"I have nothing to say to him, and I'm wasting my time here."
"I also," said an Augustin. "Shall we go?"
"Would it not be better to find out what he thinks?" asked BrotherSalvi. "We should avoid a scandal, and we could remind him--of hisduty----"
"Your reverences may enter," said the aid, conducting back the youngman, who came out radiant.
The fathers went in and saluted the governor.
"Who among your reverences is the Brother Damaso?" demanded HisExcellency at once, without asking them to be seated or inquiring fortheir health, and without any of those complimentary phrases whichform the repertory of dignitaries.
"Senor, Father Damaso is not with us," replied Father Sibyla, in atone almost as dry.
"Your Excellency's servant is ill," added the humble Brother Salvi. "Wecome, after saluting Your Excellency and inquiring for his health,to speak in the name of Your Excellency's respectful servant, whohas had the misfortune----"
"Oh!" interrupted the captain-general, with a nervous smile, while hetwirled a chair on one leg. "If all the servants of my Excellency werelike the Father Damaso, I should prefer to serve my Excellency myself!"
Their reverences did not seem to know what to reply.
"Won't your reverences sit down?" added the governor in moreconventional tone.
Captain Tiago, in evening dress and walking on tiptoe, came in,leading by the hand Maria Clara, hesitating, timid. Overcoming heragitation, she made her salute, at once ceremonial and graceful.
"This signorita is your daughter!" exclaimed the surprisedgovernor. "Happy the fathers whose daughters are like you,signorita. They have told me about you, and I wish to thank you in thename of His Majesty the King, who loves the peace and tranquillityof his subjects, and in my own name, in that of a father who hasdaughters. If there is anything you would wish, signorita----"
"Senor!" protested Maria, trembling.
"The Senor Don Juan Crisostomo Ibarra awaits Your Excellency's orders,"announced the ringing voice of the aide-de-camp.
"Permit me, signorita, to see you again before I leave the pueblo. Ihave yet things to say to you. Senor acalde, Your Highness willaccompany me on the walk I wish to take after the private conferenceI shall have with the Senor Ibarra."
"Your Excellency," said Father Salvi humbly, "will permit us to informhim that the Senor Ibarra is excommunicated----"
The general broke in.
"I am happy," he said, "in being troubled about nothing but the stateof Father Damaso. I sincerely desire his complete recovery, for,at his age, a voyage to Spain in search of health would be somewhatdisagreeable. But all depends upon him. Meanwhile, God preserve thehealth of your reverences!"
All retired.
"In his own case also everything depends upon him," murmured BrotherSalvi as he went out.
"We shall see who makes the earliest voyage to Spain!" added anotherFranciscan.
"I shall go immediately," said Father Sibyla, in vexation.
"We, too," grumbled the Augustins.
Both parties bore it ill that for the fault of a Franciscan HisExcellency should have received them so coldly.
In the ante-chamber they encountered Ibarra, who a few hours beforehad been their host. There was no exchange of greetings, but therewere eloquent looks. The alcalde, on the contrary, gave Ibarra hishand. On the threshold Crisostomo met Maria coming out. Looks spokeagain, but very differently this time.
Though this encounter with the monks had seemed to him of bad augury,Ibarra presented himself in the utmost calm. He bowed profoundly. Thecaptain-general came forward.
"It gives me the greatest satisfaction, Senor Ibarra, to take youby the hand. I hope for your entire confidence." And he examined theyoung man with evident satisfaction.
"Senor, so much kindness----"
"Your surprise shows that you did not expect a friendly reception;that was to doubt my fairness."
"A friendly reception, senor, for an insignificant subject of HisMajesty, like myself, is not fairness, but favor."
"Well, well!" said the general, sitting down and motioning Crisostomoto a seat. "Let us have a moment of open hearts. I am much gratifiedby what you are doing, and have proposed you to the Government ofHis Majesty for a decoration in recompense for your project of theschool. Had you invited me, I should have found it a pleasure to behere for the ceremony. Perhaps I should have been able to save you anannoyance. But as to what happened between you and Father Damaso, haveneither fear nor regrets. Not a hair of your head shall be harmed solong as I govern the islands; and in regard to the excommunication,I will talk with the archbishop. We must conform ourselves to ourcircumstances. We cannot laugh at it here, as we might in Europe. Butbe more prudent in the future. You have weighted yourself with thereligious orders, who, from their office and their wealth, mustbe respected. I protect you, because I like a good son. By heaven,I don't know what I should have done in your place!"
Then, quickly changing the subject, he said:
"They tell me you have just returned from Europe. You were in Madrid?"
"Yes, senor, several months."
"How happens it that you return without bringing me a letter ofrecommendation?"
"Senor," replied Ibarra, bowing, "because, having heard there of thecharacter of Your Excellency, I thought a letter of recommendationwould not only be unnecessary, but might even offend you; the Filipinosare all recommended to you."
A smile curled the lips of the old soldier, who replied slowly,as though meditating and weighing his words:
"I cannot help being flattered that you think so. And yet, youngman, you should know what a weight rests on our shoulders. Here weold soldiers have to be all--king, ministers of state, of war, ofjustice, of everything; and yet, in every event, we have to consultthe far-off mother country, which often must approve or reject ourpropositions with blind justice. If in Spain itself, with the advantageof everything near and familiar, all is imperfect and defective,the wonder is that all here is not revolution. It is not lack of goodwill in the governors, but we must use the eyes and arms of strangers,of whom, for the most part, we can know nothing, and who, instead ofserving their country, may be serving only their own interests. Themonks are a powerful aid, but they are not sufficient. You inspiregreat interest in me, and I would not have the imperfection of ourgovernmental system tell in anyway against you. I cannot watch overany one; every one cannot come to me. Tell me, can I be useful toyou in any way? Have you any request to make?"
Ibarra reflected.
"Senor," he replied, "my great desire is for the happiness of mycountry, and I would that happiness might be due to the effortsof our mother country and of my fellow-citizens united to her andunited among themselves by the eternal bonds of common views andinterests. What I would ask, the Government alone can give, and thatafter many continuous years of labor and of well-conceived reforms."
The general gave him a long look, which Ibarra bore naturally,without timidity, without boldness.
"You are the first man with whom I've spoken in this country," criedHis Excellency, stretching out his hand.
"Your Excellency has seen only those who while away their livesin cities; he has not visited the falsely maligned cabins of ourvillages. There Your Excellency would be able to see veritable men,if to be a man a noble heart and simple manners are enough."
The captain-general rose and walked up and down the room.
"Senor Ibarra," he said, stopping before Crisostomo, "your educationand manner of thinking are not for this country. Sell what you ownand come with me when I go back to Europe; the climate will be betterfor you."
"I shall remember all my life this kindness of Your Excellency,"replied Ibarra, moved; "but I must live in the country where myparents lived----"
"Where they died, you would say more justly. Believe me, I, perhaps,know your country better than you do yourself. Ah, but I forget! Youare to marry an adorable girl, and I'm keeping you from her all thistime! Go--go to her! And that
you may have more freedom, send thefather to me," he added, smiling. "Don't forget, though, that I wantyour company for the promenade."
Ibarra saluted, and went out.
The general called his aide-de-camp.
"I am pleased," said he, giving him a light tap on the shoulder;"I have seen to-day for the first time how one may be a good Spaniardwithout ceasing to be a good Filipino. What a pity that this Ibarrasome day or other----but call the alcalde."
The judge at once presented himself.
"Senor alcalde," said the general, "to avoid a repetition of sceneslike those of which you were a spectator to-day--scenes, I deplore,because they reflect upon the Government and upon all Spaniards--Irecommend the Senor Ibarra to your utmost care and consideration."
The alcalde perceived the reprimand and lowered his eyes.
Captain Tiago presented himself, stiff and unnatural.
"Don Santiago," the general said affectionately, "a moment ago Icongratulated you upon having a daughter like the Senorita de losSantos. Now I make you my compliments upon your future son-in-law. Themost virtuous of daughters is worthy of the first citizen of thePhilippines. May I know the day of the wedding?"
"Senor----" stammered Captain Tiago, wiping drops of sweat fromhis brow.
"Then nothing is settled, I see. If witnesses are lacking, it willgive me the greatest pleasure to be one of them."
"Yes, senor," said Captain Tiago, with a smile to stir compassion.
Ibarra had gone off almost running to find Maria Clara. He had so muchto talk over with her. Through a door he heard the murmur of girls'voices. He knocked.
"Who is there?" asked Maria.
"I."
The voices were hushed, but the door did not open.
"It's I. May I come in?" demanded Crisostomo, his heart beginning tobeat violently.
The silence continued. After some moments, light foot-steps approachedthe door, and the voice of Sinang said through the keyhole:
"Crisostomo, we're going to the theatre to-night. Write what you haveto say to Maria Clara."
"What does that mean?" said Ibarra to himself as he slowly leftthe door.
XXXII.
THE PROCESSION.
That evening, in the light of countless lanterns, to the sound ofbells and of continuous detonations, the procession started for thefourth time.
The captain-general, who had set out on foot, accompanied by his twoaides-de-camp, Captain Tiago, the alcalde, the alferez, and Ibarra, andpreceded by the guards, to open a passage, was to view the processionfrom the house of the gobernadorcillo. This functionary had built aplatform for the recitation of a loa, a religious poem in honor ofthe patron saint.
Ibarra would gladly have renounced the hearing of this composition,but His Excellency had ordered his attendance, and Crisostomo mustconsole himself with the thought of seeing his fiancee at the theatre.
The procession began by the march of the silver candelabra, borneby three sacristans. Then came the school children and theirmaster, then other children, all with paper lanterns, shaped andornamented according to the taste of each child--for each washis own lantern-maker--hoisted on bamboo poles of various lengthsand lighted by bits of candles. An effigy of St. John the Baptistfollowed, borne on a litter, and then came St. Francis, surrounded bycrystal lamps. A band followed, and then the standard of the saint,borne by the brothers of the Third Order, praying aloud in a sort oflamentation. San Diego came next, his car drawn by six brothers of theThird Order, probably fulfilling some vow. St. Mary Magdalen followedhim, a beautiful image with splendid hair, wearing a costume of silkspangled with gold, and holding a handkerchief of embroidered pinain her jewelled hands. Lights and incense surrounded her, and herglass tears reflected the varied colors of Bengal lights. St. Johnthe Baptist moved far ahead, as if ashamed of his camel's hair besideall this gold and glitter.
After the Magdalen came the women of the order, the elder first, sothat the young girls should surround the car of the Virgin; behindthem was the curate under his dais. The car of the Virgin was precededby men dressed as phantoms, to the great terror of the children;the women wore habits like those of religious orders. In the midst ofthis obscure mass of robes and cowls and cordons one saw, like daintyjasmines, like fresh sampages amid old rags, twelve little girls inwhite, their hair free. Their eyes shone like their necklaces. Onemight have thought them little genii of the light taken prisoner byspectres. By two wide blue ribbons they were attached to the car ofthe Virgin, like the doves which draw the car of Spring.
At the gobernadorcillo's the procession stopped, all the images andtheir attendants were drawn up around the platform, and all eyes werefixed on the half-open curtain. At length it parted, and a young manappeared, winged, booted like a cavalier, with sash and belt and plumedhat, and in Latin, Castilian, and Tagal recited a poem as extraordinaryas his attire. The verses ended, St. John pursued his bitter way.
At the moment when the figure of the Virgin passed the house of CaptainTiago, a celestial song greeted it. It was a voice, sweet and tender,almost weeping out the Gounod "Ave Maria." The music of the processiondied away, the prayers ceased. Father Salvi himself stood still. Thevoice trembled; it drew tears; it was more than a salutation: it wasa supplication and a complaint.
Ibarra heard, and fear and darkness entered his heart. He felt thesuffering in the voice and dared not ask himself whence it came.
The captain-general was speaking to him.
"I should like your company at table. We will talk to those childrenwho have disappeared," he said.
Crisostomo, looking at the general without seeing him, asked himselfunder his breath: "Can I be the cause?" And he followed the governormechanically.
XXXIII.
DONA CONSOLACION.
Why were the windows of the house of the alferez not only withoutlanterns, but shuttered? Where, when the procession passed, were themasculine head with its great veins and purple lips, the flannel shirt,and the big cigar of the "Muse of the Municipal Guard"?
The house was sad, as Sinang said, because the people were gay. Hadnot a sentinel paced as usual before the door one might have thoughtthe place uninhabited.
A feeble light showed the disorder of the room, where the alferezawas sitting, and pierced the dusty and spider-webbed conches of thewindows. The dame, according to her idle custom, was dozing in afauteuil. To deaden the sound of the bombs, she had coifed her headin a handkerchief, from which escaped her tangled hair, short andthin. This morning she had not been to mass, not because she did notwish it, but because her husband had not permitted it, accompanyinghis prohibition with oaths and threats of blows. Dona Consolacionwas now dreaming of revenge. She bestirred herself at last and ranover the house from one end to the other, her dark face disquietingto look at. A spark flashed from her eyes like that from the pupilof a serpent trapped and about to be crushed. It was cold, luminous,penetrating; it was viscous, cruel, repulsive. The smallest error onthe part of a servant, the least noise, drew forth words injuriousenough to smirch the soul; but nobody replied; to offer excuse wouldhave been to commit another crime.
In this way the day passed. Meeting no opposition--her husband hadbeen invited to the gobernadorcillo's--she stored up spleen; thecells of her organism seemed slowly charging with electric force,which burst out, later on, in a tempest.
Sisa had been in the barracks since her arrest the day before. Thealferez, fearing she might become the sport of the crowd, had orderedher to be kept until the fete was over.
This evening, whether she had heard the song of Maria Clara, whetherthe bands had recalled airs that she knew, for some reason she began tochant, in her sympathetic voice, the songs of her youth. The soldiersheard and became still; they knew these airs, had sung them themselveswhen they were young and free and innocent. Dona Consolacion heard,too, and inquired for the singer.
"Have her come up at once," she said, after a moment's reflection,something like a smile flickering on her dry lips.
The sold
iers brought Sisa, who came without fear or question. Whenshe entered she seemed to see no one, which wounded the vanity ofthe dreadful muse. Dona Consolacion coughed, motioned the soldiersto withdraw, and, taking down her husband's riding whip, said in asinister voice:
"Vamos, magcanter icau!"
It was an order to sing, in a mixture of Castilian and Tagalo. DonaConsolacion affected ignorance of her native tongue, thinking thus togive herself the air of a veritable Orofea, as she said in her attemptat Europea. For if she martyred the Tagalo, she treated Castilianworse, though her husband, and chairs and shoes, had contributed togiving her lessons.
Sisa had been happy enough not to understand. The forehead of theshrew unknotted a bit, and a look of satisfaction animated her face.
"Tell this woman to sing!" she said to the orderly. "She doesn'tunderstand; she doesn't know Spanish!"
The orderly spoke to Sisa, and she began at once the "Night Song."
At first Dona Consolacion listened with a mocking smile, but littleby little it left her lips. She became attentive, then serious. Herdry and withered heart received the rain. "The sadness, the cold,the dew come down from the sky in the mantle of the night," seemedto fall upon her heart; she understood "the flower, full of vanity,and prodigal with its splendors in the sun, now, at the fall of day,withered and stained, repentant and disillusioned, trying to raiseits poor petals toward heaven, begging a shade to hide it from themockery of the sun, who had seen it in its pomp, and was laughing atthe impotence of its pride; begging also a drop of dew to be let fallupon it."