initial commit of ebook 10676HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 04:34:58 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 04:34:58 -0700
commit: 6ab41d22a3692a7c53ae7ba4e8fb450288e02da3 (patch)
tree: 15233a15dfcabf0d472a0eacfba49b6995f09973 /10676-h
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+<meta name="author" content="José Rizal (1861–1896)">
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+<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Reign of Greed">
+<meta name="DC.Creator" content="José Rizal (1861–1896)">
+<meta name="DC.Contributor" content="Charles Derbyshire">
+<meta name="DC.Date" content="2004-01-01">
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+<meta name="DC.Identifier" content="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10676">
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10676 ***</div>
+<div class="front">
+<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="497" height="720"></div><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e89">[<a href="#xd32e89">iii</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="titlePage">
+<div class="docTitle">
+<h1 class="mainTitle">The Reign of Greed</h1>
+</div>
+<div class="byline">A Complete English Version of <span class="sc">El Filibusterismo</span> from the Spanish of<br>
+<span class="docAuthor">José Rizal</span>
+<br>
+By
+<br>
+Charles Derbyshire</div>
+<div class="docImprint">Manila<br>
+Philippine Education Company<br>
+<span class="docDate">1912</span></div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pageNum" id="xd32e114">[<a href="#xd32e114">iv</a>]</span></p>
+<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
+<p class="first xd32e116">Copyright, 1912, by Philippine Education Company.<br>
+Entered at Stationers’ Hall.<br>
+<span lang="es">Registrado en las Islas Filipinas.</span><br>
+<i>All rights reserved</i>.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e128">[<a href="#xd32e128">v</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 introduction"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">Translator’s Introduction</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">El Filibusterismo, the second of José Rizal’s novels of Philippine life, is a story
+of the last days of the Spanish régime in the Philippines. Under the name of <i>The Reign of Greed</i> it is for the first time translated into English. Written some four or five years
+after <i lang="la">Noli Me Tangere</i>, the book represents Rizal’s more mature judgment on political and social conditions
+in the islands, and in its graver and less hopeful tone reflects the disappointments
+and discouragements which he had encountered in his efforts to lead the way to reform.
+Rizal’s dedication to the first edition is of special interest, as the writing of
+it was one of the grounds of accusation against him when he was condemned to death
+in 1896. It reads:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">“To the memory of the priests, Don Mariano Gomez (85 years old), Don José Burgos (30
+years old), and Don Jacinto Zamora (35 years old). Executed in Bagumbayan Field on
+the 28th of February, 1872.
+</p>
+<p>“The Church, by refusing to degrade you, has placed in doubt the crime that has been
+imputed to you; the Government, by surrounding your trials with mystery and shadows,
+causes the belief that there was some error, committed in fatal moments; and all the
+Philippines, by worshiping your memory and calling you martyrs, in no <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e142">[<a href="#xd32e142">vi</a>]</span>sense recognizes your culpability. In so far, therefore, as your complicity in the
+Cavite mutiny is not clearly proved, as you may or may not have been patriots, and
+as you may or may not have cherished sentiments for justice and for liberty, I have
+the right to dedicate my work to you as victims of the evil which I undertake to combat.
+And while we await expectantly upon Spain some day to restore your good name and cease
+to be answerable for your death, let these pages serve as a tardy wreath of dried
+leaves over your unknown tombs, and let it be understood that every one who without
+clear proofs attacks your memory stains his hands in your blood!
+</p>
+<p class="xd32e144">J. Rizal.”</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>A brief recapitulation of the story in <i lang="es">Noli Me Tangere</i> (The Social Cancer) is essential to an understanding of such plot as there is in
+the present work, which the author called a “continuation” of the first story.
+</p>
+<p>Juan Crisostomo Ibarra is a young Filipino, who, after studying for seven years in
+Europe, returns to his native land to find that his father, a wealthy landowner, has
+died in prison as the result of a quarrel with the parish curate, a Franciscan friar
+named Padre Damaso. Ibarra is engaged to a beautiful and accomplished girl, Maria
+Clara, the supposed daughter and only child of the rich Don Santiago de los Santos,
+commonly known as “Capitan Tiago,” a typical Filipino cacique, the predominant character
+fostered by the friar régime.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e154">[<a href="#xd32e154">vii</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Ibarra resolves to forego all quarrels and to work for the betterment of his people.
+To show his good intentions, he seeks to establish, at his own expense, a public school
+in his native town. He meets with ostensible support from all, especially Padre Damaso’s
+successor, a young and gloomy Franciscan named Padre Salvi, for whom Maria Clara confesses
+to an instinctive dread.
+</p>
+<p>At the laying of the corner-stone for the new schoolhouse a suspicious accident, apparently
+aimed at Ibarra’s life, occurs, but the festivities proceed until the dinner, where
+Ibarra is grossly and wantonly insulted over the memory of his father by Fray Damaso.
+The young man loses control of himself and is about to kill the friar, who is saved
+by the intervention of Maria Clara.
+</p>
+<p>Ibarra is excommunicated, and Capitan Tiago, through his fear of the friars, is forced
+to break the engagement and agree to the marriage of Maria Clara with a young and
+inoffensive Spaniard provided by Padre Damaso. Obedient to her reputed father’s command
+and influenced by her mysterious dread of Padre Salvi, Maria Clara consents to this
+arrangement, but becomes seriously ill, only to be saved by medicines sent secretly
+by Ibarra and clandestinely administered by a girl friend.
+</p>
+<p>Ibarra succeeds in having the excommunication removed, but before he can explain matters
+an uprising against the Civil Guard is secretly brought about through agents of Padre
+Salvi, and the leadership is ascribed to Ibarra to ruin him. He is warned by a mysterious
+friend, an outlaw called Elias, whose life he had accidentally saved; but desiring
+first to see Maria Clara, he refuses to make his escape, and when the outbreak <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e160">[<a href="#xd32e160">viii</a>]</span>occurs he is arrested as the instigator of it and thrown into prison in Manila.
+</p>
+<p>On the evening when Capitan Tiago gives a ball in his Manila house to celebrate his
+supposed daughter’s engagement, Ibarra makes his escape from prison and succeeds in
+seeing Maria Clara alone. He begins to reproach her because it is a letter written
+to her before he went to Europe which forms the basis of the charge against him, but
+she clears herself of treachery to him. The letter had been secured from her by false
+representations and in exchange for two others written by her mother just before her
+birth, which prove that Padre Damaso is her real father. These letters had been accidentally
+discovered in the convento by Padre Salvi, who made use of them to intimidate the
+girl and get possession of Ibarra’s letter, from which he forged others to incriminate
+the young man. She tells him that she will marry the young Spaniard, sacrificing herself
+thus to save her mother’s name and Capitan Tiago’s honor and to prevent a public scandal,
+but that she will always remain true to him.
+</p>
+<p>Ibarra’s escape had been effected by Elias, who conveys him in a banka up the Pasig
+to the Lake, where they are so closely beset by the Civil Guard that Elias leaps into
+the water and draws the pursuers away from the boat, in which Ibarra lies concealed.
+</p>
+<p>On Christmas Eve, at the tomb of the Ibarras in a gloomy wood, Elias appears, wounded
+and dying, to find there a boy named Basilio beside the corpse of his mother, a poor
+woman who had been driven to insanity by her husband’s neglect and abuses on the part
+of the Civil Guard, her younger son having <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e166">[<a href="#xd32e166">ix</a>]</span>disappeared some time before in the convento, where he was a sacristan. Basilio, who
+is ignorant of Elias’s identity, helps him to build a funeral pyre, on which his corpse
+and the madwoman’s are to be burned.
+</p>
+<p>Upon learning of the reported death of Ibarra in the chase on the Lake, Maria Clara
+becomes disconsolate and begs her supposed godfather, Fray Damaso, to put her in a
+nunnery. Unconscious of her knowledge of their true relationship, the friar breaks
+down and confesses that all the trouble he has stirred up with the Ibarras has been
+to prevent her from marrying a native, which would condemn her and her children to
+the oppressed and enslaved class. He finally yields to her entreaties and she enters
+the nunnery of St. Clara, to which Padre Salvi is soon assigned in a ministerial capacity.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e171">[<a href="#xd32e171">x</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="div1 epigraph"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<div class="lgouter">
+<div class="lg">
+<p class="line">O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Is this the handiwork you give to God,
+</p>
+<p class="line">This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
+</p>
+<p class="line">How will you ever straighten up this shape-;
+</p>
+<p class="line">Touch it again with immortality;
+</p>
+<p class="line">Give back the upward looking and the light;
+</p>
+<p class="line">Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
+</p>
+<p class="line">Make right the immemorial infamies,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
+</p>
+</div>
+<div class="lg">
+<p class="line">O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands,
+</p>
+<p class="line">How will the future reckon with this man?
