaders were nervousschoolgirls frightened at painted cockroaches. 

Afterwards, to form a contrast, the picture of the thief: fear, madness, confusion, the fierce look, the distorted features, and--force of moral superiority in the race--his religious awe tosee assembled there such august personages! Here came in opportunelya long imprecation, a harangue, a diatribe against the perversion ofgood customs, hence the necessity of a permanent military tribunal, "a declaration of martial law within the limits already so declared, special legislation, energetic and repressive, because it is inevery way needful, it is of imperative importance to impress upon themalefactors and criminals that if the heart is generous and paternalfor those who are submissive and obedient to the law, the hand isstrong, firm, inexorable, hard, and severe for those who against allreason fail to respect it and who insult the sacred institutions of thefatherland. Yes, gentlemen, this is demanded not only for the welfareof these islands, not only for the welfare of all mankind, but alsoin the name of Spain, the honor of the Spanish name, the prestige ofthe Iberian people, because before all things else Spaniards we are, and the flag of Spain, " etc. 

He terminated the article with this farewell: "Go in peace, gallantwarrior, you who with expert hand have guided the destinies ofthis country in such calamitous times! Go in peace to breathe thebalmy breezes of Manzanares! [73] We shall remain here like faithfulsentinels to venerate your memory, to admire your wise dispositions, to avenge the infamous attempt upon your splendid gift, which wewill recover even if we have to dry up the seas! Such a preciousrelic will be for this country an eternal monument to your splendor, your presence of mind, your gallantry!"

In this rather confused way he concluded the article and beforedawn sent it to the printing-office, of course with the censor'spermit. Then he went to sleep like Napoleon, after he had arrangedthe plan for the battle of Jena. 

But at dawn he was awakened to have the sheets of copy returned witha note from the editor saying that his Excellency had positivelyand severely forbidden any mention of the affair, and had furtherordered the denial of any versions and comments that might get abroad, discrediting them as exaggerated rumors. 

To Ben-Zayb this blow was the murder of a beautiful and sturdy child, born and nurtured with such great pain and fatigue. Where now hurl theCatilinarian pride, the splendid exhibition of warlike crime-avengingmaterials? And to think that within a month or two he was going toleave the Philippines, and the article could not be published in Spain, since how could he say those things about the criminals of Madrid, where other ideas prevailed, where extenuating circumstances weresought, where facts were weighed, where there were juries, and soon? Articles such as his were like certain poisonous rums that aremanufactured in Europe, good enough to be sold among the negroes, _good for negroes_, [74] with the difference that if the negroes didnot drink them they would not be destroyed, while Ben-Zayb's articles, whether the Filipinos read them or not, had their effect. 

"If only some other crime might be committed today or tomorrow, "he mused. 

With the thought of that child dead before seeing the light, thosefrozen buds, and feeling his eyes fill with tears, he dressed himselfto call upon the editor. But the editor shrugged his shoulders; hisExcellency had forbidden it because if it should be divulged that sevenof the greater gods had let themselves be surprised and robbed by anobody, while they brandished knives and forks, that would endangerthe integrity of the fatherland! So he had ordered that no search bemade for the lamp or the thief, and had recommended to his successorsthat they should not run the risk of dining in any private house, without being surrounded by halberdiers and guards. As those who knewanything about the events that night in Don Timoteo's house were forthe most part military officials and government employees, it wasnot difficult to suppress the affair in public, for it concerned theintegrity of the fatherland. Before this name Ben-Zayb bowed his headheroically, thinking about Abraham, Guzman El Bueno, [75] or at least, Brutus and other heroes of antiquity. 

Such a sacrifice could not remain unrewarded, the gods of journalismbeing pleased with Abraham Ben-Zayb. Almost upon the hour camethe reporting angel bearing the sacrificial lamb in the shape ofan assault committed at a country-house on the Pasig, where certainfriars were spending the heated season. Here was his opportunity andBen-Zayb praised his gods. 

"The robbers got over two thousand pesos, leaving badly wounded onefriar and two servants. The curate defended himself as well as hecould behind a chair, which was smashed in his hands. "

"Wait, wait!" said Ben-Zayb, taking notes. "Forty or fiftyoutlaws traitorously--revolvers, bolos, shotguns, pistols--lion atbay--chair--splinters flying--barbarously wounded--ten thousand pesos!"

So great was his enthusiasm that he was not content with mere reports, but proceeded in person to the scene of the crime, composing on theroad a Homeric description of the fight. A harangue in the mouth ofthe leader? A scornful defiance on the part of the priest? All themetaphors and similes applied to his Excellency, Padre Irene, andPadre Salvi would exactly fit the wounded friar and the descriptionof the thief would serve for each of the outlaws. The imprecationcould be expanded, since he could talk of religion, of the faith, of charity, of the ringing of bells, of what the Indians owed tothe friars, he could get sentimental and melt into Castelarian [76]epigrams and lyric periods. The señoritas of the city would read thearticle and murmur, "Ben-Zayb, bold as a lion and tender as a lamb!"

But when he reached the scene, to his great astonishment he learnedthat the wounded friar was no other than Padre Camorra, sentenced byhis Provincial to expiate in the pleasant country-house on the banksof the Pasig his pranks in Tiani. He had a slight scratch on his handand a bruise on his head received from flattening himself out on thefloor. The robbers numbered three or four, armed only with bolos, the sum stolen fifty pesos!

"It won't do!" exclaimed Ben-Zayb. "Shut up! You don't know whatyou're talking about. "

"How don't I know, _puñales?_"

"Don't be a fool--the robbers must have numbered more. "

"You ink-slinger--"

So they had quite an altercation. What chiefly concerned Ben-Zaybwas not to throw away the article, to give importance to the affair, so that he could use the peroration. 

But a fearful rumor cut short their dispute. The robbers caughthad made some important revelations. One of the outlaws under_Matanglawin_ (Cabesang Tales) had made an appointment with them tojoin his band in Santa Mesa, thence to sack the conventos and housesof the wealthy. They would be guided by a Spaniard, tall and sunburnt, with white hair, who said that he was acting under the orders of theGeneral, whose great friend he was, and they had been further assuredthat the artillery and various regiments would join them, whereforethey were to entertain no fear at all. The tulisanes would be pardonedand have a third part of the booty assigned to them. The signal wasto have been a cannon-shot, but having waited for it in vain thetulisanes, thinking themselves deceived, separated, some going backto their homes, some returning to the mountains vowing vengeance onthe Spaniard, who had thus failed twice to keep his word. Then they, the robbers caught, had decided to do something on their own account, attacking the country-house that they found closest at hand, resolvingreligiously to give two-thirds of the booty to the Spaniard withwhite hair, if perchance he should call upon them for it. 

The description being recognized as that of Simoun, the declarationwas received as an absurdity and the robber subjected to all kindsof tortures, including the electric machine, for his impiousblasphemy. But news of the disappearance of the jeweler havingattracted the attention of the whole Escolta, and the sacks of powderand great quantities of cartridges having been discovered in hishouse, the story began to wear an appearance of truth. Mystery beganto enwrap the affair, enveloping it in clouds; there were whisperedconversations, coughs, suspicious looks, suggestive comments, andtrite second-hand remarks. Those who were on the inside were unableto get over their astonishment, they put on long faces, turned pale, and but little was wanting for many persons to lose their minds inrealizing certain things that had before passed unnoticed. 

"We've had a narrow escape! Who would have said--"

In the afternoon Ben-Zayb, his pockets filled with revolvers andcartridges, went to see Don Custodio, whom he found hard at work overa project against American jewelers. In a hushed voice he whisperedbetween the palms of his hands into the journalist's ear mysteriouswords. 

"Really?" questioned Ben-Zayb, slapping his hand on his pocket andpaling visibly. 

"Wherever he may be found--" The sentence was completed with anexpressive pantomime. Don Custodio raised both arms to the height ofhis face, with the right more bent than the left, turned the palmsof his hands toward the floor, closed one eye, and made two movementsin advance. "Ssh! Ssh!" he hissed. 

"And the diamonds?" inquired Ben-Zayb. 

