CHAPTER II
AT THE DINNER TABLE.
Father Sibyla wore a satisfied air. He moved along tranquilly, andhis closed, thin lips showed no signs of disdain. On the other hand,the Franciscan was in a very bad humor. As he walked toward the table,he kicked over the chairs which happened to be in his way and boxed theears of one of the cadets. The lieutenant was very solemn and grave.
The two friars instinctively started for the head of the table,perhaps by force of habit, and, as might have been expected, they meton opposite sides of the same chair. Then, with ponderous courtesy,each entreated the other to sit down, giving in turn his reasons whythe other should take precedence. Every one at the table understoodhow both really felt in the matter, and all knew well that the onewho did not take the coveted seat would grumble discontentedly forthe remainder of the evening. The farce proceeded something like this:
"You take it, Brother Damaso! It is for you!"
"No, you take it, Brother Sibyla!"
"You are an old friend of the family, the confessor of its deepestmysteries; your age, your dignity, your----"
"No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the other handyou are the priest of this suburb," answered Father Damaso in aninsincere tone, without, however, leaving the chair.
"As you order it, I obey," concluded Father Sibyla, making ready tosit down.
"But I do not order it," protested the Franciscan, "I do not order it."
Father Sibyla was about to take the seat without any further regard tothe protests of his brother, when his eyes chanced to meet those of thelieutenant. According to the religious customs in the Philippines, thehighest military officer is inferior to even a convent cook. "Cedentarma togae," said Cicero in the Senate. "Cedent arma cottae," say thefriars in the Philippines. Father Sibyla, however, was a person ofsome culture and refinement, and, as soon as he noticed the expressionon the lieutenant's face, said: "Here! We are now out in the world,and not in the Church. This seat belongs to you, lieutenant!" But,to judge from the tone of his voice, he thought that, although hewas out in the world and not in the Church, the seat neverthelessbelonged to him. The lieutenant, either to save himself trouble orin order to avoid sitting between two friars, declined the honor ina very few words.
Neither of the disputants had thought of the owner of the house. Ibarrasaw him looking upon the scene and smiling with satisfaction.
"How is this, Don Santiago! Aren't you going to sit down with us?"
But all of the seats were already occupied, and Lucullus did not dinein the house of Lucullus.
"Sit still! Don't get up!" said Captain Tiago, laying his hand onthe young man's shoulder. "The fact is that this feast is given inhonor of the Virgin on account of your safe arrival. Here! Bring onthe tinola! I ordered some tinola made expressly for you, for I feelquite certain that you have not had any since you left the Philippinesa long while ago."
A large dish was brought in, still steaming and filled to the brimwith tinola. The Dominican, after murmuring the Benedicite (to whichonly a few of those present could give the response), began to servethe contents of the dish. Either from carelessness or for some otherreason, he passed to Father Damaso a plate filled with the soup andstew, but containing only two small pieces of chicken, a bony neck anda tough wing. Meanwhile the others, especially Ibarra, were eating allsorts of choice bits. The Franciscan, of course, noticed this, mussedover the stew, took a mouthful of the soup, dropped his spoon with aclatter into his plate, and pushed the dish to one side. While this wasgoing on, the Dominican appeared to be absorbed in conversation withthe young blonde. Senor Laruja had also begun to converse with Ibarra.
"How long has it been since you were last in this country?" said he.
"About seven years," responded Ibarra.
"You must have forgotten all about it."
"On the contrary, although my country seems to have forgotten me,I have always kept her in mind."
"What do you mean?" interposed the blonde.
"I mean that for over a year I have not received any news from here,so that now I feel like a total stranger. I do not yet know how orwhen my father died."
"Ah!" exclaimed the lieutenant.
"Where have you been that you did not telegraph?" asked one of theladies. "When I was married, we telegraphed to the Peninsula."
"Senora, for the last two years I have been in northern Europe,in Germany and in Poland."
"And what country of Europe do you like best?" asked the young blonde,who had been listening interestedly.
"After Spain, which is my second fatherland, oh--any free countryin Europe."
"You seem to have travelled a great deal--what is the most remarkablething that you have observed?" asked Laruja.
Ibarra appeared to be reflecting on the question. "Remarkable? Inwhat way?"
"For instance, in the life of the different peoples,--their social,political and religious life----"
Ibarra meditated for some little time. "I always made it a point tostudy the history of a country before visiting it, and I find thatnational development invariably follows perfectly natural rules. I havealways noticed that the prosperity or poverty of different peoplesis in direct proportion to their liberties or their lack of liberty,or, in other words, in proportion to the sacrifices or selfishnessof their forefathers."
"And is that all you have observed?" asked the Franciscan, with aloud laugh. Up to this time, he had not uttered a single word, buthad given his attention to the dinner. "It was not worth while tosquander your fortune for the purpose of learning such a trifle--athing that every school boy knows."
Ibarra looked at him intently, doubtful what to say. The guestsglanced at each other, fearing that a quarrel would break out. "Thedinner has been too long, and Your Reverence is affected by too muchwine," Ibarra was about to reply, but he checked himself in time andonly said: "Gentlemen, do not wonder at the familiarity with whichour old parish priest treats me. He treated me this way when I wasa child, and the years that have passed since then have not changedHis Reverence. I derive a certain amount of pleasure from it, for Iam reminded of those days when His Reverence was a frequent visitorat our house and honored my father's table."
The Dominican glanced furtively at the Franciscan, who wastrembling. Ibarra continued, rising from his chair: "You will allowme to withdraw, for I have only just arrived, and I must leavetown to-morrow. Besides, I have a great many things to do before Ileave. The dinner is practically finished, and I drink very littlewine and scarcely touch spirits. Gentlemen, here's to Spain and thePhilippines."
Saying this, he emptied the glass, which, until then, he had nottouched. The old lieutenant followed his example, but said nothing.
"Do not go!" said Captain Tiago to him in a low voice. "Maria Clarais coming immediately. Isabel has just gone to get her. The new parishpriest of your town is also coming, and he is a saint."
"I shall come to-morrow before I leave. I have to make a mostimportant visit yet to-night, and really must go!" With this he tookhis departure. In the meantime, the Franciscan had recovered himself.
"You see how it is," said he to the young blonde, gesticulating withhis dessert knife. "It is nothing but pride. He could not bear to havea priest reprove him. Can decent people believe it? This is the evilconsequence of sending young men to Europe. The Government ought toprohibit it."
That night, the young blonde wrote, among other things, in thefirst chapter of his "Colonial Studies": "How the neck and wingof a chicken in a friar's plate of tinola can disturb the gayetyof a feast!" And among his other observations were the following:"In the Philippines the most insignificant person at a dinner or afeast is the host. The owner of the house has only to remain out inthe street, and everything will go along beautifully. In the presentstate of affairs, it would be well to forbid the Filipinos to leavetheir country, and not to teach them how to read."