+</p>
+<p class="line">How answer his brute question in that hour
+</p>
+<p class="line">When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
+</p>
+<p class="line">How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
+</p>
+<p class="line">With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
+</p>
+<p class="line">When this dumb terror shall reply to God,
+</p>
+<p class="line">After the silence of the centuries?
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first xd32e193">Edwin Markham
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e195">[<a href="#xd32e195">xi</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="toc" class="div1 last-child contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">Contents</h2>
+<table class="tocList">
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum small"><span class="sc">Chapter</span></td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle">
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum small"><span class="sc">Page</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">I.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch01" id="xd32e212">On the Upper Deck</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">II.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch02" id="xd32e222">On the Lower Deck</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">14</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">III.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch03" id="xd32e232">Legends</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">23</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">IV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch04" id="xd32e242">Cabesang Tales</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">30</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">V.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch05" id="xd32e252">A Cochero’s Christmas Eve</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">41</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">VI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch06" id="xd32e262">Basilio</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">48</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">VII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch07" id="xd32e272">Simoun</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">56</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch08" id="xd32e282">Merry Christmas</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">69</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">IX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch09" id="xd32e292">Pilates</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">73</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">X.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch10" id="xd32e302">Wealth and Want</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">76</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch11" id="xd32e313">Los Baños</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">88</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch12" id="xd32e323">Placido Penitente</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">104</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch13" id="xd32e333">The Class in Physics</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">114</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch14" id="xd32e343">In the House of the Students</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">127</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch15" id="xd32e353">Señor Pasta</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">139</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch16" id="xd32e363">The Tribulations of a Chinese</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">148</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch17" id="xd32e373">The Quiapo Pair</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">160</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch18" id="xd32e383">Legerdemain</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">166</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch19" id="xd32e393">The Fuse</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">175</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch20" id="xd32e403">The Arbiter</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">187</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch21" id="xd32e413">Manila Types</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">197</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch22" id="xd32e424">The Performance</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">210</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch23" id="xd32e434">A Corpse</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">225</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXIV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch24" id="xd32e444">Dreams</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">233</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch25" id="xd32e454">Smiles and Tears</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e460">[<a href="#xd32e460">xii</a>]</span></td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">245</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXVI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch26" id="xd32e465">Pasquinades</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">254</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXVII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch27" id="xd32e475">The Friar and the Filipino</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">261</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch28" id="xd32e485">Tatakut</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">273</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXIX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch29" id="xd32e495">Exit Capitan Tiago</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">283</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch30" id="xd32e505">Juli</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">288</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch31" id="xd32e515">The High Official</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">299</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch32" id="xd32e525">Effect of the Pasquinades</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">306</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch33" id="xd32e536">La Ultima Razón</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">311</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch34" id="xd32e546">The Wedding</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">320</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXV.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch35" id="xd32e556">The Fiesta</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">325</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVI.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch36" id="xd32e566">Ben-Zayb’s Afflictions</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">334</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch37" id="xd32e576">The Mystery</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">341</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVIII.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch38" id="xd32e586">Fatality</a>
+</td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">346</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIX.</td>
+<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch39" id="xd32e596">Conclusion</a> </td>
+<td class="tocPageNum">352</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><span class="pageNum" id="xd32e601">[<a href="#xd32e601">1</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="body">
+<div id="ch01" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e212">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter I</h2>
+<h2 class="main">On the Upper Deck</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="la">Sic itur ad astra.</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>One morning in December the steamer <i>Tabo</i> was laboriously ascending the tortuous course of the Pasig, carrying a large crowd
+of passengers toward the province of La Laguna. She was a heavily built steamer, almost
+round, like the <i>tabú</i> from which she derived her name, quite dirty in spite of her pretensions to whiteness,
+majestic and grave from her leisurely motion. Altogether, she was held in great affection
+in that region, perhaps from her Tagalog name, or from the fact that she bore the
+characteristic impress of things in the country, representing something like a triumph
+over progress, a steamer that was not a steamer at all, an organism, stolid, imperfect
+yet unimpeachable, which, when it wished to pose as being rankly progressive, proudly
+contented itself with putting on a fresh coat of paint. Indeed, the happy steamer
+was genuinely Filipino! If a person were only reasonably considerate, she might even
+have been taken for the Ship of State, constructed, as she had been, under the inspection
+of <i>Reverendos</i> and <i>Ilustrísimos</i>.…
+</p>
+<p>Bathed in the sunlight of a morning that made the waters of the river sparkle and
+the breezes rustle in the bending bamboo on its banks, there she goes with her white
+silhouette throwing out great clouds of smoke—the Ship of State, so the joke runs,
+also has the vice of smoking! The whistle shrieks at every moment, hoarse and commanding
+like a tyrant who would rule by shouting, so that no one on <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e623">[<a href="#xd32e623">2</a>]</span>board can hear his own thoughts. She menaces everything she meets: now she looks as
+though she would grind to bits the <i>salambaw</i>, insecure fishing apparatus which in their movements resemble skeletons of giants
+saluting an antediluvian tortoise; now she speeds straight toward the clumps of bamboo
+or against the amphibian structures, <i>karihan</i>, or wayside lunch-stands, which, amid <i>gumamelas</i> and other flowers, look like indecisive bathers who with their feet already in the
+water cannot bring themselves to make the final plunge; at times, following a sort
+of channel marked out in the river by tree-trunks, she moves along with a satisfied
+air, except when a sudden shock disturbs the passengers and throws them off their
+balance, all the result of a collision with a sand-bar which no one dreamed was there.
+</p>
+<p>Moreover, if the comparison with the Ship of State is not yet complete, note the arrangement
+of the passengers. On the lower deck appear brown faces and black heads, types of
+Indians,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e633src" href="#xd32e633">1</a> Chinese, and mestizos, wedged in between bales of merchandise and boxes, while there
+on the upper deck, beneath an awning that protects them from the sun, are seated in
+comfortable chairs a few passengers dressed in the fashion of Europeans, friars, and
+government clerks, each with his <i>puro</i> cigar, and gazing at the landscape apparently without heeding the efforts of the
+captain and the sailors to overcome the obstacles in the river.
+</p>
+<p>The captain was a man of kindly aspect, well along in years, an old sailor who in
+his youth had plunged into far vaster seas, but who now in his age had to exercise
+much greater attention, care, and vigilance to avoid dangers of a trivial character.
+And they were the same for each day: the same sand-bars, the same hulk of unwieldy
+steamer wedged into the same curves, like a corpulent dame <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e644">[<a href="#xd32e644">3</a>]</span>in a jammed throng. So, at each moment, the good man had to stop, to back up, to go
+forward at half speed, sending—now to port, now to starboard—the five sailors equipped
+with long bamboo poles to give force to the turn the rudder had suggested. He was
+like a veteran who, after leading men through hazardous campaigns, had in his age
+become the tutor of a capricious, disobedient, and lazy boy.
+</p>
+<p>Doña Victorina, the only lady seated in the European group, could say whether the
+<i>Tabo</i> was not lazy, disobedient, and capricious—Doña Victorina, who, nervous as ever, was
+hurling invectives against the cascos, bankas, rafts of coconuts, the Indians paddling
+about, and even the washerwomen and bathers, who fretted her with their mirth and
+chatter. Yes, the <i>Tabo</i> would move along very well if there were no Indians in the river, no Indians in the
+country, yes, if there were not a single Indian in the world—regardless of the fact
+that the helmsmen were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers, Indians
+ninety-nine per cent, of the passengers, and she herself also an Indian if the rouge
+were scratched off and her pretentious gown removed. That morning Doña Victorina was
+more irritated than usual because the members of the group took very little notice
+of her, reason for which was not lacking; for just consider—there could be found three
+friars, convinced that the world would move backwards the very day they should take
+a single step to the right; an indefatigable Don Custodio who was sleeping peacefully,
+satisfied with his projects; a prolific writer like Ben-Zayb (anagram of Ibañez),
+who believed that the people of Manila thought because he, Ben-Zayb, was a thinker;
+a canon like Padre Irene, who added luster to the clergy with his rubicund face, carefully
+shaven, from which towered a beautiful Jewish nose, and his silken cassock of neat
+cut and small buttons; and a wealthy jeweler like Simoun, who was reputed to be the
+adviser and inspirer of all the acts of his Excellency, the Captain-General—<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e652">[<a href="#xd32e652">4</a>]</span>just consider the presence there of these pillars <i lang="la">sine quibus non</i> of the country, seated there in agreeable discourse, showing little sympathy for
+a renegade Filipina who dyed her hair red! Now wasn’t this enough to exhaust the patience
+of a female Job—a sobriquet Doña Victorina always applied to herself when put out
+with any one!