"If they find him--" He went through another pantomime with thefingers of his right hand, spreading them out and clenching themtogether like the closing of a fan, clutching out with them somewhatin the manner of the wings of a wind-mill sweeping imaginary objectstoward itself with practised skill. Ben-Zayb responded with anotherpantomime, opening his eyes wide, arching his eyebrows and sucking inhis breath eagerly as though nutritious air had just been discovered. 

"Sssh!"

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE MYSTERY

 Todo se sabe

Notwithstanding so many precautions, rumors reached the public, even though quite changed and mutilated. On the following nightthey were the theme of comment in the house of Orenda, a rich jewelmerchant in the industrious district of Santa Cruz, and the numerousfriends of the family gave attention to nothing else. They were notindulging in cards, or playing the piano, while little Tinay, theyoungest of the girls, became bored playing _chongka_ by herself, without being able to understand the interest awakened by assaults, conspiracies, and sacks of powder, when there were in the seven holesso many beautiful cowries that seemed to be winking at her in unisonand smiled with their tiny mouths half-opened, begging to be carriedup to the _home_. Even Isagani, who, when he came, always used toplay with her and allow himself to be beautifully cheated, did notcome at her call, for Isagani was gloomily and silently listening tosomething Chichoy the silversmith was relating. Momoy, the betrothedof Sensia, the eldest of the daughters--a pretty and vivacious girl, rather given to joking--had left the window where he was accustomedto spend his evenings in amorous discourse, and this action seemed tobe very annoying to the lory whose cage hung from the eaves there, the lory endeared to the house from its ability to greet everybodyin the morning with marvelous phrases of love. Capitana Loleng, the energetic and intelligent Capitana Loleng, had her account-bookopen before her, but she neither read nor wrote in it, nor was herattention fixed on the trays of loose pearls, nor on the diamonds--shehad completely forgotten herself and was all ears. Her husband himself, the great Capitan Toringoy, --a transformation of the name Domingo, --thehappiest man in the district, without other occupation than to dresswell, eat, loaf, and gossip, while his whole family worked and toiled, had not gone to join his coterie, but was listening between fear andemotion to the hair-raising news of the lank Chichoy. 

Nor was reason for all this lacking. Chichoy had gone to deliver somework for Don Timoteo Pelaez, a pair of earrings for the bride, at thevery time when they were tearing down the kiosk that on the previousnight had served as a dining-room for the foremost officials. HereChichoy turned pale and his hair stood on end. 

"_Nakú_!" he exclaimed, "sacks and sacks of powder, sacks of powderunder the floor, in the roof, under the table, under the chairs, everywhere! It's lucky none of the workmen were smoking. "

"Who put those sacks of powder there?" asked Capitana Loleng, who wasbrave and did not turn pale, as did the enamored Momoy. But Momoy hadattended the wedding, so his posthumous emotion can be appreciated:he had been near the kiosk. 

"That's what no one can explain, " replied Chichoy. "Who would have anyinterest in breaking up the fiesta? There couldn't have been more thanone, as the celebrated lawyer Señor Pasta who was there on a visitdeclared--either an enemy of Don Timoteo's or a rival of Juanito's. "

The Orenda girls turned instinctively toward Isagani, who smiledsilently. 

"Hide yourself, " Capitana Loleng advised him. "They may accuseyou. Hide!"

Again Isagani smiled but said nothing. 

"Don Timoteo, " continued Chichoy, "did not know to whom to attributethe deed. He himself superintended the work, he and his friend Simoun, and nobody else. The house was thrown into an uproar, the lieutenantof the guard came, and after enjoining secrecy upon everybody, theysent me away. But--"

"But--but--" stammered the trembling Momoy. 

"_Nakú!_" ejaculated Sensia, gazing at her fiancé and tremblingsympathetically to remember that he had been at the fiesta. "Thisyoung man--If the house had blown up--" She stared at her sweetheartpassionately and admired his courage. 

"If it had blown up--"

"No one in the whole of Calle Anloague would have been left alive, "concluded Capitan Toringoy, feigning valor and indifference in thepresence of his family. 

"I left in consternation, " resumed Chichoy, "thinking about how, if amere spark, a cigarette had fallen, if a lamp had been overturned, atthe present moment we should have neither a General, nor an Archbishop, nor any one, not even a government clerk! All who were at the fiestalast night--annihilated!"

"_Vírgen Santísima!_ This young man--"

"_'Susmariosep!_" exclaimed Capitana Loleng. "All our debtors werethere, _'Susmariosep!_ And we have a house near there! Who could ithave been?"

"Now you may know about it, " added Chichoy in a whisper, "but youmust keep it a secret. This afternoon I met a friend, a clerk in anoffice, and in talking about the affair, he gave me the clue to themystery--he had it from some government employees. Who do you supposeput the sacks of powder there?"

Many shrugged their shoulders, while Capitan Toringoy merely lookedaskance at Isagani. 

"The friars?"

"Quiroga the Chinaman?"

"Some student?"

"Makaraig?"

Capitan Toringoy coughed and glanced at Isagani, while Chichoy shookhis head and smiled. 

"The jeweler Simoun. "

"Simoun!!"

The profound silence of amazement followed these words. Simoun, theevil genius of the Captain-General, the rich trader to whose housethey had gone to buy unset gems, Simoun, who had received the Orendagirls with great courtesy and had paid them fine compliments! Forthe very reason that the story seemed absurd it was believed. "_Credoquia absurdum, _" said St. Augustine. 

"But wasn't Simoun at the fiesta last night?" asked Sensia. 

"Yes, " said Momoy. "But now I remember! He left the house just as wewere sitting down to the dinner. He went to get his wedding-gift. "

"But wasn't he a friend of the General's? Wasn't he a partner ofDon Timoteo's?"

"Yes, he made himself a partner in order to strike the blow and killall the Spaniards. "

"Aha!" cried Sensia. "Now I understand!"

"What?"

"You didn't want to believe Aunt Tentay. Simoun is the devil and hehas bought up the souls of all the Spaniards. Aunt Tentay said so!"

Capitana Loleng crossed herself and looked uneasily toward the jewels, fearing to see them turn into live coals, while Capitan Toringoy tookoff the ring which had come from Simoun. 

"Simoun has disappeared without leaving any traces, " addedChichoy. "The Civil Guard is searching for him. "

"Yes, " observed Sensia, crossing herself, "searching for the devil. "

Now many things were explained: Simoun's fabulous wealth and thepeculiar smell in his house, the smell of sulphur. Binday, anotherof the daughters, a frank and lovely girl, remembered having seenblue flames in the jeweler's house one afternoon when she and hermother had gone there to buy jewels. Isagani listened attentively, but said nothing. 

"So, last night--" ventured Momoy. 

"Last night?" echoed Sensia, between curiosity and fear. 

Momoy hesitated, but the face Sensia put on banished his fear. "Lastnight, while we were eating, there was a disturbance, the light inthe General's dining-room went out. They say that some unknown personstole the lamp that was presented by Simoun. "

"A thief? One of the Black Hand?"

Isagani arose to walk back and forth. 

"Didn't they catch him?"

"He jumped into the river before anybody recognized him. Some say hewas a Spaniard, some a Chinaman, and others an Indian. "

"It's believed that with the lamp, " added Chichoy, "he was going toset fire to the house, then the powder--"

Momoy again shuddered but noticing that Sensia was watching him triedto control himself. "What a pity!" he exclaimed with an effort. "Howwickedly the thief acted. Everybody would have been killed. "

Sensia stared at him in fright, the women crossed themselves, whileCapitan Toringoy, who was afraid of politics, made a move to go away. 

Momoy turned to Isagani, who observed with an enigmatic smile: "It'salways wicked to take what doesn't belong to you. If that thief hadknown what it was all about and had been able to reflect, surely hewouldn't have done as he did. "

Then, after a pause, he added, "For nothing in the world would I wantto be in his place!"

