Father Damaso's smile became nervous when he saw Maria Clara sittingnext Crisostomo, but, taking a chair beside the alcalde, he said inthe midst of a significant silence:
"You were talking of something, senores; continue!"
"We had come to the toasts," said the alcalde. "Senor Ibarra wasmentioning those who had aided him in his philanthropic enterprise,and he was speaking of the architect when your reverence----"
"Ah, well! I know nothing about architecture," interrupted FatherDamaso, "but I scorn architects and the simpletons who make useof them."
"Nevertheless," said the alcalde, as Ibarra was silent, "when certainbuildings are in question, like a school, for example, an expertis needed----"
"An expert!" cried the father, with sarcasm. "One needs be morestupid than the Indians, who build their own houses, not to know howto raise four walls and put a roof on them. Nothing else is neededfor a school!"
Every one looked at Ibarra, but, though he grew a little pale, hepursued his conversation with Maria Clara.
"But does your reverence consider----"
"See here!" continued the Franciscan, again cutting off thealcalde. "See how one of our lay brothers, the most stupid one wehave, built a hospital. He paid the workmen eight cuartos a day,and got them from other pueblos, too. Not much like these youngfeather-brains who ruin workmen, paying them three or four reales!"
"Does your reverence say he paid but eight cuartos? Impossible!" saidthe alcalde, hoping to change the course of the conversation.
"Yes, senor, and so should those do who pride themselves upon beinggood Spaniards. Since the opening of the Suez Canal, corruption hasreached even here! When the Cape had to be doubled, not so many ruinedmen came here, and fewer went abroad to ruin themselves!"
"But Father Damaso----"
"You know the Indian; as soon as he has learned anything, he takesa title. All these beardless youths who go to Europe----"
"But, your reverence, listen----" began the alcalde, alarmed by theharshness of these words.
"Finish as they merit," continued the priest. "The hand of God is init; he is blind who does not see that. Already even the fathers ofthese reptiles receive their chastisement; they die in prison! Ah----"
He did not finish. Ibarra, livid, had been watching him. At these wordshe rose, gave one bound, and struck out with his strong hand. The monk,stunned by the blow, fell backward.
Surprised and terrified, not one of the spectators moved.
"Let no one come near!" said the young man in a terrible voice,drawing his slender blade, and holding the neck of the priest withhis foot. "Let no one come, unless he wishes to die."
Ibarra was beside himself, his whole body trembled, his threateningeyes were big with rage. Father Damaso, regaining his senses, madean effort to rise, but Crisostomo, grasping his neck, shook him tillhe had brought him to his knees.
"Senor de Ibarra! Senor de Ibarra!" stammered one and another. Butnobody, not even the alferez, risked a movement. They saw the knifeglitter; they calculated Crisostomo's strength, unleashed by anger;they were paralyzed.
"All you here, you have said nothing. Now it rests with me. I avoidedhim; God brings him to me. Let God judge!"
Ibarra breathed with effort, but his arm of iron kept harsh hold ofthe Franciscan, who struggled in vain to free himself.
"My heart beats true, my hand is firm----" And he looked about him.
"I ask you first, is there among you any one who has not loved hisfather, who has not loved his father's memory; any one born in shameand abasement? See, hear this silence! Priest of a God of peace, thymouth full of sanctity and religion, thy heart of corruption! Thoucanst not know what it is to be a father; thou shouldst have thoughtof thy own! See, in all this crowd that you scorn there is not onelike you! You are judged!"
The guests, believing he was going to strike, made their firstmovement.