+</p>
+<p>The ill-humor of the señora increased every time the captain shouted “Port,” “Starboard”
+to the sailors, who then hastily seized their poles and thrust them against the banks,
+thus with the strength of their legs and shoulders preventing the steamer from shoving
+its hull ashore at that particular point. Seen under these circumstances the Ship
+of State might be said to have been converted from a tortoise into a crab every time
+any danger threatened.
+</p>
+<p>“But, captain, why don’t your stupid steersmen go in that direction?” asked the lady
+with great indignation.
+</p>
+<p>“Because it’s very shallow in the other, señora,” answered the captain, deliberately,
+slowly winking one eye, a little habit which he had cultivated as if to say to his
+words on their way out, “Slowly, slowly!”
+</p>
+<p>“Half speed! Botheration, half speed!” protested Doña Victorina disdainfully. “Why
+not full?”
+</p>
+<p>“Because we should then be traveling over those ricefields, señora,” replied the imperturbable
+captain, pursing his lips to indicate the cultivated fields and indulging in two circumspect
+winks.
+</p>
+<p>This Doña Victorina was well known in the country for her caprices and extravagances.
+She was often seen in society, where she was tolerated whenever she appeared in the
+company of her niece, Paulita Gomez, a very beautiful and wealthy orphan, to whom
+she was a kind of guardian. At a rather advanced age she had married a poor wretch
+named Don Tiburcio de Espadaña, and at the time we now see her, carried upon herself
+fifteen years of wedded life, false frizzes, and a half-European costume—for her whole
+ambition had been to Europeanize herself, with the result that from the ill-omened
+day of her wedding she had gradually, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e665">[<a href="#xd32e665">5</a>]</span>thanks to her criminal attempts, succeeded in so transforming herself that at the
+present time Quatrefages and Virchow together could not have told where to classify
+her among the known races.
+</p>
+<p>Her husband, who had borne all her impositions with the resignation of a fakir through
+so many years of married life, at last on one luckless day had had his bad half-hour
+and administered to her a superb whack with his crutch. The surprise of Madam Job
+at such an inconsistency of character made her insensible to the immediate effects,
+and only after she had recovered from her astonishment and her husband had fled did
+she take notice of the pain, then remaining in bed for several days, to the great
+delight of Paulita, who was very fond of joking and laughing at her aunt. As for her
+husband, horrified at the impiety of what appeared to him to be a terrific parricide,
+he took to flight, pursued by the matrimonial furies (two curs and a parrot), with
+all the speed his lameness permitted, climbed into the first carriage he encountered,
+jumped into the first banka he saw on the river, and, a Philippine Ulysses, began
+to wander from town to town, from province to province, from island to island, pursued
+and persecuted by his bespectacled Calypso, who bored every one that had the misfortune
+to travel in her company. She had received a report of his being in the province of
+La Laguna, concealed in one of the towns, so thither she was bound to seduce him back
+with her dyed frizzes.
+</p>
+<p>Her fellow travelers had taken measures of defense by keeping up among themselves
+a lively conversation on any topic whatsoever. At that moment the windings and turnings
+of the river led them to talk about straightening the channel and, as a matter of
+course, about the port works. Ben-Zayb, the journalist with the countenance of a friar,
+was disputing with a young friar who in turn had the countenance of an artilleryman.
+Both were shouting, gesticulating, waving their arms, spreading out their hands, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e670">[<a href="#xd32e670">6</a>]</span>stamping their feet, talking of levels, fish-corrals, the San Mateo River,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e672src" href="#xd32e672">2</a> of cascos, of Indians, and so on, to the great satisfaction of their listeners and
+the undisguised disgust of an elderly Franciscan, remarkably thin and withered, and
+a handsome Dominican about whose lips flitted constantly a scornful smile.
+</p>
+<p>The thin Franciscan, understanding the Dominican’s smile, decided to intervene and
+stop the argument. He was undoubtedly respected, for with a wave of his hand he cut
+short the speech of both at the moment when the friar-artilleryman was talking about
+experience and the journalist-friar about scientists.
+</p>
+<p>“Scientists, Ben-Zayb—do you know what they are?” asked the Franciscan in a hollow
+voice, scarcely stirring in his seat and making only a faint gesture with his skinny
+hand. “Here you have in the province a bridge, constructed by a brother of ours, which
+was not completed because the scientists, relying on their theories, condemned it
+as weak and scarcely safe—yet look, it is the bridge that has withstood all the floods
+and earthquakes!”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e678src" href="#xd32e678">3</a>
+</p>
+<p>“That’s it, <i>puñales,</i> that very thing, that was exactly what I was going to say!” exclaimed the friar-artilleryman,
+thumping his fists down on the arms of his bamboo chair. “That’s it, that bridge and
+the scientists! That was just what I was going to mention, Padre Salvi—<i>puñales!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb remained silent, half smiling, either out of respect or because he really
+did not know what to reply, and yet his was the only thinking head in the Philippines!
+Padre Irene nodded his approval as he rubbed his long nose.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Salvi, the thin and withered cleric, appeared to be satisfied with such submissiveness
+and went on in the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e692">[<a href="#xd32e692">7</a>]</span>midst of the silence: “But this does not mean that you may not be as near right as
+Padre Camorra” (the friar-artilleryman). “The trouble is in the lake—”
+</p>
+<p>“The fact is there isn’t a single decent lake in this country,” interrupted Doña Victorina,
+highly indignant, and getting ready for a return to the assault upon the citadel.
+</p>
+<p>The besieged gazed at one another in terror, but with the promptitude of a general,
+the jeweler Simoun rushed in to the rescue. “The remedy is very simple,” he said in
+a strange accent, a mixture of English and South American. “And I really don’t understand
+why it hasn’t occurred to somebody.”
+</p>
+<p>All turned to give him careful attention, even the Dominican. The jeweler was a tall,
+meager, nervous man, very dark, dressed in the English fashion and wearing a pith
+helmet. Remarkable about him was his long white hair contrasted with a sparse black
+beard, indicating a mestizo origin. To avoid the glare of the sun he wore constantly
+a pair of enormous blue goggles, which completely hid his eyes and a portion of his
+cheeks, thus giving him the aspect of a blind or weak-sighted person. He was standing
+with his legs apart as if to maintain his balance, with his hands thrust into the
+pockets of his coat.
+</p>
+<p>“The remedy is very simple,” he repeated, “and wouldn’t cost a cuarto.”
+</p>
+<p>The attention now redoubled, for it was whispered in Manila that this man controlled
+the Captain-General, and all saw the remedy in process of execution. Even Don Custodio
+himself turned to listen.
+</p>
+<p>“Dig a canal straight from the source to the mouth of the river, passing through Manila;
+that is, make a new river-channel and fill up the old Pasig. That would save land,
+shorten communication, and prevent the formation of sandbars.”
+</p>
+<p>The project left all his hearers astounded, accustomed as they were to palliative
+measures.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e703">[<a href="#xd32e703">8</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“It’s a Yankee plan!” observed Ben-Zayb, to ingratiate himself with Simoun, who had
+spent a long time in North America.
+</p>
+<p>All considered the plan wonderful and so indicated by the movements of their heads.
+Only Don Custodio, the liberal Don Custodio, owing to his independent position and
+his high offices, thought it his duty to attack a project that did not emanate from
+himself—that was a usurpation! He coughed, stroked the ends of his mustache, and with
+a voice as important as though he were at a formal session of the Ayuntamiento, said,
+“Excuse me, Señor Simoun, my respected friend, if I should say that I am not of your
+opinion. It would cost a great deal of money and might perhaps destroy some towns.”
+</p>
+<p>“Then destroy them!” rejoined Simoun coldly.
+</p>
+<p>“And the money to pay the laborers?”
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t pay them! Use the prisoners and convicts!”
+</p>
+<p>“But there aren’t enough, Señor Simoun!”
+</p>
+<p>“Then, if there aren’t enough, let all the villagers, the old men, the youths, the
+boys, work. Instead of the fifteen days of obligatory service, let them work three,
+four, five months for the State, with the additional obligation that each one provide
+his own food and tools.”
+</p>
+<p>The startled Don Custodio turned his head to see if there was any Indian within ear-shot,
+but fortunately those nearby were rustics, and the two helmsmen seemed to be very
+much occupied with the windings of the river.