So they continued their comments and conjectures until an hour later, when Isagani bade the family farewell, to return forever to hisuncle's side. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

FATALITY

_Matanglawin_ was the terror of Luzon. His band had as lief appearin one province where it was least expected as make a descent uponanother that was preparing to resist it. It burned a sugar-mill inBatangas and destroyed the crops, on the following day it murdered theJustice of the Peace of Tiani, and on the next took possession of thetown of Cavite, carrying off the arms from the town hall. The centralprovinces, from Tayabas to Pangasinan, suffered from his depredations, and his bloody name extended from Albay in the south to Kagayan inthe north. The towns, disarmed through mistrust on the part of aweak government, fell easy prey into his hands--at his approach thefields were abandoned by the farmers, the herds were scattered, whilea trail of blood and fire marked his passage. _Matanglawin_ laughed atthe severe measures ordered by the government against the tulisanes, since from them only the people in the outlying villages suffered, being captured and maltreated if they resisted the band, and if theymade peace with it being flogged and deported by the government, provided they completed the journey and did not meet with a fatalaccident on the way. Thanks to these terrible alternatives many ofthe country folk decided to enlist under his command. 

As a result of this reign of terror, trade among the towns, alreadylanguishing, died out completely. The rich dared not travel, andthe poor feared to be arrested by the Civil Guard, which, beingunder obligation to pursue the tulisanes, often seized the firstperson encountered and subjected him to unspeakable tortures. In itsimpotence, the government put on a show of energy toward the personswhom it suspected, in order that by force of cruelty the people shouldnot realize its weakness--the fear that prompted such measures. 

A string of these hapless suspects, some six or seven, with theirarms tied behind them, bound together like a bunch of human meat, was one afternoon marching through the excessive heat along a roadthat skirted a mountain, escorted by ten or twelve guards armed withrifles. Their bayonets gleamed in the sun, the barrels of their riflesbecame hot, and even the sage-leaves in their helmets scarcely servedto temper the effect of the deadly May sun. 

Deprived of the use of their arms and pressed close against oneanother to save rope, the prisoners moved along almost uncovered andunshod, he being the best off who had a handkerchief twisted aroundhis head. Panting, suffering, covered with dust which perspirationconverted into mud, they felt their brains melting, they saw lightsdancing before them, red spots floating in the air. Exhaustion anddejection were pictured in their faces, desperation, wrath, somethingindescribable, the look of one who dies cursing, of a man who isweary of life, who hates himself, who blasphemes against God. Thestrongest lowered their heads to rub their faces against the duskybacks of those in front of them and thus wipe away the sweat thatwas blinding them. Many were limping, but if any one of them happenedto fall and thus delay the march he would hear a curse as a soldierran up brandishing a branch torn from a tree and forced him to riseby striking about in all directions. The string then started to run, dragging, rolling in the dust, the fallen one, who howled and beggedto be killed; but perchance he succeeded in getting on his feet andthen went along crying like a child and cursing the hour he was born. 

The human cluster halted at times while the guards drank, and thenthe prisoners continued on their way with parched mouths, darkenedbrains, and hearts full of curses. Thirst was for these wretches theleast of their troubles. 

"Move on, you sons of ----!" cried a soldier, again refreshed, hurling the insult common among the lower classes of Filipinos. 

The branch whistled and fell on any shoulder whatsoever, the nearestone, or at times upon a face to leave a welt at first white, then red, and later dirty with the dust of the road. 

"Move on, you cowards!" at times a voice yelled in Spanish, deepeningits tone. 

"Cowards!" repeated the mountain echoes. 

Then the cowards quickened their pace under a sky of red-hot iron, over a burning road, lashed by the knotty branch which was worninto shreds on their livid skins. A Siberian winter would perhaps betenderer than the May sun of the Philippines. 

Yet, among the soldiers there was one who looked with disapprovingeyes upon so much wanton cruelty, as he marched along silentlywith his brows knit in disgust. At length, seeing that the guard, not satisfied with the branch, was kicking the prisoners that fell, he could no longer restrain himself but cried out impatiently, "Here, Mautang, let them alone!"

Mautang turned toward him in surprise. "What's it to you, Carolino?" heasked. 

"To me, nothing, but it hurts me, " replied Carolino. "They're menlike ourselves. "

"It's plain that you're new to the business!" retorted Mautang witha compassionate smile. "How did you treat the prisoners in the war?"

"With more consideration, surely!" answered Carolino. 

Mautang remained silent for a moment and then, apparently havingdiscovered the reason, calmly rejoined, "Ah, it's because they areenemies and fight us, while these--these are our own countrymen. "

Then drawing nearer to Carolino he whispered, "How stupid youare! They're treated so in order that they may attempt to resist orto escape, and then--bang!"

Carolino made no reply. 

One of the prisoners then begged that they let him stop for a moment. 

"This is a dangerous place, " answered the corporal, gazing uneasilytoward the mountain. "Move on!"

"Move on!" echoed Mautang and his lash whistled. 

The prisoner twisted himself around to stare at him with reproachfuleyes. "You are more cruel than the Spaniard himself, " he said. 

Mautang replied with more blows, when suddenly a bullet whistled, followed by a loud report. Mautang dropped his rifle, uttered anoath, and clutching at his breast with both hands fell spinning intoa heap. The prisoner saw him writhing in the dust with blood spurtingfrom his mouth. 

"Halt!" called the corporal, suddenly turning pale. 

The soldiers stopped and stared about them. A wisp of smoke rose froma thicket on the height above. Another bullet sang to its accompanyingreport and the corporal, wounded in the thigh, doubled over vomitingcurses. The column was attacked by men hidden among the rocks above. 

Sullen with rage the corporal motioned toward the string of prisonersand laconically ordered, "Fire!"

The wretches fell upon their knees, filled with consternation. Asthey could not lift their hands, they begged for mercy by kissingthe dust or bowing their heads--one talked of his children, anotherof his mother who would be left unprotected, one promised money, another called upon God--but the muzzles were quickly lowered and ahideous volley silenced them all. 

Then began the sharpshooting against those who were behind the rocksabove, over which a light cloud of smoke began to hover. To judge fromthe scarcity of their shots, the invisible enemies could not havemore than three rifles. As they advanced firing, the guards soughtcover behind tree-trunks or crouched down as they attempted to scalethe height. Splintered rocks leaped up, broken twigs fell from trees, patches of earth were torn up, and the first guard who attempted theascent rolled back with a bullet through his shoulder. 

The hidden enemy had the advantage of position, but the valiantguards, who did not know how to flee, were on the point of retiring, for they had paused, unwilling to advance; that fight against theinvisible unnerved them. Smoke and rocks alone could be seen--not avoice was heard, not a shadow appeared; they seemed to be fightingwith the mountain. 

"Shoot, Carolino! What are you aiming at?" called the corporal. 

At that instant a man appeared upon a rock, making signs with hisrifle. 

"Shoot him!" ordered the corporal with a foul oath. 

Three guards obeyed the order, but the man continued standing there, calling out at the top of his voice something unintelligible. 

Carolino paused, thinking that he recognized something familiar aboutthat figure, which stood out plainly in the sunlight. But the corporalthreatened to tie him up if he did not fire, so Carolino took aim andthe report of his rifle was heard. The man on the rock spun aroundand disappeared with a cry that left Carolino horror-stricken. 

Then followed a rustling in the bushes, indicating that those withinwere scattering in all directions, so the soldiers boldly advanced, now that there was no more resistance. Another man appeared upon therock, waving a spear, and they fired at him. He sank down slowly, catching at the branch of a tree, but with another volley fell facedownwards on the rock. 

The guards climbed on nimbly, with bayonets fixed ready for ahand-to-hand fight. Carolino alone moved forward reluctantly, witha wandering, gloomy look, the cry of the man struck by his bulletstill ringing in his ears. The first to reach the spot found an oldman dying, stretched out on the rock. He plunged his bayonet intothe body, but the old man did not even wink, his eyes being fixedon Carolino with an indescribable gaze, while with his bony hand hepointed to something behind the rock. 

The soldiers turned to see Caroline frightfully pale, his mouthhanging open, with a look in which glimmered the last spark of reason, for Carolino, who was no other than Tano, Cabesang Tales' son, andwho had just returned from the Carolines, recognized in the dyingman his grandfather, Tandang Selo. No longer able to speak, the oldman's dying eyes uttered a whole poem of grief--and then a corpse, he still continued to point to something behind the rock. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

CONCLUSION

In his solitary retreat on the shore of the sea, whose mobile surfacewas visible through the open, windows, extending outward until itmingled with the horizon, Padre Florentino was relieving the monotonyby playing on his harmonium sad and melancholy tunes, to which thesonorous roar of the surf and the sighing of the treetops of theneighboring wood served as accompaniments. Notes long, full, mournfulas a prayer, yet still vigorous, escaped from the old instrument. PadreFlorentino, who was an accomplished musician, was improvising, and, as he was alone, gave free rein to the sadness in his heart. 

