CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE ACCURSED.
The news that the prisoners were going to depart spread quickly throughthe town. At first, the news was heard with terror; afterward, cametears and lamentations.
The members of the families of the prisoners were running aboutmadly. They would go from the convent to the cuartel from the cuartelto the tribunal, and not finding consolation anywhere, they filled theair with cries and moans. The curate had shut himself up because he wasill. The alferez had increased his guards, who received the supplicantswith the butts of their guns. The gobernadorcillo, a useless being,anyway, seemed more stupid and useless than ever.
The sun was burning hot, but none of the unhappy women who weregathered in front of the cuartel thought of that. Doray, the gayand happy wife of Don Filipo, wandered about, with her tender littlechild in her arms. Both were crying.
"Get out of the sun," they said to her. "Your son will catch a fever."
"What is the use of his living if he has no father to educatehim?" replied the dispirited woman.
"Your husband is innocent. Perhaps he will return."
"Yes, when we are in our graves."
Capitana Tinay wept and cried for her son, Antonio. The courageousCapitana Maria gazed toward the small grate, behind which were hertwins, her only sons.
There, too, was the mother-in-law of the cocoanut tree pruner. Shewas not crying; she was walking to and fro, gesticulating, with shirtsleeves rolled up, and haranguing the public.
"Have you ever seen anything equal to it?" said she. "They arrest myAndong, wound him, put him in the stocks, and take him to the capital,all because he happened to be in the cuartel yard."
But few people had any sympathy for the Mussulman mother-in-law.
"Don Crisostomo is to blame for all of this," sighed a woman.
The school teacher also was wandering about in the crowd. Nor Juanwas no longer rubbing his hands, nor was he carrying his yard stickand plumb line. He had heard the bad news and, faithful to his customof seeing the future as a thing that had already happened, he wasdressed in mourning, mourning for the death of Ibarra.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, an uncovered cart, drawn by two oxen,stopped in front of the tribunal.
The cart was surrounded by the crowd. They wanted to destroy it.
"Don't do that!" said Capitana Maria. "Do you want them to walk?"
This remark stopped the relatives of the prisoners. Twenty soldierscame out and surrounded the cart. Then came the prisoners.
The first was Don Filipo; he was tied. He greeted his wife with asmile. Doray broke into a bitter lamentation and two soldiers had towork hard to keep her from embracing her husband. Antonio, the son ofCaptain Tinay, next appeared, crying like a child--a fact which madethe family cry all the more. The imbecile, Andong, broke out in a wailwhen he saw his mother-in-law, the cause of his misfortune. Albino,the former seminary student, came out with his hands tied, as didalso the twin sons of Capitana Maria. These three youths were seriousand grave. The last who came was Ibarra. The young man was pale. Helooked about for the face of Maria Clara.
"That is the one who is to blame!" cried many voices. "He is to blameand he will go free."
"My son-in-law has done nothing and he is handcuffed."
Ibarra turned to the guards.
"Tie me, and tie me well, elbow to elbow," said he.
"We have no orders."
"Tie me!"
The soldiers obeyed.
The alferez appeared on horse-back, armed to the teeth. Ten or fifteenmore soldiers followed him.
Each of the prisoners had there in the crowd his family prayingfor him, weeping for him, and calling him by the most affectionatenames. Ibarra was the only exception. Even Nor Juan himself and theschool-teacher had disappeared.
"What have you done to my husband and my son?" said Doray to Ibarra,crying. "See my poor boy! You have deprived him of a father!"
The grief of the people was changed to wrath against the young man,accused of having provoked the riot. The alferez gave orders to depart.
"You are a coward!" cried the mother-in-law of Andong to Ibarra. "Whilethe others were fighting for you, you were hiding. Coward!"
"Curses upon you!" shouted an old man following him. "Cursed be thegold hoarded up by your family to disturb our peace! Curse him! Cursehim!"
"May they hang you, heretic!" cried one of Albino's relatives. Andunable to restrain himself, he picked up a stone and threw it atIbarra.
The example was quickly imitated, and a shower of dust and stonesfell on the unfortunate youth.
Ibarra suffered it all, impassive, without wrath, without acomplaint--the unjust vengeance of suffering hearts. This was theleave-taking, the "adios" tendered to him by his town, the centerof all his affections. He bowed his head. Perhaps he was thinking ofanother man, whipped through the streets of Manila, of an old womanfalling dead at the sight of the head of her son. Perhaps the historyof Elias was passing before his eyes.
The cortege moved slowly on and away.
Of the persons who appeared in a few opened windows, those whoshowed the most compassion for the unfortunate young man were theindifferent and the curious. All his friends had hidden themselves;yes, even Captain Basilio, who forbade his daughter Sinang to weep.
Ibarra saw the smouldering ruins of his house, of the house of hisfathers where he had been born, where he had lived the sweetest daysof his infancy and childhood. Tears, for a long time suppressed,burst from his eyes. He bowed his head and wept, wept without theconsolation of being able to hide his weeping, tied as he was by theelbows. Nor did that grief awaken compassion in anybody. Now he hadneither fatherland, home, love, friends or future.
From a height a man contemplated the funeral-like caravan. He was old,pale, thin, wrapped in a woollen blanket and was leaning with fatigueon a cane. It was old Tasio, who as soon as he heard of what hadhappened wanted to leave his bed and attend, but his strength wouldnot permit it. The old man followed with his eyes the cart until itdisappeared in the distance. He stood for some time, pensive and hishead bowed down; then he arose, and laboriously started on the roadto his house, resting at every step.
The following day, shepherds found him dead on the very threshold ofhis solitary retreat.