+</p>
+<p>“But, Señor Simoun—”
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t fool yourself, Don Custodio,” continued Simoun dryly, “only in this way are
+great enterprises carried out with small means. Thus were constructed the Pyramids,
+Lake Moeris, and the Colosseum in Rome. Entire provinces came in from the desert,
+bringing their tubers to feed on. Old men, youths, and boys labored in transporting
+stones, hewing them, and carrying them on their shoulders under the direction of the
+official lash, and afterwards, the survivors returned to their homes or perished <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e716">[<a href="#xd32e716">9</a>]</span>in the sands of the desert. Then came other provinces, then others, succeeding one
+another in the work during years. Thus the task was finished, and now we admire them,
+we travel, we go to Egypt and to Home, we extol the Pharaohs and the Antonines. Don’t
+fool yourself—the dead remain dead, and might only is considered right by posterity.”
+</p>
+<p>“But, Señor Simoun, such measures might provoke uprisings,” objected Don Custodio,
+rather uneasy over the turn the affair had taken.
+</p>
+<p>“Uprisings, ha, ha! Did the Egyptian people ever rebel, I wonder? Did the Jewish prisoners
+rebel against the pious Titus? Man, I thought you were better informed in history!”
+</p>
+<p>Clearly Simoun was either very presumptuous or disregarded conventionalities! To say
+to Don Custodio’s face that he did not know history! It was enough to make any one
+lose his temper! So it seemed, for Don Custodio forgot himself and retorted, “But
+the fact is that you’re not among Egyptians or Jews!”
+</p>
+<p>“And these people have rebelled more than once,” added the Dominican, somewhat timidly.
+“In the times when they were forced to transport heavy timbers for the construction
+of ships, if it hadn’t been for the clerics—”
+</p>
+<p>“Those times are far away,” answered Simoun, with a laugh even drier than usual. “These
+islands will never again rebel, no matter how much work and taxes they have. Haven’t
+you lauded to me, Padre Salvi,” he added, turning to the Franciscan, “the house and
+hospital at Los Baños, where his Excellency is at present?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Salvi gave a nod and looked up, evading the question.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, didn’t you tell me that both buildings were constructed by forcing the people
+to work on them under the whip of a lay-brother? Perhaps that wonderful bridge was
+built in the same way. Now tell me, did these people rebel?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e727">[<a href="#xd32e727">10</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“The fact is—they have rebelled before,” replied the Dominican, “and <i lang="la">ab actu ad posse valet illatio!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>“No, no, nothing of the kind,” continued Simoun, starting down a hatchway to the cabin.
+“What’s said, is said! And you, Padre Sibyla, don’t talk either Latin or nonsense.
+What are you friars good for if the people can rebel?”
+</p>
+<p>Taking no notice of the replies and protests, Simoun descended the small companionway
+that led below, repeating disdainfully, “Bosh, bosh!”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Sibyla turned pale; this was the first time that he, Vice-Rector of the University,
+had ever been credited with nonsense. Don Custodio turned green; at no meeting in
+which he had ever found himself had he encountered such an adversary.
+</p>
+<p>“An American mulatto!” he fumed.
+</p>
+<p>“A British Indian,” observed Ben-Zayb in a low tone.
+</p>
+<p>“An American, I tell you, and shouldn’t I know?” retorted Don Custodio in ill-humor.
+“His Excellency has told me so. He’s a jeweler whom the latter knew in Havana, and,
+as I suspect, the one who got him advancement by lending him money. So to repay him
+he has had him come here to let him have a chance and increase his fortune by selling
+diamonds—imitations, who knows? And <span class="corr" id="xd32e740" title="Source: he">he’s</span> so ungrateful, that, after getting money from the Indians, he wishes—huh!” The sentence
+was concluded by a significant wave of the hand.
+</p>
+<p>No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredit himself with his
+Excellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi,
+nor the offended Padre Sibyla had any confidence in the discretion of the others.
+</p>
+<p>“The fact is that this man, being an American, thinks no doubt that we are dealing
+with the redskins. To talk of these matters on a steamer! Compel, force the people!
+And he’s the very person who advised the expedition to <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e746">[<a href="#xd32e746">11</a>]</span>the Carolines and the campaign in Mindanao, which is going to bring us to disgraceful
+ruin. He’s the one who has offered to superintend the building of the cruiser, and
+I say, what does a jeweler, no matter how rich and learned he may be, know about naval
+construction?”
+</p>
+<p>All this was spoken by Don Custodio in a guttural tone to his neighbor Ben-Zayb, while
+he gesticulated, shrugged his shoulders, and from time to time with his looks consulted
+the others, who were nodding their heads ambiguously. The Canon Irene indulged in
+a rather equivocal smile, which he half hid with his hand as he rubbed his nose.
+</p>
+<p>“I tell you, Ben-Zayb,” continued Don Custodio, <span class="corr" id="xd32e752" title="Source: slaping">slapping</span> the journalist on the arm, “all the trouble comes from not consulting the old-timers
+here. A project in fine words, and especially with a big appropriation, with an appropriation
+in round numbers, dazzles, meets with acceptance at once, for this!” Here, in further
+explanation, he rubbed the tip of his thumb against his middle and forefinger.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e755src" href="#xd32e755">4</a>
+</p>
+<p>“There’s something in that, there’s something in that,” Ben-Zayb thought it his duty
+to remark, since in his capacity of journalist he had to be informed about everything.
+</p>
+<p>“Now look here, before the port works I presented a project, original, simple, useful,
+economical, and practicable, for clearing away the bar in the lake, and it hasn’t
+been accepted because there wasn’t any of that in it.” He repeated the movement of
+his fingers, shrugged his shoulders, and gazed at the others as though to say, “Have
+you ever heard of such a misfortune?”
+</p>
+<p>“May we know what it was?” asked several, drawing nearer and giving him their attention.
+The projects of Don Custodio were as renowned as quacks’ specifics.
+</p>
+<p>Don Custodio was on the point of refusing to explain it from resentment at not having
+found any supporters in his diatribe against Simoun. “When there’s no danger, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e763">[<a href="#xd32e763">12</a>]</span>you want me to talk, eh? And when there is, you keep quiet!” he was going to say,
+but that would cause the loss of a good opportunity, and his project, now that it
+could not be carried out, might at least be known and admired.
+</p>
+<p>After blowing out two or three puffs of smoke, coughing, and spitting through a scupper,
+he slapped Ben-Zayb on the thigh and asked, “You’ve seen ducks?”
+</p>
+<p>“I rather think so—we’ve hunted them on the lake,” answered the surprised journalist.
+</p>
+<p>“No, I’m not talking about wild ducks, I’m talking of the domestic ones, of those
+that are raised in Pateros and Pasig. Do you know what they feed on?”
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb, the only thinking head, did not know—he was not engaged in that business.
+</p>
+<p>“On snails, man, on snails!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “One doesn’t have to be an Indian
+to know that; it’s sufficient to have eyes!”
+</p>
+<p>“Exactly so, on snails!” repeated Don Custodio, flourishing his forefinger. “And do
+you know where they get them?”
+</p>
+<p>Again the thinking head did not know.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, if you had been in the country as many years as I have, you would know that
+they fish them out of the bar itself, where they abound, mixed with the sand.”
+</p>
+<p>“Then your project?”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, I’m coming to that. My idea was to compel all the towns round about, near the
+bar, to raise ducks, and you’ll see how they, all by themselves, will deepen the channel
+by fishing for the snails—no more and no less, no more and no less!”
+</p>
+<p>Here Don Custodio extended his arms and gazed triumphantly at the stupefaction of
+his hearers—to none of them had occurred such an original idea.