"Do not come near us!" he cried again in the same threateningvoice. "What? You fear I shall stain my hand in impure blood? Did I nottell you that my heart beats true? Away from us, and listen, priests,believing yourselves different from other men, giving yourselves otherrights! My father was an honorable man. Ask the country which venerateshis memory. My father was a good citizen, who sacrificed himself forme and for his country's good. His house was open, his table set forthe stranger or the exile who should turn to him! He was a Christian;always doing good, never pressing the weak, nor forcing tears fromthe wretched. As to this man, he opened his door to him, made himsit down at his table, and called him friend. And how did the manrespond? He falsely accused him; he pursued him; he armed ignoranceagainst him! Confiding in the sanctity of his office, he outraged histomb, dishonored his memory; his hate troubled even the rest of thedead. And not yet satisfied, he now pursues the son. I fled from him,avoided his presence. You heard him this morning profane the chair,point me out to the people's fanaticism; but I said nothing. Now,he comes here to seek a quarrel; I suffer in silence, until he againinsults a memory sacred to all sons.
"You who are here, priests, magistrates, have you seen your oldfather give himself for you, part from you for your good, die ofgrief in a prison, looking for your embrace, looking for consolationfrom any one who would bring it, sick, alone; while you in a foreignland? Then have you heard his name dishonored, found his tomb emptywhen you went there to pray? No? You are silent; then you condemn him!"
He raised his arm. But a girl, rapid as light, threw herself betweenhim and the priest, and with her fragile hands held the avengingarm. It was Maria Clara. Ibarra looked at her with eyes like amadman's. Then, little by little, his tense fingers relaxed; he letfall the knife, and, covering his face with his hands, he fled.
XXIX.
OPINIONS.
The noise of the affair spread rapidly. At first no one believed it,but when there was no longer room for doubt, each made his comments,according to the degree of his moral elevation.
"Father Damaso is dead," said some. "When he was carried away, hisface was congested with blood, and he no longer breathed."
"May he rest in peace, but he has only paid his debt!" said a youngstranger.
"Why do you say that?"
"One of us students who came from Manila for the fete left the churchwhen the sermon in Tagalo began, saying it was Greek to him. FatherDamaso sent for him afterward, and they came to blows."
"Are we returning to the times of Nero?" asked another student.
"You mistake," replied the first. "Nero was an artist, and FatherDamaso is a jolly poor preacher!"
The men of more years talked otherwise.
"To say which was wrong and which right is not easy," said thegobernadorcillo, "and yet, if Senor Ibarra had been more moderate----"
"You probably mean, if Father Damaso had shown half the moderation ofSenor Ibarra," interrupted Don Filipo. "The pity is that the roleswere interchanged: the youth conducted himself like an old man,and the old man like a youth."
"And you say nobody but the daughter of Captain Tiago came betweenthem? Not a monk, nor the alcalde?" asked Captain Martin. "I wouldn'tlike to be in the young man's shoes. None of those who were afraidof him will ever forgive him. Hah, that's the worst of it!"
"You think so?" demanded Captain Basilio, with interest.
"I hope," said Don Filipo, exchanging glances with Captain Basilio,"that the pueblo isn't going to desert him. His friends at least----"
"But, senores," interrupted the gobernadorcillo, "what can wedo? What can the pueblo? Whatever happens, the monks are always inthe right----"
"They are always in the right, because we always say they're in theright. Let us say we are in the right for once, and then we shallhave something to talk about!"
The gobernadorcillo shook his head.
"Ah, the young blood!" he said. "You don't seem to know what countryyou live in; you don't know your compatriots. The monks are rich;they are united; we are poor and divided. Try to defend him and youwill see how you are left to compromise yourself alon
e!"
"Yes," cried Don Filipo bitterly, "and it will be so as long as fearand prudence are supposed to be synonymous. Each thinks of himself,nobody of any one else; that is why we are weak!"
"Very well! Think of others and see how soon the others will letyou hang!"
"I've had enough of it!" cried the exasperated lieutenant. "I shallgive my resignation to the alcalde to-day."
The women had still other thoughts.
"Aye!" said one of them. "Young people are always the same. If hisgood mother were living, what would she say? When I think that my son,who is a young hothead, too, might have done the same thing----"
"I'm not with you," said another woman. "I should have nothing againstmy two sons if they did as Don Crisostomo."