For the truth was that the old man was very sad. His good friend, DonTiburcio de Espadaña, had just left him, fleeing from the persecutionof his wife. That morning he had received a note from the lieutenantof the Civil Guard, which ran thus:

 MY DEAR CHAPLAIN, --I have just received from the commandant a telegram that says, "Spaniard hidden house Padre Florentino capture forward alive dead. " As the telegram is quite explicit, warn your friend not to be there when I come to arrest him at eight tonight. 

 Affectionately, PEREZ

 Burn this note. 

"T-that V-victorina!" Don Tiburcio had stammered. "S-she's c-capableof having me s-shot!"

Padre Florentino was unable to reassure him. Vainly he pointedout to him that the word _cojera_ should have read _cogerá_, [77] and that the hidden Spaniard could not be Don Tiburcio, but the jeweler Simoun, who two days before had arrived, woundedand a fugitive, begging for shelter. But Don Tiburcio would not beconvinced--_cojera_ was his own lameness, his personal description, and it was an intrigue of Victorina's to get him back alive or dead, as Isagani had written from Manila. So the poor Ulysses had left thepriest's house to conceal himself in the hut of a woodcutter. 

No doubt was entertained by Padre Florentino that the Spaniard wantedwas the jeweler Simoun, who had arrived mysteriously, himself carryingthe jewel-chest, bleeding, morose, and exhausted. With the free andcordial Filipino hospitality, the priest had taken him in, withoutasking indiscreet questions, and as news of the events in Manila hadnot yet reached his ears he was unable to understand the situationclearly. The only conjecture that occurred to him was that the General, the jeweler's friend and protector, being gone, probably his enemies, the victims of wrong and abuse, were now rising and calling forvengeance, and that the acting Governor was pursuing him to make himdisgorge the wealth he had accumulated--hence his flight. But whencecame his wounds? Had he tried to commit suicide? Were they the resultof personal revenge? Or were they merely caused by an accident, asSimoun claimed? Had they been received in escaping from the forcethat was pursuing him?

This last conjecture was the one that seemed to have the greatestappearance of probability, being further strengthened by the telegramreceived and Simoun's decided unwillingness from the start to betreated by the doctor from the capital. The jeweler submitted onlyto the ministrations of Don Tiburcio, and even to them with markeddistrust. In this situation Padre Florentino was asking himself whatline of conduct he should pursue when the Civil Guard came to arrestSimoun. His condition would not permit his removal, much less a longjourney--but the telegram said alive or dead. 

Padre Florentine ceased playing and approached the window to gazeout at the sea, whose desolate surface was without a ship, withouta sail--it gave him no suggestion. A solitary islet outlinedin the distance spoke only of solitude and made the space morelonely. Infinity is at times despairingly mute. 

The old man was trying to analyze the sad and ironical smile withwhich Simoun had received the news that he was to be arrested. What didthat smile mean? And that other smile, still sadder and more ironical, with which he received the news that they would not come before eightat night? What did all this mystery signify? Why did Simoun refuseto hide? There came into his mind the celebrated saying of St. JohnChrysostom when he was defending the eunuch Eutropius: "Never was abetter time than this to say--Vanity of vanities and all is vanity!"

Yes, that Simoun, so rich, so powerful, so feared a week ago, andnow more unfortunate than Eutropius, was seeking refuge, not at thealtars of a church, but in the miserable house of a poor native priest, hidden in the forest, on the solitary seashore! Vanity of vanitiesand all is vanity! That man would within a few hours be a prisoner, dragged from the bed where he lay, without respect for his condition, without consideration for his wounds--dead or alive his enemiesdemanded him! How could he save him? Where could he find the movingaccents of the bishop of Constantinople? What weight would his weakwords have, the words of a native priest, whose own humiliation thissame Simoun had in his better days seemed to applaud and encourage?

But Padre Florentine no longer recalled the indifferent reception thattwo months before the jeweler had accorded to him when he had triedto interest him in favor of Isagani, then a prisoner on account ofhis imprudent chivalry; he forgot the activity Simoun had displayed inurging Paulita's marriage, which had plunged Isagani into the fearfulmisanthropy that was worrying his uncle. He forgot all these thingsand thought only of the sick man's plight and his own obligations asa host, until his senses reeled. Where must he hide him to avoid hisfalling into the clutches of the authorities? But the person chieflyconcerned was not worrying, he was smiling. 

While he was pondering over these things, the old man was approached bya servant who said that the sick man wished to speak with him, so hewent into the next room, a clean and well-ventilated apartment with afloor of wide boards smoothed and polished, and simply furnished withbig, heavy armchairs of ancient design, without varnish or paint. Atone end there was a large kamagon bed with its four posts to supportthe canopy, and beside it a table covered with bottles, lint, andbandages. A praying-desk at the feet of a Christ and a scanty libraryled to the suspicion that it was the priest's own bedroom, given up tohis guest according to the Filipino custom of offering to the strangerthe best table, the best room, and the best bed in the house. Uponseeing the windows opened wide to admit freely the healthful sea-breezeand the echoes of its eternal lament, no one in the Philippines wouldhave said that a sick person was to be found there, since it is thecustom to close all the windows and stop up all the cracks just assoon as any one catches a cold or gets an insignificant headache. 

Padre Florentine looked toward the bed and was astonished tosee that the sick man's face had lost its tranquil and ironicalexpression. Hidden grief seemed to knit his brows, anxiety was depictedin his looks, his lips were curled in a smile of pain. 

"Are you suffering, Señor Simoun?" asked the priest solicitously, going to his side. 

"Some! But in a little while I shall cease to suffer, " he repliedwith a shake of his head. 

Padre Florentine clasped his hands in fright, suspecting that heunderstood the terrible truth. "My God, what have you done? What haveyou taken?" He reached toward the bottles. 

"It's useless now! There's no remedy at all!" answered Simoun with apained smile. "What did you expect me to do? Before the clock strikeseight--alive or dead--dead, yes, but alive, no!"

"My God, what have you done?"

"Be calm!" urged the sick man with a wave of his hand. "What's doneis done. I must not fall into anybody's hands--my secret wouldbe torn from me. Don't get excited, don't lose your head, it'suseless! Listen--the night is coming on and there's no time to belost. I must tell you my secret, and intrust to you my last request, I must lay my life open before you. At the supreme moment I want tolighten myself of a load, I want to clear up a doubt of mine. Youwho believe so firmly in God--I want you to tell me if there is a God!"

"But an antidote, Señor Simoun! I have ether, chloroform--"

The priest began to search for a flask, until Simoun cried impatiently, "Useless, it's useless! Don't waste time! I'll go away with my secret!"

The bewildered priest fell down at his desk and prayed at the feetof the Christ, hiding his face in his hands. Then he arose seriousand grave, as if he had received from his God all the force, allthe dignity, all the authority of the Judge of consciences. Movinga chair to the head of the bed he prepared to listen. 

At the first words Simoun murmured, when he told his real name, the old priest started back and gazed at him in terror, whereatthe sick man smiled bitterly. Taken by surprise, the priest was notmaster of himself, but he soon recovered, and covering his face witha handkerchief again bent over to listen. 

Simoun related his sorrowful story: how, thirteen years before, hehad returned from Europe filled with hopes and smiling illusions, having come back to marry a girl whom he loved, disposed to do goodand forgive all who had wronged him, just so they would let him livein peace. But it was not so. A mysterious hand involved him in theconfusion of an uprising planned by his enemies. Name, fortune, love, future, liberty, all were lost, and he escaped only through the heroismof a friend. Then he swore vengeance. With the wealth of his family, which had been buried in a wood, he had fled, had gone to foreignlands and engaged in trade. He took part in the war in Cuba, aidingfirst one side and then another, but always profiting. There he madethe acquaintance of the General, then a major, whose good-will he wonfirst by loans of money, and afterwards he made a friend of him bythe knowledge of criminal secrets. With his money he had been able tosecure the General's appointment and, once in the Philippines, he hadused him as a blind tool and incited him to all kinds of injustice, availing himself of his insatiable lust for gold. 

The confession was long and tedious, but during the whole of it theconfessor made no further sign of surprise and rarely interrupted thesick man. It was night when Padre Florentino, wiping the perspirationfrom his face, arose and began to meditate. Mysterious darknessflooded the room, so that the moonbeams entering through the windowfilled it with vague lights and vaporous reflections. 

Into the midst of the silence the priest's voice broke sad anddeliberate, but consoling: "God will forgive you, Señor--Simoun, "he said. "He knows that we are fallible, He has seen that you havesuffered, and in ordaining that the chastisement for your faultsshould come as death from the very ones you have instigated to crime, we can see His infinite mercy. He has frustrated your plans one byone, the best conceived, first by the death of Maria Clara, then bya lack of preparation, then in some mysterious way. Let us bow toHis will and render Him thanks!"

"According to you, then, " feebly responded the sick man, "His willis that these islands--"

"Should continue in the condition in which they suffer?" finishedthe priest, seeing that the other hesitated. "I don't know, sir, I can't read the thought of the Inscrutable. I know that He has notabandoned those peoples who in their supreme moments have trusted inHim and made Him the Judge of their cause, I know that His arm hasnever failed when, justice long trampled upon and every recourse gone, the oppressed have taken up the sword to fight for home and wife andchildren, for their inalienable rights, which, as the German poet says, shine ever there above, unextinguished and inextinguishable, likethe eternal stars themselves. No, God is justice, He cannot abandonHis cause, the cause of liberty, without which no justice is possible. "

"Why then has He denied me His aid?" asked the sick man in a voicecharged with bitter complaint. 

"Because you chose means that He could not sanction, " was thesevere reply. "The glory of saving a country is not for him who hascontributed to its ruin. You have believed that what crime and iniquityhave defiled and deformed, another crime and another iniquity canpurify and redeem. Wrong! Hate never produces anything but monstersand crime criminals! Love alone realizes wonderful works, virtuealone can save! No, if our country has ever to be free, it will notbe through vice and crime, it will not be so by corrupting its sons, deceiving some and bribing others, no! Redemption presupposes virtue, virtue sacrifice, and sacrifice love!"

"Well, I accept your explanation, " rejoined the sick man, aftera pause. "I have been mistaken, but, because I have been mistaken, will that God deny liberty to a people and yet save many who are muchworse criminals than I am? What is my mistake compared to the crimesof our rulers? Why has that God to give more heed to my iniquity thanto the cries of so many innocents? Why has He not stricken me downand then made the people triumph? Why does He let so many worthy andjust ones suffer and look complacently upon their tortures?"

"The just and the worthy must suffer in order that their ideas may beknown and extended! You must shake or shatter the vase to spread itsperfume, you must smite the rock to get the spark! There is somethingprovidential in the persecutions of tyrants, Señor Simoun!"

"I knew it, " murmured the sick man, "and therefore I encouragedthe tyranny. "

"Yes, my friend, but more corrupt influences than anything elsewere spread. You fostered the social rottenness without sowing anidea. From this fermentation of vices loathing alone could spring, and if anything were born overnight it would be at best a mushroom, for mushrooms only can spring spontaneously from filth. True itis that the vices of the government are fatal to it, they causeits death, but they kill also the society in whose bosom they aredeveloped. An immoral government presupposes a demoralized people, a conscienceless administration, greedy and servile citizens in thesettled parts, outlaws and brigands in the mountains. Like master, like slave! Like government, like country!"

A brief pause ensued, broken at length by the sick man's voice. "Then, what can be done?"

"Suffer and work!"

"Suffer--work!" echoed the sick man bitterly. "Ah, it's easy to saythat, when you are not suffering, when the work is rewarded. If yourGod demands such great sacrifices from man, man who can scarcelycount upon the present and doubts the future, if you had seen whatI have, the miserable, the wretched, suffering unspeakable torturesfor crimes they have not committed, murdered to cover up the faultsand incapacity of others, poor fathers of families torn from theirhomes to work to no purpose upon highways that are destroyed each dayand seem only to serve for sinking families into want. Ah, to suffer, to work, is the will of God! Convince them that their murder is theirsalvation, that their work is the prosperity of the home! To suffer, to work! What God is that?"

"A very just God, Señor Simoun, " replied the priest. "A God whochastises our lack of faith, our vices, the little esteem in whichwe hold dignity and the civic virtues. We tolerate vice, we makeourselves its accomplices, at times we applaud it, and it is just, very just that we suffer the consequences, that our children sufferthem. It is the God of liberty, Señor Simoun, who obliges us tolove it, by making the yoke heavy for us--a God of mercy, of equity, who while He chastises us, betters us and only grants prosperity tohim who has merited it through his efforts. The school of sufferingtempers, the arena of combat strengthens the soul. 

"I do not mean to say that our liberty will be secured at the sword'spoint, for the sword plays but little part in modern affairs, but thatwe must secure it by making ourselves worthy of it, by exalting theintelligence and the dignity of the individual, by loving justice, right, and greatness, even to the extent of dying for them, --and whena people reaches that height God will provide a weapon, the idolswill be shattered, the tyranny will crumble like a house of cardsand liberty will shine out like the first dawn. 

"Our ills we owe to ourselves alone, so let us blame no one. If Spainshould see that we were less complaisant with tyranny and more disposedto struggle and suffer for our rights, Spain would be the first togrant us liberty, because when the fruit of the womb reaches maturitywoe unto the mother who would stifle it! So, while the Filipino peoplehas not sufficient energy to proclaim, with head erect and bosom bared, its rights to social life, and to guarantee it with its sacrifices, with its own blood; while we see our countrymen in private life ashamedwithin themselves, hear the voice of conscience roar in rebellion andprotest, yet in public life keep silence or even echo the words ofhim who abuses them in order to mock the abused; while we see themwrap themselves up in their egotism and with a forced smile praisethe most iniquitous actions, begging with their eyes a portion ofthe booty--why grant them liberty? With Spain or without Spain theywould always be the same, and perhaps worse! Why independence, if theslaves of today will be the tyrants of tomorrow? And that they willbe such is not to be doubted, for he who submits to tyranny loves it. 

"Señor Simoun, when our people is unprepared, when it enters the fightthrough fraud and force, without a clear understanding of what it isdoing, the wisest attempts will fail, and better that they do fail, since why commit the wife to the husband if he does not sufficientlylove her, if he is not ready to die for her?"

Padre Florentino felt the sick man catch and press his hand, so hebecame silent, hoping that the other might speak, but he merely felta stronger pressure of the hand, heard a sigh, and then profoundsilence reigned in the room. Only the sea, whose waves were rippledby the night breeze, as though awaking from the heat of the day, sent its hoarse roar, its eternal chant, as it rolled against thejagged rocks. The moon, now free from the sun's rivalry, peacefullycommanded the sky, and the trees of the forest bent down toward oneanother, telling their ancient legends in mysterious murmurs borneon the wings of the wind. 

The sick man said nothing, so Padre Florentino, deeply thoughtful, murmured: "Where are the youth who will consecrate their golden hours, their illusions, and their enthusiasm to the welfare of their nativeland? Where are the youth who will generously pour out their blood towash away so much shame, so much crime, so much abomination? Pure andspotless must the victim be that the sacrifice may be acceptable! Whereare you, youth, who will embody in yourselves the vigor of life thathas left our veins, the purity of ideas that has been contaminatedin our brains, the fire of enthusiasm that has been quenched in ourhearts? We await you, O youth! Come, for we await you!"

Feeling his eyes moisten he withdrew his hand from that of the sickman, arose, and went to the window to gaze out upon the wide surfaceof the sea. He was drawn from his meditation by gentle raps at thedoor. It was the servant asking if he should bring a light. 

When the priest returned to the sick man and looked at him in thelight of the lamp, motionless, his eyes closed, the hand that hadpressed his lying open and extended along the edge of the bed, he thought for a moment that he was sleeping, but noticing that hewas not breathing touched him gently, and then realized that he wasdead. His body had already commenced to turn cold. The priest fellupon his knees and prayed. 

When he arose and contemplated the corpse, in whose features weredepicted the deepest grief, the tragedy of a whole wasted life whichhe was carrying over there beyond death, the old man shuddered andmurmured, "God have mercy on those who turned him from the straightpath!"