+</p>
+<p>“Will you allow me to write an article about that?” asked Ben-Zayb. “In this country
+there is so little thinking done—”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e779">[<a href="#xd32e779">13</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“But, Don Custodio,” exclaimed Doña Victorina with smirks and grimaces, “if everybody
+takes to raising ducks the <i>balot</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e783src" href="#xd32e783">5</a> eggs will become abundant. Ugh, how nasty! Rather, let the bar close up entirely!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e786">[<a href="#xd32e786">14</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e633">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e633src">1</a></span> The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of the Philippines was <i>indio</i> (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the name <i>filipino</i> being generally applied in a restricted sense to the children of Spaniards born in
+the Islands.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e633src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e672">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e672src">2</a></span> Now generally known as the Mariquina.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e672src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e678">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e678src">3</a></span> This bridge, constructed in Lukban under the supervision of a Franciscan friar, was
+jocularly referred to as the <i>Puente de Capricho,</i> being apparently an ignorant blunder in the right direction, since it was declared
+in an official report made by Spanish engineers in 1852 to conform to no known principle
+of scientific construction, and yet proved to be strong and durable.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e678src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e755">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e755src">4</a></span> Don Custodio’s gesture indicates money.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e755src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e783">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e783src">5</a></span> Duck eggs, that are allowed to advance well into the duckling stage, then boiled and
+eaten. The señora is sneering at a custom among some of her own people.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e783src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch02" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e222">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter II</h2>
+<h2 class="main">On the Lower Deck</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">There, below, other scenes were being enacted. Seated on benches or small wooden stools
+among valises, boxes, and baskets, a few feet from the engines, in the heat of the
+boilers, amid the human smells and the pestilential odor of oil, were to be seen the
+great majority of the passengers. Some were silently gazing at the changing scenes
+along the banks, others were playing cards or conversing in the midst of the scraping
+of shovels, the roar of the engine, the hiss of escaping steam, the swash of disturbed
+waters, and the shrieks of the whistle. In one corner, heaped up like corpses, slept,
+or tried to sleep, a number of Chinese pedlers, seasick, pale, frothing through half-opened
+lips, and bathed in their copious perspiration. Only a few youths, students for the
+most part, easily recognizable from their white garments and their confident bearing,
+made bold to move about from stern to bow, leaping over baskets and boxes, happy in
+the prospect of the approaching vacation. Now they commented on the movements of the
+engines, endeavoring to recall forgotten notions of physics, now they surrounded the
+young schoolgirl or the red-lipped <i>buyera</i> with her collar of <i>sampaguitas,</i> whispering into their ears words that made them smile and cover their faces with
+their fans.
+</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, two of them, instead of engaging in these fleeting gallantries, stood
+in the bow talking with a man, advanced in years, but still vigorous and erect. Both
+these youths seemed to be well known and respected, to judge from the deference shown
+them by their fellow passengers. The elder, who was dressed in complete black, was
+the medical <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e799">[<a href="#xd32e799">15</a>]</span>student, Basilio, famous for his successful cures and extraordinary treatments, while
+the other, taller and more robust, although much younger, was Isagani, one of the
+poets, or at least rimesters, who that year came from the Ateneo,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e801src" href="#xd32e801">1</a> a curious character, ordinarily quite taciturn and uncommunicative. The man talking
+with them was the rich Capitan Basilio, who was returning from a business trip to
+Manila.
+</p>
+<p>“Capitan Tiago is getting along about the same as usual, yes, sir,” said the student
+Basilio, shaking his head. “He won’t submit to any treatment. At the advice of <i>a certain person</i> he is sending me to San Diego under the pretext of looking after his property, but
+in reality so that he may be left to smoke his opium with complete liberty.”
+</p>
+<p>When the student said <i>a certain person</i>, he really meant Padre Irene, a great friend and adviser of Capitan Tiago in his
+last days.
+</p>
+<p>“Opium is one of the plagues of modern times,” replied the capitan with the disdain
+and indignation of a Roman senator. “The ancients knew about it but never abused it.
+While the addiction to classical studies lasted—mark this well, young men—opium was
+used solely as a medicine; and besides, tell me who smoke it the most?—Chinamen, Chinamen
+who don’t understand a word of Latin! Ah, if Capitan Tiago had only devoted himself
+to Cicero—” Here the most classical disgust painted itself on his carefully-shaven
+Epicurean face. Isagani regarded him with attention: that gentleman was suffering
+from nostalgia for antiquity.
+</p>
+<p>“But to get back to this academy of Castilian,” Capitan Basilio continued, “I assure
+you, gentlemen, that you won’t materialize it.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, sir, from day to day we’re expecting the permit,” replied Isagani. “Padre Irene,
+whom you may have noticed above, and to whom we’ve presented a team of bays, has promised
+it to us. He’s on his way now to confer with the General.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e816">[<a href="#xd32e816">16</a>]</span>
+“That doesn’t matter. Padre Sibyla is opposed to it.”
+</p>
+<p>“Let him oppose it! That’s why he’s here on the steamer, in order to—at Los Baños
+before the General.”
+</p>
+<p>And the student Basilio filled out his meaning by going through the pantomime of striking
+his fists together.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s understood,” observed Capitan Basilio, smiling. “But even though you get the
+permit, where’ll you get the funds?”
+</p>
+<p>“We have them, sir. Each student has contributed a real.”
+</p>
+<p>“But what about the professors?”
+</p>
+<p>“We have them: half Filipinos and half Peninsulars.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e826src" href="#xd32e826">2</a>
+</p>
+<p>“And the house?”
+</p>
+<p>“Makaraig, the wealthy Makaraig, has offered one of his.”
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Basilio had to give in; these young men had everything arranged.
+</p>
+<p>“For the rest,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “it’s not altogether bad, it’s
+not a bad idea, and now that you can’t know Latin at least you may know Castilian.
+Here you have another instance, namesake, of how we are going backwards. In our times
+we learned Latin because our books were in Latin; now you study Latin a little but
+have no Latin books. On the other hand, your books are in Castilian and that language
+is not taught—<i lang="la">aetas parentum pejor avis tulit nos nequiores!</i> as Horace said.” With this quotation he moved away majestically, like a Roman emperor.
+</p>
+<p>The youths smiled at each other. “These men of the past,” remarked Isagani, “find
+obstacles for everything. Propose a thing to them and instead of seeing its advantages
+they only fix their attention on the difficulties. They want everything to come smooth
+and round as a billiard ball.”
+</p>
+<p>“He’s right at home with your uncle,” observed Basilio.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e845">[<a href="#xd32e845">17</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“They talk of past times. But listen—speaking of uncles, what does yours say about
+Paulita?”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani blushed. “He preached me a sermon about the choosing of a wife. I answered
+him that there wasn’t in Manila another like her—beautiful, well-bred, an orphan—”
+</p>
+<p>“Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than a ridiculous aunt,” added
+Basilio, at which both smiled.
+</p>
+<p>“In regard to the aunt, do you know that she has charged me to look for her husband?”
+</p>
+<p>“Doña Victorina? And you’ve promised, in order to keep your sweetheart.”
+</p>
+<p>“Naturally! But the fact is that her husband is actually hidden—in my uncle’s house!”
+</p>
+<p>Both burst into a laugh at this, while Isagani continued: “That’s why my uncle, being
+a conscientious man, won’t go on the upper deck, fearful that Doña Victorina will
+ask him about Don Tiburcio. Just imagine, when Doña Victorina learned that I was a
+steerage passenger she gazed at me with a disdain that—”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment Simoun came down and, catching sight of the two young men, greeted
+Basilio in a patronizing tone: “Hello, Don Basilio, you’re off for the vacation? Is
+the gentleman a townsman of yours?”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman, but that their
+homes were not very far apart. Isagani lived on the seashore of the opposite coast.
+Simoun examined him with such marked attention that he was annoyed, turned squarely
+around, and faced the jeweler with a provoking stare.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, what is the province like?” the latter asked, turning again to Basilio.
+</p>
+<p>“Why, aren’t you familiar with it?”
+</p>
+<p>“How the devil am I to know it when I’ve never set foot in it? I’ve been told that
+it’s very poor and doesn’t buy jewels.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e860">[<a href="#xd32e860">18</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“We don’t buy jewels, because we don’t need them,” rejoined Isagani dryly, piqued
+in his provincial pride.
+</p>
+<p>A smile played over Simoun’s pallid lips. “Don’t be offended, young man,” he replied.
+“I had no bad intentions, but as I’ve been assured that nearly all the money is in
+the hands of the native priests, I said to myself: the friars are dying for curacies
+and the Franciscans are satisfied with the poorest, so when they give them up to the
+native priests the truth must be that the king’s profile is unknown there. But enough
+of that! Come and have a beer with me and we’ll drink to the prosperity of your province.”
+</p>
+<p>The youths thanked him, but declined the offer.
+</p>
+<p>“You do wrong,” Simoun said to them, visibly taken aback. “Beer is a good thing, and
+I heard Padre Camorra say this morning that the lack of energy noticeable in this
+country is due to the great amount of water the inhabitants drink.”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani was almost as tall as the jeweler, and at this he drew himself up.
+</p>
+<p>“Then tell Padre Camorra,” Basilio hastened to say, while he nudged Isagani slyly,
+“tell him that if he would drink water instead of wine or beer, perhaps we might all
+be the gainers and he would not give rise to so much talk.”
+</p>
+<p>“And tell him, also,” added Isagani, paying no attention to his friend’s nudges, “that
+water is very mild and can be drunk, but that it drowns out the wine and beer and
+puts out the fire, that heated it becomes steam, and that ruffled it is the ocean,
+that it once destroyed mankind and made the earth tremble to its foundations!”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e870src" href="#xd32e870">3</a>
+</p>
+<p>Simoun raised his head. Although his looks could not be read through the blue goggles,
+on the rest of his face surprise might be seen. “Rather a good answer,” he said. “But
+I fear that he might get facetious and ask me when the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e875">[<a href="#xd32e875">19</a>]</span>water will be converted into steam and when into an ocean. Padre Camorra is rather
+incredulous and is a great wag.”
+</p>
+<p>“When the fire heats it, when the rivulets that are now scattered through the steep
+valleys, forced by fatality, rush together in the abyss that men are digging,” replied
+Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“No, Señor Simoun,” interposed Basilio, changing to a jesting tone, “rather keep in
+mind the verses of my friend Isagani himself:
+</p>
+<div class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">‘Fire you, you say, and water we,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Then as you wish, so let it be;
+</p>
+<p class="line">But let us live in peace and right,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Nor shall the fire e’er see us fight;
+</p>
+<p class="line">So joined by wisdom’s glowing flame,
+</p>
+<p class="line">That without anger, hate, or blame,
+</p>
+<p class="line">We form the steam, the fifth element,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Progress and light, life and movement.’ ”</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">“Utopia, Utopia!” responded Simoun dryly. “The engine is about to meet—in the meantime,
+I’ll drink my beer.” So, without any word of excuse, he left the two friends.
+</p>
+<p>“But what’s the matter with you today that you’re so quarrelsome?” asked Basilio.
+</p>
+<p>“Nothing. I don’t know why, but that man fills me with horror, fear almost.”
+</p>
+<p>“I was nudging you with my elbow. Don’t you know that he’s called the Brown Cardinal?”
+</p>
+<p>“The Brown Cardinal?”
+</p>
+<p>“Or Black Eminence, as you wish.”
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t understand.”
+</p>
+<p>“Richelieu had a Capuchin adviser who was called the Gray Eminence; well, that’s what
+this man is to the General.”
+</p>
+<p>“Really?”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s what I’ve heard from <i>a certain person,</i>—who always speaks ill of him behind his back and flatters him to his face.”
+</p>
+<p>“Does he also visit Capitan Tiago?”
+</p>
+<p>“From the first day after his arrival, and I’m sure that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e906">[<a href="#xd32e906">20</a>]</span><i>a certain person</i> looks upon him as a rival—in the inheritance. I believe that he’s going to see the
+General about the question of instruction in Castilian.”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment Isagani was called away by a servant to his uncle.
+</p>
+<p>On one of the benches at the stern, huddled in among the other passengers, sat a native
+priest gazing at the landscapes that were successively unfolded to his view. His neighbors
+made room for him, the men on passing taking off their hats, and the gamblers not
+daring to set their table near where he was. He said little, but neither smoked nor
+assumed arrogant airs, nor did he disdain to mingle with the other men, returning
+the salutes with courtesy and affability as if he felt much honored and very grateful.
+Although advanced in years, with hair almost completely gray, he appeared to be in
+vigorous health, and even when seated held his body straight and his head erect, but
+without pride or arrogance. He differed from the ordinary native priests, few enough
+indeed, who at that period served merely as coadjutors or administered some curacies
+temporarily, in a certain self-possession and gravity, like one who was conscious
+of his personal dignity and the sacredness of his office. A superficial examination
+of his appearance, if not his white hair, revealed at once that he belonged to another
+epoch, another generation, when the better young men were not afraid to risk their
+dignity by becoming priests, when the native clergy looked any friar at all in the
+face, and when their class, not yet degraded and vilified, called for free men and
+not slaves, superior intelligences and not servile wills. In his sad and serious features
+was to be read the serenity of a soul fortified by study and meditation, perhaps tried
+out by deep moral suffering. This priest was Padre Florentino, Isagani’s uncle, and
+his story is easily told.
+</p>
+<p>Scion of a wealthy and influential family of Manila, of agreeable appearance and cheerful
+disposition, suited to shine in the world, he had never felt any call to the sacerdotal
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e913">[<a href="#xd32e913">21</a>]</span>profession, but by reason of some promises or vows, his mother, after not a few struggles
+and violent disputes, compelled him to enter the seminary. She was a great friend
+of the Archbishop, had a will of iron, and was as inexorable as is every devout woman
+who believes that she is interpreting the will of God. Vainly the young Florentine
+offered resistance, vainly he begged, vainly he pleaded his love affairs, even provoking
+scandals: priest he had to become at twenty-five years of age, and priest he became.
+The Archbishop ordained him, his first mass was celebrated with great pomp, three
+days were given over to feasting, and his mother died happy and content, leaving him
+all her fortune.
+</p>
+<p>But in that struggle Florentine received a wound from which he never recovered. Weeks
+before his first mass the woman he loved, in desperation, married a nobody—a blow
+the rudest he had ever experienced. He lost his moral energy, life became dull and
+insupportable. If not his virtue and the respect for his office, that unfortunate
+love affair saved him from the depths into which the regular orders and secular clergymen
+both fall in the Philippines. He devoted himself to his parishioners as a duty, and
+by inclination to the natural sciences.
+</p>
+<p>When the events of seventy-two occurred,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e918src" href="#xd32e918">4</a> he feared that the large income his curacy yielded him would attract attention to
+him, so, desiring peace above everything, he sought and secured his release, living
+thereafter as a private individual on his patrimonial estate situated on the Pacific
+coast. He there adopted his nephew, Isagani, who was reported by the malicious to
+be his own son by his old sweetheart when she became a widow, and by the more serious
+and better informed, the natural child of a cousin, a lady in Manila.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e921">[<a href="#xd32e921">22</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The captain of the steamer caught sight of the old priest and insisted that he go
+to the upper deck, saying, “If you don’t do so, the friars will think that you don’t
+want to associate with them.”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentino had no recourse but to accept, so he summoned his nephew in order
+to let him know where he was going, and to charge him not to come near the upper deck
+while he was there. “If the captain notices you, he’ll invite you also, and we should
+then be abusing his kindness.”
+</p>
+<p>“My uncle’s way!” thought Isagani. “All so that I won’t have any reason for talking
+with Doña Victorina.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e926">[<a href="#xd32e926">23</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e801">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e801src">1</a></span> The Jesuit College in Manila, established in 1859.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e801src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e826">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e826src">2</a></span> Natives of Spain; to distinguish them from the Filipinos, <i>i.e.,</i> descendants of Spaniards born in the Philippines. See Glossary: “<a href="#glindian">Indian</a>.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e826src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e870">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e870src">3</a></span> It was a common saying among the old Filipinos that the Spaniards (white men) were
+fire (activity), while they themselves were water (passivity).—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e870src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e918">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e918src">4</a></span> The “liberal” demonstrations in Manila, and the mutiny in the Cavite Arsenal, resulting
+in the garroting of the three native priests to whom this work was dedicated: the
+first of a series of fatal mistakes, culminating in the execution of the author, that
+cost Spain the loyalty of the Filipinos.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e918src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch03" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e232">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter III</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Legends</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="de">
+<p class="first">Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten
+<br>Dass ich so traurig bin!</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>When Padre Florentino joined the group above, the bad humor provoked by the previous
+discussion had entirely disappeared. Perhaps their spirits had been raised by the
+attractive houses of the town of Pasig, or the glasses of sherry they had drunk in
+preparation for the coming meal, or the prospect of a good breakfast. Whatever the
+cause, the fact was that they were all laughing and joking, even including the lean
+Franciscan, although he made little noise and his smiles looked like death-grins.
+</p>
+<p>“Evil times, evil times!” said Padre Sibyla with a laugh.
+</p>
+<p>“Get out, don’t say that, Vice-Rector!” responded the Canon Irene, giving the other’s
+chair a shove. “In Hongkong you’re doing a fine business, putting up every building
+that—ha, ha!”
+</p>
+<p>“Tut, tut!” was the reply; “you don’t see our expenses, and the tenants on our estates
+are beginning to complain—”
+</p>
+<p>“Here, enough of complaints, <i>puñales,</i> else I’ll fall to weeping!” cried Padre Camorra gleefully. “We’re not complaining,
+and we haven’t either estates or banking-houses. You know that my Indians are beginning
+to haggle over the fees and to flash schedules on me! Just look how they cite schedules
+to me now, and none other than those of the Archbishop Basilio Sancho,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e946src" href="#xd32e946">1</a> as if from his time <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e949">[<a href="#xd32e949">24</a>]</span>up to now prices had not risen. Ha, ha, ha! Why should a baptism cost less than a
+chicken? But I play the deaf man, collect what I can, and never complain. We’re not
+avaricious, are we, Padre Salvi?”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment Simoun’s head appeared above the hatchway.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, where’ve you been keeping yourself?” Don Custodio called to him, having forgotten
+all about their dispute. “You’re missing the prettiest part of the trip!”