"What are you saying, Capitana Maria?" cried the first woman, claspingher hands.
"I'm a poor stupid," said a third, the Capitana Tinay, "but I knowwhat I'm going to do. I'm going to tell my son not to study anymore. They say men of learning all die on the gallows. Holy Mary,and my son wants to go to Europe!"
"If I were rich as you, my children should travel," said the CapitanaMaria. "Our sons ought to aspire to be more than their fathers. Ihave not long to live, and we shall meet again in the other world."
"Your ideas, Capitana Maria, are little Christian," said SisterRufa severely. "Make yourself a sister of the Sacred Rosary, or ofSt. Francis."
"Sister Rufa, when I'm a worthy sister of men, I will think aboutbeing a sister of the saints," said the capitana, smiling.
Under the booth where the children had their feast the father of theone who was to be a doctor was talking.
"What troubles me most," said he, "is that the school will not befinished; my son will not be a doctor, but a carter."
"Who said there wouldn't be a school?"
"I say so. The White Fathers have called Don Crisostomoplibastiero. There won't be any school."
The peasants questioned each other's faces. The word was new to them.
"And is that a bad name?" one at last ventured to ask.
"It's the worst one Christian can give another."
"Worse than tarantado and saragate?"
"If it weren't, it wouldn't amount to much."
"Come now. It can't be worse than indio, as the alferez says."
He whose son was to be a carter looked gloomy. The other shook hishead and reflected.
"Then is it as bad as betalapora, that the old woman of the alferezsays?"
"You remember the word ispichoso (suspect), which had only to be saidof a man to have the guards lead him off to prison? Well, plibastierois worse yet; if any one calls you plibastiero, you can confess andpay your debts, for there's nothing else left to do but get yourselfhanged. That's what the telegrapher and the sub-director say, andyou know whether the telegrapher and the sub-director ought to know:one talks with iron wires, and the other knows Spanish, and handlesnothing but the pen."
The last hope fled.
XXX.
THE FIRST CLOUD.
The home of Captain Tiago was naturally not less disturbed than theminds of the crowd. Maria Clara refused to be comforted by her auntand her foster-sister. Her father had forbidden her to speak toCrisostomo until the ban of excommunication should be raised.
In the midst of his preparations for receiving the governor-generalCaptain Tiago was summoned to the convent.
"Don't cry, my child," said Aunt Isabel, as she polished the mirrorswith a chamois skin, "the ban will be raised. They will write to theholy father. We will make a big offering. Father Damaso only fainted;he isn't dead!"
"Don't cry," whispered Andeng; "I will arrange to meet Crisostomo."
At last Captain Tiago came back. They scanned his face for answers tomany questions; but the face of Captain Tiago spoke discouragement. Thepoor man passed his hand across his brow and seemed unable to framea word.
"Well, Santiago?" demanded the anxious aunt.
He wiped away a tear and replied by a sigh.
"Speak, for heaven's sake! What is it?"
"What I all the time feared," he said at last, conquering histears. "Everything is lost! Father Damaso orders me to break thepromise of marriage. They all say the same thing, even Father Sibyla. Imust shut the doors of my house to him, and--I owe him more than fiftythousand pesos! I told the fathers so, but they wouldn't take it intoaccount. 'Which would you rather lose,' they said, 'fifty thousandpesos or your soul?' Ah, St. Anthony, if I had known, if I had known!"
Maria Clara was sobbing.
"Don't cry, my child," he said, turning to her; "you aren't like yourmother; she never cried. Father Damaso told me that a young friendof his is coming from Spain; he intends him for your fiance----"
Maria Clara stopped her ears.
"But, Santiago, are you mad?" cried Aunt Isabel. "Speak to her ofanother fiance now? Do you think your daughter changes them as shedoes her gloves?"
"I have thought about it, Isabel; but what would you have me do? Theythreaten me, too, with excommunication."
"And you do nothing but distress your daughter! Aren't you the friendof the archbishop? Why don't you write to him?"