While the servants summoned by him fell upon their knees and prayedfor the dead man, curious and bewildered as they gazed toward thebed, reciting requiem after requiem, Padre Florentino took from acabinet the celebrated steel chest that contained Simoun's fabulouswealth. He hesitated for a moment, then resolutely descended thestairs and made his way to the cliff where Isagani was accustomed tosit and gaze into the depths of the sea. 

Padre Florentino looked down at his feet. There below he saw the darkbillows of the Pacific beating into the hollows of the cliff, producingsonorous thunder, at the same time that, smitten by the moonbeams, the waves and foam glittered like sparks of fire, like handfuls ofdiamonds hurled into the air by some jinnee of the abyss. He gazedabout him. He was alone. The solitary coast was lost in the distanceamid the dim cloud that the moonbeams played through, until it mingledwith the horizon. The forest murmured unintelligible sounds. 

Then the old man, with an effort of his herculean arms, hurled thechest into space, throwing it toward the sea. It whirled over and overseveral times and descended rapidly in a slight curve, reflecting themoonlight on its polished surface. The old man saw the drops of waterfly and heard a loud splash as the abyss closed over and swallowed upthe treasure. He waited for a few moments to see if the depths wouldrestore anything, but the wave rolled on as mysteriously as before, without adding a fold to its rippling surface, as though into theimmensity of the sea a pebble only had been dropped. 

"May Nature guard you in her deep abysses among the pearls and coralsof her eternal seas, " then said the priest, solemnly extending hishands. "When for some holy and sublime purpose man may need you, Godwill in his wisdom draw you from the bosom of the waves. Meanwhile, there you will not work woe, you will not distort justice, you willnot foment avarice!"

GLOSSARY

_abá:_ A Tagalog exclamation of wonder, surprise, etc. , often usedto introduce or emphasize a contradictory statement. 

_alcalde:_ Governor of a province or district, with both executiveand judicial authority. 

_Ayuntamiento:_ A city corporation or council, and by extensionthe building in which it has its offices; specifically, in Manila, the capitol. 

_balete:_ The Philippine banyan, a tree sacred in Malay folk-lore. 

_banka:_ A dugout canoe with bamboo supports or outriggers. 

_batalan:_ The platform of split bamboo attached to a _nipa_ house. 

_batikúlin:_ A variety of easily-turned wood, used in carving. 

_bibinka:_ A sweetmeat made of sugar or molasses and rice-flour, commonly sold in the small shops. 

_buyera:_ A woman who prepares and sells the _buyo_. 

_buyo:_ The masticatory prepared by wrapping a piece of areca-nutwith a little shell-lime in a betel-leaf--the _pan_ of British India. 

_cabesang:_ Title of a _cabeza de barangay;_ given by courtesy tohis wife also. 

_cabeza de barangay:_ Headman and tax-collector for a group of aboutfifty families, for whose "tribute" he was personally responsible. 

_calesa:_ A two-wheeled chaise with folding top. 

_calle:_ Street (Spanish). 

_camisa:_ 1. A loose, collarless shirt of transparent material wornby men outside the trousers. 2. A thin, transparent waist with flowingsleeves, worn by women. 

_capitan:_ "Captain, " a title used in addressing or referring to agobernadorcillo, or a former occupant of that office. 

_carambas:_ A Spanish exclamation denoting surprise or displeasure. 

_carbineer:_ Internal-revenue guard. 

_carromata:_ A small two-wheeled vehicle with a fixed top. 

_casco:_ A flat-bottomed freight barge. 

_cayman:_ The Philippine crocodile. 

_cedula:_ Certificate of registration and receipt for poll-tax. 

_chongka:_ A child's game played with pebbles or cowry-shells. 

_cigarrera:_ A woman working in a cigar or cigarette factory. 

_Civil Guard:_ Internal quasi-military police force of Spanish officersand native soldiers. 

_cochero:_ Carriage driver, coachman. 

_cuarto:_ A copper coin, one hundred and sixty of which were equalin value to a silver peso. 

_filibuster:_ A native of the Philippines who was accused of advocatingtheir separation from Spain. 

_filibusterism:_ See _filibuster_. 

_gobernadorcillo:_ "Petty governor, " the principal municipalofficial--also, in Manila, the head of a commercial guild. 

_gumamela:_ The hibiscus, common as a garden shrub in the Philippines. 

_Indian:_ The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of thePhilippines was _indio_ (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the name _Filipino_ being generally applied in a restricted sense tothe children of Spaniards born in the Islands. 

_kalan:_ The small, portable, open, clay fireplace commonly usedin cooking. 

_kalikut:_ A short section of bamboo for preparing the _buyo_;a primitive betel-box. 

_kamagon:_ A tree of the ebony family, from which fine cabinet-woodis obtained. Its fruit is the _mabolo_, or date-plum. 

_lanete:_ A variety of timber used in carving. 

_linintikan:_ A Tagalog exclamation of disgust or contempt--"thunder!"

_Malacañang:_ The palace of the Captain-General: from the vernacularname of the place where it stands, "fishermen's resort. "

_Malecon:_ A drive along the bay shore of Manila, opposite theWalled City. 

_Mestizo:_ A person of mixed Filipino and Spanish blood; sometimesapplied also to a person of mixed Filipino and Chinese blood. 

_nakú:_ A Tagalog exclamation of surprise, wonder, etc. 

_narra:_ The Philippine mahogany. 

_nipa:_ Swamp palm, with the imbricated leaves of which the roofsand sides of the common native houses are constructed. 

_novena:_ A devotion consisting of prayers recited for nine consecutivedays, asking for some special favor; also, a booklet of these prayers. 

_panguingui:_ A complicated card-game, generally for small stakes, played with a monte deck. 

_panguinguera:_ A woman addicted to _panguingui_, this being chieflya feminine diversion in the Philippines. 

_pansit:_ A soup made of Chinese vermicelli. 

_pansitería:_ A shop where _pansit_ is prepared and sold. 

_pañuelo:_ A starched neckerchief folded stiffly over the shoulders, fastened in front and falling in a point behind: the most distinctiveportion of the customary dress of Filipino women. 

_peso:_ A silver coin, either the Spanish peso or the Mexican dollar, about the size of an American dollar and of approximately halfits value. 

_petate:_ Sleeping-mat woven from palm leaves. 

_piña:_ Fine cloth made from pineapple-leaf fibers. 

_Provincial:_ The head of a religious order in the Philippines. 

_puñales:_ "Daggers!"

_querida:_ A paramour, mistress: from the Spanish "beloved. "

_real:_ One-eighth of a peso, twenty cuartos. 

_sala:_ The principal room in the more pretentious Philippine houses. 

_salakot:_ Wide hat of palm or bamboo, distinctively Filipino. 

_sampaguita:_ The Arabian jasmine: a small, white, very fragrantflower, extensively cultivated, and worn in chaplets and rosaries bywomen and girls--the typical Philippine flower. 

_sipa_: A game played with a hollow ball of plaited bamboo or rattan, by boys standing in a circle, who by kicking it with their heelsendeavor to keep it from striking the ground. 

_soltada_: A bout between fighting-cocks. 

_'Susmariosep_: A common exclamation: contraction of the Spanish, _Jesús, María, y José_, the Holy Family. 

_tabi_: The cry used by carriage drivers to warn pedestrians. 

_tabú_: A utensil fashioned from half of a coconut shell. 

_tajú_: A thick beverage prepared from bean-meal and syrup. 

_tampipi_: A telescopic basket of woven palm, bamboo, or rattan. 

_Tandang_: A title of respect for an old man: from the Tagalog termfor "old. "

_tapis_: A piece of dark cloth or lace, often richly worked orembroidered, worn at the waist somewhat in the fashion of an apron;a distinctive portion of the native women's attire, especially amongthe Tagalogs. 

_tatakut_: The Tagalog term for "fear. "

_teniente-mayor_: "Senior lieutenant, " the senior member of the towncouncil and substitute for the gobernadorcillo. 

_tertiary sister_: A member of a lay society affiliated with a regularmonastic order. 

_tienda_: A shop or stall for the sale of merchandise. 

_tikbalang_: An evil spirit, capable of assuming various forms, butsaid to appear usually as a tall black man with disproportionatelylong legs: the "bogey man" of Tagalog children. 