+</p>
+<p>“Pshaw!” retorted Simoun, as he ascended, “I’ve seen so many rivers and landscapes
+that I’m only interested in those that call up legends.”
+</p>
+<p>“As for legends, the Pasig has a few,” observed the captain, who did not relish any
+depreciation of the river where he navigated and earned his livelihood. “Here you
+have that of <i>Malapad-na-bato,</i> a rock sacred before the coming of the Spaniards as the abode of spirits. Afterwards,
+when the superstition had been dissipated and the rock profaned, it was converted
+into a nest of tulisanes, since from its crest they easily captured the luckless bankas,
+which had to contend against both the currents and men. Later, in our time, in spite
+of human interference, there are still told stories about wrecked bankas, and if on
+rounding it I didn’t steer with my six senses, I’d be smashed against its sides. Then
+you have another legend, that of Doña Jeronima’s cave, which Padre Florentino can
+relate to you.”
+</p>
+<p>“Everybody knows that,” remarked Padre Sibyla disdainfully.
+</p>
+<p>But neither Simoun, nor Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Camorra knew it, so they
+begged for the story, some in jest and others from genuine curiosity. The priest,
+adopting the tone of burlesque with which some had made their request, began like
+an old tutor relating a story to children.
+</p>
+<p>“Once upon a time there was a student who had made a promise of marriage to a young
+woman in his country, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e963">[<a href="#xd32e963">25</a>]</span>but it seems that he failed to remember her. She waited for him faithfully year after
+year, her youth passed, she grew into middle age, and then one day she heard a report
+that her old sweetheart was the Archbishop of Manila. Disguising herself as a man,
+she came round the Cape and presented herself before his grace, demanding the fulfilment
+of his promise. What she asked was of course impossible, so the Archbishop ordered
+the preparation of the cave that you may have noticed with its entrance covered and
+decorated with a curtain of vines. There she lived and died and there she is buried.
+The legend states that Doña Jeronima was so fat that she had to turn sidewise to get
+into it. Her fame as an enchantress sprung from her custom of throwing into the river
+the silver dishes which she used in the sumptuous banquets that were attended by crowds
+of gentlemen. A net was spread under the water to hold the dishes and thus they were
+cleaned. It hasn’t been twenty years since the river washed the very entrance of the
+cave, but it has gradually been receding, just as the memory of her is dying out among
+the people.”
+</p>
+<p>“A beautiful legend!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “I’m going to write an article about it.
+It’s sentimental!”
+</p>
+<p>Doña Victorina thought of dwelling in such a cave and was about to say so, when Simoun
+took the floor instead.
+</p>
+<p>“But what’s your opinion about that, Padre Salvi?” he asked the Franciscan, who seemed
+to be absorbed in thought. “Doesn’t it seem to you as though his Grace, instead of
+giving her a cave, ought to have placed her in a nunnery—in St. Clara’s, for example?
+What do you say?”
+</p>
+<p>There was a start of surprise on Padre Sibyla’s part to notice that Padre Salvi shuddered
+and looked askance at Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“Because it’s not a very gallant act,” continued Simoun quite naturally, “to give
+a rocky cliff as a home to one with whose hopes we have trifled. It’s hardly religious
+to expose her thus to temptation, in a cave on the banks of a river—it smacks of nymphs
+and dryads. It would <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e971">[<a href="#xd32e971">26</a>]</span>have been more gallant, more pious, more romantic, more in keeping with the customs
+of this country, to shut her up in St. Clara’s, like a new Eloise, in order to visit
+and console her from time to time.”
+</p>
+<p>“I neither can nor should pass judgment upon the conduct of archbishops,” replied
+the Franciscan sourly.
+</p>
+<p>“But you, who are the ecclesiastical governor, acting in the place of our Archbishop,
+what would you do if such a case should arise?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Salvi shrugged his shoulders and calmly responded, “It’s not worth while thinking
+about what can’t happen. But speaking of legends, don’t overlook the most beautiful,
+since it is the truest: that of the miracle of St. Nicholas, the ruins of whose church
+you may have noticed. I’m going to relate it to Señor Simoun, as he probably hasn’t
+heard it. It seems that formerly the river, as well as the lake, was infested with
+caymans, so huge and voracious that they attacked bankas and upset them with a slap
+of the tail. Our chronicles relate that one day an infidel Chinaman, who up to that
+time had refused to be converted, was passing in front of the church, when suddenly
+the devil presented himself to him in the form of a cayman and upset the banka, in
+order to devour him and carry him off to hell. Inspired by God, the Chinaman at that
+moment called upon St. Nicholas and instantly the cayman was changed into a stone.
+The old people say that in their time the monster could easily be recognized in the
+pieces of stone that were left, and, for my part, I can assure you that I have clearly
+made out the head, to judge from which the monster must have been enormously large.”
+</p>
+<p>“Marvelous, a marvelous legend!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “It’s good for an article—the
+description of the monster, the terror of the Chinaman, the waters of the river, the
+bamboo brakes. Also, it’ll do for a study of comparative religions; because, look
+you, an infidel Chinaman in great distress invoked exactly the saint that he must
+know only by hearsay and in whom he did not believe. Here there’s <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e979">[<a href="#xd32e979">27</a>]</span>no room for the proverb that ‘a known evil is preferable to an unknown good.’ If I
+should find myself in China and get caught in such a difficulty, I would invoke the
+obscurest saint in the calendar before Confucius or Buddha. Whether this is due to
+the manifest superiority of Catholicism or to the inconsequential and illogical inconsistency
+in the brains of the yellow race, a profound study of anthropology alone will be able
+to elucidate.”
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb had adopted the tone of a lecturer and was describing circles in the air
+with his forefinger, priding himself on his imagination, which from the most insignificant
+facts could deduce so many applications and inferences. But noticing that Simoun was
+preoccupied and thinking that he was pondering over what he, Ben-Zayb, had just said,
+he inquired what the jeweler was meditating about.
+</p>
+<p>“About two very important questions,” answered Simoun; “two questions that you might
+add to your article. First, what may have become of the devil on seeing himself suddenly
+confined within a stone? Did he escape? Did he stay there? Was he crushed? Second,
+if the petrified animals that I have seen in various European museums may not have
+been the victims of some antediluvian saint?”
+</p>
+<p>The tone in which the jeweler spoke was so serious, while he rested his forehead on
+the tip of his forefinger in an attitude of deep meditation, that Padre Camorra responded
+very gravely, “Who knows, who knows?”
+</p>
+<p>“Since we’re busy with legends and are now entering the lake,” remarked Padre Sibyla,
+“the captain must know many—”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment the steamer crossed the bar and the panorama spread out before their
+eyes was so truly magnificent that all were impressed. In front extended the beautiful
+lake bordered by green shores and blue mountains, like a huge mirror, framed in emeralds
+and sapphires, reflecting the sky in its glass. On the right were spread out the low
+shores, forming bays with graceful curves, and dim there in the distance the crags
+of Sungay, while in the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e987">[<a href="#xd32e987">28</a>]</span>background rose Makiling, imposing and majestic, crowned with fleecy clouds. On the
+left lay Talim Island with its curious sweep of hills. A fresh breeze rippled over
+the wide plain of water.
+</p>
+<p>“By the way, captain,” said Ben-Zayb, turning around, “do you know in what part of
+the lake a certain Guevara, Navarra, or Ibarra, was killed?”
+</p>
+<p>The group looked toward the captain, with the exception of Simoun, who had turned
+away his head as though to look for something on the shore.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, yes!” exclaimed Doña Victorina. “Where, captain? Did he leave any tracks in the
+water?”
+</p>
+<p>The good captain winked several times, an indication that he was annoyed, but reading
+the request in the eyes of all, took a few steps toward the bow and scanned the shore.
+</p>
+<p>“Look over there,” he said in a scarcely audible voice, after making sure that no
+strangers were near. “According to the officer who conducted the pursuit, Ibarra,
+upon finding himself surrounded, jumped out of his banka there near the Kinabutasan<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e996src" href="#xd32e996">2</a> and, swimming under water, covered all that distance of more than two miles, saluted
+by bullets every time that he raised his head to breathe. Over yonder is where they
+lost track of him, and a little farther on near the shore they discovered something
+like the color of blood. And now I think of it, it’s just thirteen years, day for
+day, since this happened.”
+</p>
+<p>“So that his corpse—” began Ben-Zayb.
+</p>
+<p>“Went to join his father’s,” replied Padre Sibyla. “Wasn’t he also another filibuster,
+Padre Salvi?”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s what might be called cheap funerals, Padre Camorra, eh?” remarked Ben-Zayb.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1005">[<a href="#xd32e1005">29</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“I’ve always said that those who won’t pay for expensive funerals are filibusters,”
+rejoined the person addressed, with a merry laugh.