"The archbishop is a monk, too. He will do only what the monks say. Butdon't cry, Maria; the governor-general is coming. He will want tosee you, and your eyes will be red. Alas, I thought I was going tohave such a good afternoon! Without this misfortune I should be thehappiest of men, with everybody envying me! Be calm, my child, I ammore unhappy than you, and I don't cry. You may find a better fiance;but as for me, I lose fifty thousand pesos! Ah, Virgin of Antipolo,if only I have luck tonight!"
Salvos, the sound of wheels and of horses galloping, the bandplaying the Royal March, announced the arrival of His Excellency thegovernor-general of the Philippine Islands. Maria Clara ran to hidein her chamber. Poor girl! Her heart was at the mercy of rude handsthat had no sense of its delicate fibres.
While the house was filling with people, while heavy footsteps,words of command, and the hurling of sabres and spurs resounded allabout, the poor child, heart-broken, was half-lying, half-kneelingbefore that picture of the Virgin where Delaroche represents her in agrievous solitude, as though he had surprised her returning from thesepulchre of her son. Maria Clara did not think of the grief of thismother; she thought only of her own. Her head bent on her breast,her hands pressed against the floor, she seemed a lily broken bythe storm. A future for years caressed in dreams, illusions born inchildhood, fostered in youth, grown a part of her being, they thoughtto shatter all these with a word, to drive it all out of her mindand heart. A devout Catholic, a loving daughter, the excommunicationterrified her. Not so much her father's commands as her desire forhis peace of mind demanded from her the sacrifice of her love. Andin this moment she felt for the first time the full strength of heraffection for Crisostomo. The peaceful river glides over its sandy bedunder the nodding flowers along its banks; the wind scarcely ridgesits current; it seems to sleep; but farther down the banks close in,rough rocks choke the channel, a heap of knotty trunks forms a dyke;then the river roars, revolts, its waters whirl, and shake theirplumes of spray, and, raging, beat the rocks and rush on madly. Sothis tranquil love was now transformed and the tempests were let loose.
She would have prayed; but who can pray without hope? "O God!" herheart complained. "Why refuse a man the love of others? Thou givesthim the sunshine and the air; thou dost not hide from him the sightof heaven. Why take away that love without which he cannot live?"
The poor child, who had never known a mother of her own, had broughther grief to that pure heart which knew only filial and maternallove, to that divine image of womanhood of whose tenderness we dream,whom we call Mary.
"Mother, mother!" she sobbed.
Aunt Isabel came to find her; her friends were there, and thegovernor-general had asked for her.
"Dear aunt, tell them I am ill!" she begged in terror. "They willwant me to play and sing!"
"Your father has promised. Would you make your father brea
k his word?"
Maria Clara rose, looked at her aunt, threw out her beautiful arms witha sob, then stood still till she was outwardly calm, and went to obey.
XXXI.
HIS EXCELLENCY.
"I want to talk with that young man," said the general to one of hisaids; "he rouses all my interest."
"He has been sent for, my general; but there is here another youngman of Manila who insists upon seeing you. We told him you have notthe time; that you did not come to give audiences. He replied thatYour Excellency has always the time to do justice."
The general, perplexed, turned to the alcalde.
"If I am not mistaken," said the alcalde, with an inclination of thehead, "it is a student who this morning had trouble with Father Damasoabout the sermon."
"Another still? Has this monk started out to put the province torevolt, or does he think he commands here? Admit the young man!" Andthe governor got up and walked nervously back and forth.
In the ante-chamber some Spanish officers and all the functionaries ofthe pueblo were talking in groups. All the monks, too, except FatherDamaso, had come to pay their respects to the governor.
"His Excellency begs your reverences to attend a moment," said theaide-de-camp. "Enter, young man!"
The young Manilian who confounded the Tagalo with the Greek entered,trembling.
Every one was greatly astonished. His Excellency must be much annoyedto make the monks wait this way. Said Brother Sibyla: