CHAPTER XXII
MIGHT AND RIGHT.
It was about ten o'clock at night. The last rockets lazily soaredinto the dark sky, where paper balloons shone like new stars. Some ofthe fireworks had set fire to houses and were threatening them withdestruction; for this reason men could be seen on the ridges of theroofs carrying buckets of water and long bamboo poles with cloths tiedon the ends. Their dark shadows seemed descended from ethereal spaceto be present at the rejoicings of human beings. An enormous number ofwheels had been burned, also castles, bulls, caraboas and other piecesof fireworks, and finally a great volcano, which surpassed in beautyand grandeur anything that the inhabitants of San Diego had ever seen.
Now the people turned in one great crowd toward the plaza to attendthe last theatrical performance. Here and there could be seen thecolored Bengal lights, fantastically illuminating groups of merrypeople. The small boys were making use of their torches to searchfor unexploded firecrackers in the grass, or, in fact, for anythingelse that might be of use to them. But the music was the signal andall abandoned the lawn for the theatre.
The large platform was splendidly illuminated. Thousands of lightssurrounded the pillars and hung from the roof, while a number, inpyramid-shaped groups, were arranged on the floor of the stage. Anemployee attended to these and whenever he would come forward toregulate them, the public would whistle at him and shout: "There heis! There he is now!"
In front of the stage, the orchestra tuned its instruments, andbehind the musicians sat the principal people of the town. Spaniardsand rich visitors were occupying the reserved chairs. The public,the mass of people without titles or rank, filled the rest of theplaza. Some carried with them benches, not so much for seats asto remedy their lack of stature. When they stood upon them, rudeprotests were made on the part of those without benches or things tostand on. Then they would get down immediately, but soon mount up ontheir pedestals again as if nothing had happened.
Comings and goings, cries, exclamations, laughter, squibs that hadbeen slow in going off, and firecrackers increased the tumult. Here,a foot broke through a bench, and some one fell to the floor, whilethe crowd laughed and made a show of him who had come so far to seea show. There, they fought and disputed over positions, and, a littlefarther on, the noise of breaking bottles and glasses could be heard:it was Andeng. She was carrying drinks and refreshments on a traywhich she was balancing with both hands, but she had met her loverand he tried to take advantage of her helplessness by tickling....
The teniente mayor presided at the production since the gobernadorcillowas fonder of monte.
Maria Clara and her friends had arrived, and Don Filipo receivedthem, and accompanied them to their seats. Behind came the curatewith another Franciscan and some Spaniards. With the curate were someother people who make it their business to escort the friars.
"May God reward them in another life," said the old man, referringto them as he walked away from Maria Clara's party.
The performance began with Chananay and Marianito in Crispinoe laComare. Everybody had eyes and ears intent upon the stage, exceptone, Father Salvi. He seemed to have come to the theatre for no otherpurpose than to watch Maria Clara, whose sadness gave to her beautyan air so ideal and interesting that everybody looked upon her withrapture. But the Franciscan's eyes, deeply hidden in their holloworbits, spoke no words of rapture. In that sombre look one could readsomething desperately sad. With such eyes Cain might have contemplatedfrom afar the Paradise whose delights his mother had pictured to him.
The act was just ending when Ibarra arrived. His presence occasioneda buzz of conversation. The attention of everybody was fixed on himand on the curate.
But the young man did not seem to be aware of it, for he greetedMaria Clara and her friends with naturalness and sat down at theirside. The only one who spoke was Sinang.
"Did you see the volcano when they touched it off?" she asked.
"No, my little friend. I had to accompany the Governor General."
"Well, that is too bad! The curate came with us and he was tellingus stories about condemned people. What do you think? Doesn't he doit to make us afraid so that we cannot enjoy ourselves? How does itappear to you?"
The curate arose and approached Don Filipo, with whom he seemed tobe having a lively discussion. He was speaking with animation andDon Filipo replying with moderation and in a low voice.
"I am sorry that I cannot please Your Reverence," said thelatter. "Senor Ibarra is one of the heaviest tax-payers and has aright to sit here as long as he does not disturb the public order."
"But is not scandalizing good Christians disturbing the publicorder? You let a wolf into the flock. You will be held responsiblefor this before God and before the authorities of the town."
"I always hold myself responsible for acts which emanate from my ownwill, Father," replied Don Filipo, slightly inclining his head. "Butmy little authority does not give me power to meddle in religiousaffairs. Those who wish to avoid contact with him do not have tospeak to him. Senor Ibarra does not force himself on any one."
"But he affords danger. He who loves danger perishes in it."
"I don't see any danger, Father. The Alcalde and the Governor General,my superiors, have been talking with him all the afternoon, and itis not for me to give them a lesson."
"If you don't put him out of here, we will leave."
"I am very, very sorry, but I cannot put any one out of here."
The curate repented having said what he did, but now there was noalternative. He made a signal to his companion, who laboriously roseto his feet and both went out. The persons attached to the friarsimitated the priests, not, however, without first glancing with hatredat Ibarra.
Murmurs and whispers increased. Then various persons approached andsaluted the young man and said:
"We are with you. Take no notice of them."
"Who are 'them'?" he asked with surprise.
"Those who have gone out in order to avoid contact with you."
"To avoid contact with me? Contact with me?"
"Yes, they say that you are excommunicated."
Ibarra, surprised, did not know what to say and looked around him. Hesaw Maria Clara, who was hiding her face behind her fan.
"But is it possible?" he exclaimed at last. "Are we still in thedarkness of the Middle Ages? So that----"
And turning to the young women and changing his tone, he said:
"Excuse me; I have forgotten an appointment. I will return to accompanyyou home."
"Stay!" said Sinang. "Yeyeng is going to dance in the 'LaCalandria.' She dances divinely."
"I cannot, my little friend, but I will certainly return."
The murmurs increased.
While Yeyeng, dressed in the style of the lower class of Madrid, wascoming on the stage with the remark: "Da Uste su permiso?" (Do yougive your permission?) and as Carvajal was replying to her "Pase usteadelante" (Pass forward), two soldiers of the Civil Guard approachedDon Filipo, asking him to suspend the performance.
"And what for?" asked he, surprised at the request.
"Because the alferez and his Senora have been fighting and theycannot sleep."
"You tell the alferez that we have permission from the Alcalde,and that no one in the town has any authority over him, not even thegobernadorcillo, who is my on-ly su-per-ior."
"Well, you will have to suspend the performance," repeated thesoldiers.
Don Filipo turned his back to them. The guards marched off.
In order not to disturb the general tranquillity, Don Filipo saidnot a word about the matter to any one.
After a piece of light opera, which was heartily applauded, the PrinceVillardo presented himself on the stage, and challenged all the Moros,who had imprisoned his father, to a fight. The hero threatened tocut off all their heads at a single blow and to send them all tothe moon. Fortunately for the Moros, who were making ready to fightto the tune of the "Riego Hymn," [15] a tumult intervened. All of asudden, the orchestra
stopped playing and the musicians made a rushfor the stage, throwing their instruments in all directions. Thebrave Villardo was not expecting such a move, and, taking themfor allies of the Moros he also threw down his sword and shield andbegan to run. The Moros, seeing this terrible giant fleeing, found itconvenient to imitate him. Cries, sighs, imprecations and blasphemiesfilled the air. The people ran, trampled over each other, the lightswere put out, and the glass lamps with their cocoanut oil and littlewicks were flying through the air. "Tulisanes! Tulisanes!" criedsome. "Fire! Fire! Ladrones!" cried others. Women and children wept,chairs and spectators were rolled over on the floor in the midst ofthe confusion, rush and tumult.
"What has happened?"
Two Civil Guards with sticks in hand had gone after the musiciansin order to put an end to the spectacle. The teniente mayor, withthe cuaderilleros, [16] armed with their old sabers, had managed toarrest the two Civil Guards in spite of their resistance.
"Take them to the tribunal!" shouted Don Filipo. "Be careful not tolet them get away!"
Ibarra had returned and had sought out Maria Clara. The terrifiedyoung maidens, trembling and pale, were clinging closely to him. AuntIsabel was reciting the litanies in Latin.
The crowd having recovered a little from the fright and some onehaving explained what had caused the rush and tumult, indignationarose in everyone's breast. Stones rained upon the Civil Guards whowere being conducted to the tribunal by the cuaderilleros. Some oneproposed that they burn the barracks of the Civil Guards and thatthey roast Dona Consolacion and the alferez alive.
"That is all that they are good for," cried a woman, rolling up hersleeves and stretching out her arms. "They can disturb the peoplebut they persecute none but honorable men. They do nothing with thetulisanes and the gamblers. Look at them! Let us burn the cuartel."
Somebody had been wounded in the arm and was asking for confession. Aplaintive voice was heard coming from under an upset bench. It wasa poor musician. The stage was filled with the players and peopleof the town and they were all talking at the same time. Therewas Chananay, dressed in the costume of Leonor in the "Trovador,"talking in corrupted Spanish with Ratia, who was in a school teacher'scostume. There too, was Yeyeng, dressed in a silk wrapper, talkingwith the Prince Villardo. There too, Balbino and the Moros, tryingto console the musicians who were more or less sorry sights. SomeSpaniards were walking from one place to another, arguing with everyone they met.
But a nucleus for a mob already formed. Don Filipo knew what wastheir intention and tried to stop them.
"Do not break the peace!" he shouted. "To-morrow we will demandsatisfaction: we will have justice. I will take the responsibilityfor our getting justice."
"No!" some replied. "They did the same thing in Calamba. The samething was promised, but the Alcalde did nothing. We want justice doneby our own hands. To the cuartel!"
In vain the teniente mayor argued with them. The group that hadgathered showed no signs of changing its attitude or purpose. DonFilipo looked about him, in search of help. He saw Ibarra.
"Senor Ibarra, for my sake, as a favor, hold them while I seek somecuaderilleros."
"What can I do?" asked the young man, perplexed. But the tenientemayor was already in the distance.
Ibarra in turn looked about him, for he knew not whom. Fortunately, hethought he discerned Elias, in the crowd, but not taking an active partin it. Ibarra ran up to him, seized his arm and said to him in Spanish:
"For heaven's sake! Do something, if you can! I cannot do anything."
The pilot must have understood, for he lost himself in the mob.
Lively discussions were heard mingled with strong interjections. Soonthe mob began to disperse, each one of the participants becoming lesshostile. And it was time for them to do so, for the cuaderilleroswere coming to the scene with fixed bayonets.
In the meantime, what was the curate doing?
Father Salvi had not gone to bed. Standing on foot, immovable andleaning his face against the shutter, he was looking toward the plazaand, from time to time, a suppressed sigh escaped his breast. If thelight of his lamp had not been so dim, perhaps one might have seen thathis eyes were filling with tears. Thus he stood for almost an hour.
The tumult in the plaza roused him from this state. Full of surprise,he followed with his eyes the people as they rushed to and fro inconfusion. Their voices and cries he could vaguely hear even at thatdistance. One of the servants came running in breathlessly and informedhim what was going on.
A thought entered his mind. Amid confusion and tumult libertinestake advantage of the fright and the weakness of woman. All flee tosave themselves; nobody thinks of anyone else; the women faint andtheir cries are not heard; they fall; are trampled over; fear andfright overcome modesty, and under cover of darkness.... He fanciedhe could see Ibarra carrying Maria Clara fainting in his arms, andthen disappearing in the darkness.
With leaps and bounds, he went down the stairs without hat, or cane,and, almost like a crazy person, turned toward the plaza.
There he found some Spaniards reproving the soldiers. He lookedtoward the seats which Maria Clara and her friends had been occupying,and saw that they were vacant.
"Father curate! Father curate!" shouted the Spaniards to him, but hetook no notice and ran on in the direction of the house of CaptainTiago. There he recovered his breath. He saw through the transparentshade, a shadow--that adorable shadow, so graceful and delicate inits contour--that of Maria Clara. He could also see another shadow,that of her aunt carrying cups and glasses.
"Well!" he muttered to himself. "It seems that she has only fallenill."
Aunt Isabel afterward closed the shell windows and the graceful shadowcould no longer be seen.
The curate walked away from there without seeing the crowd. He waslooking at the bust of a beautiful maiden which he had before hiseyes, a maiden sleeping and breathing sweetly. Her eyelids were shadedby long lashes, which formed graceful curves like those on Rafael'svirgins. Her small mouth was smiling, and her whole countenance seemedto breathe virginity, purity and innocence. That sweet face of herson the background of the white draperies of the bed was a vision likethe head of a cherubim among the clouds. His impassioned imaginationwent on and pictured to him.... Who can describe all that a burningbrain can conceive?