_tulisan_: Outlaw, bandit. Under the old régime in the Philippines the_tulisanes_ were those who, on account of real or fancied grievancesagainst the authorities, or from fear of punishment for crime, or from an instinctive desire to return to primitive simplicity, foreswore life in the towns "under the bell, " and made their homesin the mountains or other remote places. Gathered in small bands withsuch arms as they could secure, they sustained themselves by highwayrobbery and the levying of black-mail from the country folk. 

NOTES

[1] The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of thePhilippines was _indio_ (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the name _filipino_ being generally applied in a restricted sense tothe children of Spaniards born in the Islands. --Tr. 

[2] Now generally known as the Mariquina. --Tr. 

[3] This bridge, constructed in Lukban under the supervision ofa Franciscan friar, was jocularly referred to as the _Puente deCapricho, _ being apparently an ignorant blunder in the right direction, since it was declared in an official report made by Spanish engineersin 1852 to conform to no known principle of scientific construction, and yet proved to be strong and durable. --Tr. 

[4] Don Custodio's gesture indicates money. --Tr. 

[5] Duck eggs, that are allowed to advance well into the ducklingstage, then boiled and eaten. The señora is sneering at a customamong some of her own people. --Tr. 

[6] The Jesuit College in Manila, established in 1859. --Tr. 

[7] Natives of Spain; to distinguish them from the Filipinos, _i. E. , _descendants of Spaniards born in the Philippines. See Glossary:"Indian. "--Tr. 

[8] It was a common saying among the old Filipinos that the Spaniards(white men) were fire (activity), while they themselves were water(passivity). --Tr. 

[9] The "liberal" demonstrations in Manila, and the mutiny in theCavite Arsenal, resulting in the garroting of the three nativepriests to whom this work was dedicated: the first of a series offatal mistakes, culminating in the execution of the author, that costSpain the loyalty of the Filipinos. --Tr. 

[10] Archbishop of Manila from 1767 to 1787. --Tr. 

[11] "Between this island (Talim) and Halahala point extends a straita mile wide and a league long, which the Indians call 'Kinabutasan, 'a name that in their language means 'place that was cleft open';from which it is inferred that in other times the island was joinedto the mainland and was separated from it by some severe earthquake, thus leaving this strait: of this there is an old tradition amongthe Indians. "--Fray Martinez de Zuñiga's _Estadismo_ (1803). 

[12] The reference is to the novel _Noli Me Tangere_ (_The SocialCancer_), the author's first work, of which, the present is in a waya continuation. --Tr. 

[13] This legend is still current among the Tagalogs. It circulatesin various forms, the commonest being that the king was so confinedfor defying the lightning; and it takes no great stretch of theimagination to fancy in this idea a reference to the firearms usedby the Spanish conquerors. Quite recently (January 1909), when thenearly extinct volcano of Banahao shook itself and scattered a fewtons of mud over the surrounding landscape, the people thereaboutrecalled this old legend, saying that it was their King Bernardomaking another effort to get that right foot loose. --Tr. 

[14] The reference is to _Noli Me Tangere, _ in which Sinang appears. 

[15] The Dominican school of secondary instruction in Manila. --Tr. 

[16] "The studies of secondary instruction given in Santo Tomas, in the college of San Juan de Letran, and of San José, and in theprivate schools, had the defects inherent in the plan of instructionwhich the friars developed in the Philippines. It suited their plansthat scientific and literary knowledge should not become general norvery extensive, for which reason they took but little interest in thestudy of those subjects or in the quality of the instruction. Theireducational establishments were places of luxury for the children ofwealthy and well-to-do families rather than establishments in whichto perfect and develop the minds of the Filipino youth. It is truethey were careful to give them a religious education, tending to makethem respect the omnipotent power (_sic_) of the monastic corporations. 

"The intellectual powers were made dormant by devoting a greaterpart of the time to the study of Latin, to which they attached anextraordinary importance, for the purpose of discouraging pupilsfrom studying the exact and experimental sciences and from gaininga knowledge of true literary studies. 

"The philosophic system explained was naturally the scholastic one, with an exceedingly refined and subtile logic, and with deficientideas upon physics. By the study of Latin, and their philosophicsystems, they converted their pupils into automatic machines ratherthan into practical men prepared to battle with life. "--_Census ofthe Philippine Islands (Washington, 1905), Volume III, pp. 601, 602. _

[17] The nature of this booklet, in Tagalog, is made clear in severalpassages. It was issued by the Franciscans, but proved too outspokenfor even Latin refinement, and was suppressed by the Order itself. --Tr. 

[18] The rectory or parish house. 

[19] Friends of the author, who suffered in Weyler's expedition, mentioned below. --Tr. 

[20] The Dominican corporation, at whose instigation Captain-GeneralValeriano Weyler sent a battery of artillery to Kalamba to destroythe property of tenants who were contesting in the courts thefriars' titles to land there. The author's family were the largestsufferers. --Tr. 

[21] A relative of the author, whose body was dragged from the tomb andthrown to the dogs, on the pretext that he had died without receivingfinal absolution. --Tr. 

[22] Under the Spanish régime the government paid no attention toeducation, the schools (!) being under the control of the religiousorders and the friar-curates of the towns. --Tr. 

[23] The cockpits are farmed out annually by the local governments, the terms "contract, " and "contractor, " having now been softened into"license" and "licensee. "--Tr. 

[24] The "Municipal School for Girls" was founded by the municipalityof Manila in 1864.... The institution was in charge of the Sistersof Charity. --_Census of the Philippine Islands, Vol. III, p. 615_. 

[25] Now known as Plaza España. --Tr. 

[26] Patroness of the Dominican Order. She was formally and sumptuouslyrecrowned a queen of the skies in 1907. --Tr. 

[27] A burlesque on an association of students known as the _MiliciaAngelica_, organized by the Dominicans to strengthen their hold onthe people. The name used is significant, "carbineers" being thelocal revenue officers, notorious in their later days for graftand abuse. --Tr. 

[28] "Tinamáan ñg lintik!"--a Tagalog exclamation of anger, disappointment, or dismay, regarded as a very strong expression, equivalent to profanity. Literally, "May the lightning strikeyou!"--Tr. 

[29] "To lie about the stars is a safe kind of lying. "--Tr. 

[30] Throughout this chapter the professor uses the familiar _tu_in addressing the students, thus giving his remarks a contemptuoustone. --Tr. 

[31] The professor speaks these words in vulgar dialect. 

[32] To confuse the letters _p_ and _f_ in speaking Spanish was acommon error among uneducated Filipinos. --Tr. 

[33] _No cristianos_, not Christians, _i. E_. , savages. --Tr. 

[34] The patron saint of Spain, St. James. --Tr. 

[35] Houses of bamboo and nipa, such as form the homes of the massesof the natives. --Tr. 

[36] "In this paragraph Rizal alludes to an incident that hadvery serious results. There was annually celebrated in Binondo acertain religious festival, principally at the expense of the Chinesemestizos. The latter finally petitioned that their gobernadorcillo begiven the presidency of it, and this was granted, thanks to the factthat the parish priest (the Dominican, Fray José Hevia Campomanes)held to the opinion that the presidency belonged to those who paidthe most. The Tagalogs protested, alleging their better right to it, as the genuine sons of the country, not to mention the historicalprecedent, but the friar, who was looking after his own interests, did not yield. General Terrero (Governor, 1885-1888), at the adviceof his liberal councilors, finally had the parish priest removed andfor the time being decided the affair in favor of the Tagalogs. Thematter reached the Colonial Office (_Ministerio de Ultramar_) andthe Minister was not even content merely to settle it in the way thefriars desired, but made amends to Padre Hevia by appointing him abishop. "--_W. E. Retana, who was a journalist in Manila at the time, in a note to this chapter. _

Childish and ridiculous as this may appear now, it was far from beingso at the time, especially in view of the supreme contempt with whichthe pugnacious Tagalog looks down upon the meek and complaisant Chineseand the mortal antipathy that exists between the two races. --Tr. 

[37] It is regrettable that Quiroga's picturesque butchery of Spanishand Tagalog--the dialect of the Manila Chinese--cannot be reproducedhere. Only the thought can be given. There is the same difficultywith _r's, d's_, and _l's_ that the Chinese show in English. --Tr. 

[38] Up to the outbreak of the insurrection in 1896, the only genuinelySpanish troops in the islands were a few hundred artillerymen, therest being natives, with Spanish officers. --Tr. 

[39] Abaka is the fiber obtained from the leaves of the _Musa textilis_and is known commercially as Manila hemp. As it is exclusively aproduct of the Philippines, it may be taken here to symbolize thecountry. --Tr. 

[40] Yet Ben-Zayb was not very much mistaken. The three legs of thetable have grooves in them in which slide the mirrors hidden belowthe platform and covered by the squares of the carpet. By placingthe box upon the table a spring is pressed and the mirrors risegently. The cloth is then removed, with care to raise it instead ofletting it slide off, and then there is the ordinary table of thetalking heads. The table is connected with the bottom of the box. Theexhibition ended, the prestidigitator again covers the table, pressesanother spring, and the mirrors descend. --_Author's note. _

[41] The Malay method of kissing is quite different from theOccidental. The mouth is placed close to the object and a deep breathtaken, often without actually touching the object, being more of asniff than a kiss. --Tr. 

[42] Now Calle Tetuan, Santa Cruz. The other names are still inuse. --Tr. 

[43] The _Sociedad Económica de Amigos del País_ for the encouragementof agricultural and industrial development, was established by Bascode Vargas in 1780. --Tr. 

[44] Funds managed by the government for making loans and supportingcharitable enterprises. --Tr. 

[45] The names are fictitious burlesques. --Tr. 

[46] "Boiled Shrimp"--Tr. 

[47] "Uncle Frank. "--Tr. 

[48] Messageries Maritimes, a French line of steamers in the Orientaltrade. --Tr. 

[49] Referring to the expeditions--_Misión Española Católica_--to theCaroline and Pelew Islands from 1886 to 1895, headed by the CapuchinFathers, which brought misery and disaster upon the natives of thoseislands, unprofitable losses and sufferings to the Filipino soldiersengaged in them, discredit to Spain, and decorations of merit to anumber of Spanish officers. --Tr. 

[50] Over the possession of the Caroline and Pelew Islands. Theexpeditions referred to in the previous note were largely inspiredby German activity with regard to those islands, which had alwaysbeen claimed by Spain, who sold her claim to them to Germany afterthe loss of the Philippines. --Tr. 

[51] "Where the wind wrinkles the silent waves, that rapidly break, of their own movement, with a gentle murmur on the shore. "--Tr. 

[52] "Where rapid and winged engines will rush in flight. "--Tr. 

[53] There is something almost uncanny about the general accuracy ofthe prophecy in these lines, the economic part of which is now sowell on the way to realization, although the writer of them woulddoubtless have been a very much surprised individual had he alsoforeseen how it would come about. But one of his own expressions was"fire and steel to the cancer, " and it surely got them. 

On the very day that this passage was translated and this note written, the first commercial liner was tied up at the new docks, which havedestroyed the Malecon but raised Manila to the front rank of Orientalseaports, and the final revision is made at Baguio, Mountain Province, amid the "cooler temperatures on the slopes of the mountains. " As forthe political portion, it is difficult even now to contemplate calmlythe blundering fatuity of that bigoted medieval brand of "patriotism"which led the decrepit Philippine government to play the AncientMariner and shoot the Albatross that brought this message. --Tr. 

[54] These establishments are still a notable feature of nativelife in Manila. Whether the author adopted a title already common orpopularized one of his own invention, the fact is that they are nowinvariably known by the name used here. The use of _macanista_ was dueto the presence in Manila of a large number of Chinese from Macao. --Tr. 

[55] Originally, Plaza San Gabriel, from the Dominican mission for theChinese established there; later, as it became a commercial center, Plaza Vivac; and now known as Plaza Cervantes, being the financialcenter of Manila. --Tr. 

[56] "The manager of this restaurant warns the public to leaveabsolutely nothing on any table or chair. "--Tr. 

[57] "We do not believe in the verisimilitude of this dialogue, fabricated by the author in order to refute the arguments of thefriars, whose pride was so great that it would not permit anyIsagani to tell them these truths face to face. The _invention_ ofPadre Fernandez as a Dominican professor is a stroke of generosityon Rizal's part, in conceding that there could have existed _any_friar capable of talking frankly with an _Indian_. "--_W. E. Retana, in note to this chapter in the edition published by him at Barcelonain 1908_. Retana ought to know of what he is writing, for he was inthe employ of the friars for several years and later in Spain wroteextensively for the journal supported by them to defend their positionin the Philippines. He has also been charged with having strongly urgedRizal's execution in 1896. Since 1898, however, he has doubled about, or, perhaps more aptly, performed a journalistic somersault--havingwritten a diffuse biography and other works dealing with Rizal. Heis strong in unassorted facts, but his comments, when not inane andwearisome, approach a maudlin wail over "spilt milk, " so the aboveis given at its face value only. --Tr. 

[58] Quite suggestive of, and perhaps inspired by, the author's ownexperience. --Tr. 

[59] The Walled City, the original Manila, is still known to theSpaniards and older natives exclusively as such, the other districtsbeing referred to by their distinctive names. --Tr. 

[60] Nearly all the dialogue in this chapter is in the mongrelSpanish-Tagalog "market language, " which cannot be reproduced inEnglish. --Tr. 

[61] Doubtless a reference to the author's first work, _Noli MeTangere_, which was tabooed by the authorities. --Tr. 

[62] Such inanities as these are still a feature of Manilajournalism. --Tr. 

[63] "Whether there would be a _talisain_ cock, armed with a sharpgaff, whether the blessed Peter's fighting-cock would be a _bulik_--"

_Talisain_ and _bulik_ are distinguishing terms in the vernacular forfighting-cocks, _tari_ and _sasabungin_ the Tagalog terms for "gaff"and "game-cock, " respectively. 

The Tagalog terminology of the cockpit and monkish Latin certainlymake a fearful and wonderful mixture--nor did the author have toresort to his imagination to get samples of it. --Tr. 

[64] This is Quiroga's pronunciation of _Christo_. --Tr. 

[65] The native priests Burgos, Gomez, and Zamora, charged withcomplicity in the uprising of 1872, and executed. --Tr. 

[66] This versicle, found in the booklets of prayer, is common on thescapularies, which, during the late insurrection, were easily convertedinto the _anting-anting_, or amulets, worn by the fanatics. --Tr. 

[67] This practise--secretly compelling suspects to sign a requestto be transferred to some other island--was by no means a figment ofthe author's imagination, but was extensively practised to anticipateany legal difficulties that might arise. --Tr. 

[68] "Hawk-Eye. "--Tr. 

[69] Ultima Razón de Reyes: the last argument ofkings--force. (Expression attributed to Calderon de la Barca, thegreat Spanish dramatist. )--Tr. 

[70] Curiously enough, and by what must have been more than a merecoincidence, this route through Santa Mesa from San Juan del Monte wasthe one taken by an armed party in their attempt to enter the city atthe outbreak of the Katipunan rebellion on the morning of August 30, 1896. (Foreman's _The Philippine Islands_, Chap. XXVI. )

It was also on the bridge connecting these two places that the firstshot in the insurrection against American sovereignty was fired onthe night of February 4, 1899. --Tr. 

[71] Spanish etiquette requires a host to welcome his guest with theconventional phrase: "The house belongs to you. "--Tr. 

[72] The handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar's feast, foretellingthe destruction of Babylon. Daniel, v, 25-28. --Tr. 

[73] A town in Ciudad Real province, Spain. --Tr. 

[74] The italicized words are in English in the original. --Tr. 

[75] A Spanish hero, whose chief exploit was the capture of Gibraltarfrom the Moors in 1308. --Tr. 

[76] Emilio Castelar (1832-1899), generally regarded as the greatestof Spanish orators. --Tr. 

[77] In the original the message reads: "Español escondido casa PadreFlorentino cojera remitirá vivo muerto. " Don Tiburcio understands_cojera_ as referring to himself; there is a play upon the Spanishwords _cojera_, lameness, and _cogerá_, a form of the verb _coger_, to seize or capture--_j_ and _g_ in these two words having the samesound, that of the English _h_. --Tr.