+</p>
+<p>“But what’s the matter with you, Señor Simoun?” inquired Ben-Zayb, seeing that the
+jeweler was motionless and thoughtful. “Are you seasick—an old traveler like you?
+On such a drop of water as this!”
+</p>
+<p>“I want to tell you,” broke in the captain, who had come to hold all those places
+in great affection, “that you can’t call this a drop of water. It’s larger than any
+lake in Switzerland and all those in Spain put together. I’ve seen old sailors who
+got seasick here.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1010">[<a href="#xd32e1010">30</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e946">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e946src">1</a></span> Archbishop of Manila from 1767 to 1787.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e946src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e996">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e996src">2</a></span> “Between this island (Talim) and Halahala point extends a strait a mile wide and a
+league long, which the Indians call ‘Kinabutasan,’ a name that in their language means
+‘place that was cleft open’; from which it is inferred that in other times the island
+was joined to the mainland and was separated from it by some severe earthquake, thus
+leaving this strait: of this there is an old tradition among the Indians.”—Fray Martinez
+de Zuñiga’s <i>Estadismo</i> (1803).&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e996src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch04" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e242">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter IV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Cabesang Tales</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Those who have read the first part of this story will perhaps remember an old wood-cutter
+who lived in the depths of the forest.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1017src" href="#xd32e1017">1</a> Tandang Selo is still alive, and though his hair has turned completely white, he
+yet preserves his good health. He no longer hunts or cuts firewood, for his fortunes
+have improved and he works only at making brooms.
+</p>
+<p>His son Tales (abbreviation of Telesforo) had worked at first on shares on the lands
+of a capitalist, but later, having become the owner of two carabaos and several hundred
+pesos, determined to work on his own account, aided by his father, his wife, and his
+three children. So they cut down and cleared away some thick woods which were situated
+on the borders of the town and which they believed belonged to no one. During the
+labors of cleaning and cultivating the new land, the whole family fell ill with malaria
+and the mother died, along with the eldest daughter, Lucia, in the flower of her age.
+This, which was the natural consequence of breaking up new soil infested with various
+kinds of bacteria, they attributed to the anger of the woodland spirit, so they were
+resigned and went on with their labor, believing him pacified.
+</p>
+<p>But when they began to harvest their first crop a religious corporation, which owned
+land in the neighboring town, laid claim to the fields, alleging that they fell within
+their boundaries, and to prove it they at once started to set up <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1027">[<a href="#xd32e1027">31</a>]</span>their marks. However, the administrator of the religious order left to them, for humanity’s
+sake, the usufruct of the land on condition that they pay a small sum annually—a mere
+bagatelle, twenty or thirty pesos. Tales, as peaceful a man as could be found, was
+as much opposed to lawsuits as any one and more submissive to the friars than most
+people; so, in order not to smash a <i>palyok</i> against a <i>kawali</i> (as he said, for to him the friars were iron pots and he a clay jar), he had the
+weakness to yield to their claim, remembering that he did not know Spanish and had
+no money to pay lawyers.
+</p>
+<p>Besides, Tandang Selo said to him, “Patience! You would spend more in one year of
+litigation than in ten years of paying what the white padres demand. And perhaps they’ll
+pay you back in masses! Pretend that those thirty pesos had been lost in gambling
+or had fallen into the water and been swallowed by a cayman.”
+</p>
+<p>The harvest was abundant and sold well, so Tales planned to build a wooden house in
+the barrio of Sagpang, of the town of Tiani, which adjoined San Diego.
+</p>
+<p>Another year passed, bringing another good crop, and for this reason the friars raised
+the rent to fifty pesos, which Tales paid in order not to quarrel and because he expected
+to sell his sugar at a good price.
+</p>
+<p>“Patience! Pretend that the cayman has grown some,” old Selo consoled him.
+</p>
+<p>That year he at last saw his dream realized: to live in the barrio of Sagpang in a
+wooden house. The father and grandfather then thought of providing some education
+for the two children, especially the daughter Juliana, or Juli, as they called her,
+for she gave promise of being accomplished and beautiful. A boy who was a friend of
+the family, Basilio, was studying in Manila, and he was of as lowly origin as they.
+</p>
+<p>But this dream seemed destined not to be realized. The first care the community took
+when they saw the family prospering was to appoint as cabeza de barangay its most
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1040">[<a href="#xd32e1040">32</a>]</span>industrious member, which left only Tano, the son, who was only fourteen years old.
+The father was therefore called <i>Cabesang</i> Tales and had to order a sack coat, buy a felt hat, and prepare to spend his money.
+In order to avoid any quarrel with the curate or the government, he settled from his
+own pocket the shortages in the tax-lists, paying for those who had died or moved
+away, and he lost considerable time in making the collections and on his trips to
+the capital.
+</p>
+<p>“Patience! Pretend that the cayman’s relatives have joined him,” advised Tandang Selo,
+smiling placidly.
+</p>
+<p>“Next year you’ll put on a long skirt and go to Manila to study like the young ladies
+of the town,” Cabesang Tales told his daughter every time he heard her talking of
+Basilio’s progress.
+</p>
+<p>But that next year did not come, and in its stead there was another increase in the
+rent. Cabesang Tales became serious and scratched his head. The clay jar was giving
+up all its rice to the iron pot.
+</p>
+<p>When the rent had risen to two hundred pesos, Tales was not content with scratching
+his head and sighing; he murmured and protested. The friar-administrator then told
+him that if he could not pay, some one else would be assigned to cultivate that land—many
+who desired it had offered themselves.
+</p>
+<p>He thought at first that the friar was joking, but the friar was talking seriously,
+and indicated a servant of his to take possession of the land. Poor Tales turned pale,
+he felt a buzzing in his ears, he saw in the red mist that rose before his eyes his
+wife and daughter, pallid, emaciated, dying, victims of the intermittent fevers—then
+he saw the thick forest converted into productive fields, he saw the stream of sweat
+watering its furrows, he saw himself plowing under the hot sun, bruising his feet
+against the stones and roots, while this friar had been driving about in his carriage
+with the wretch who was to get the land following like a slave behind his master.
+No, a thousand <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1051">[<a href="#xd32e1051">33</a>]</span>times, no! First let the fields sink into the depths of the earth and bury them all!
+Who was this intruder that he should have any right to his land? Had he brought from
+his own country a single handful of that soil? Had he crooked a single one of his
+fingers to pull up the roots that ran through it?
+</p>
+<p>Exasperated by the threats of the friar, who tried to uphold his authority at any
+cost in the presence of the other tenants, Cabesang Tales rebelled and refused to
+pay a single cuarto, having ever before himself that red mist, saying that he would
+give up his fields to the first man who could irrigate it with blood drawn from his
+own veins.
+</p>
+<p>Old Selo, on looking at his son’s face, did not dare to mention the cayman, but tried
+to calm him by talking of clay jars, reminding him that the winner in a lawsuit was
+left without a shirt to his back.
+</p>
+<p>“We shall all be turned to clay, father, and without shirts we were born,” was the
+reply.
+</p>
+<p>So he resolutely refused to pay or to give up a single span of his land unless the
+friars should first prove the legality of their claim by exhibiting a title-deed of
+some kind. As they had none, a lawsuit followed, and Cabesang Tales entered into it,
+confiding that some at least, if not all, were lovers of justice and respecters of
+the law.
+</p>
+<p>“I serve and have been serving the King with my money and my services,” he said to
+those who remonstrated with him. “I’m asking for justice and he is obliged to give
+it to me.”
+</p>
+<p>Drawn on by fatality, and as if he had put into play in the lawsuit the whole future
+of himself and his children, he went on spending his savings to pay lawyers, notaries,
+and solicitors, not to mention the officials and clerks who exploited his ignorance
+and his needs. He moved to and fro between the village and the capital, passed his
+days without eating and his nights without sleeping, while his talk was always about
+briefs, exhibits, and appeals. There was then seen a struggle such as was never before
+carried on under the skies of the Philippines: that of a poor Indian, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1060">[<a href="#xd32e1060">34</a>]</span>ignorant and friendless, confiding in the justness and righteousness of his cause,
+fighting against a powerful corporation before which Justice bowed her head, while
+the judges let fall the scales and surrendered the sword. He fought as tenaciously
+as the ant which bites when it knows that it is going to be crushed, as does the fly
+which looks into space only through a pane of glass. Yet the clay jar defying the
+iron pot and smashing itself into a thousand pieces bad in it something impressive—it
+had the sublimeness of desperation!
+</p>
+<p>On the days when his journeys left him free he patrolled his fields armed with a shotgun,
+saying that the tulisanes were hovering around and he had need of defending himself
+in order not to fall into their hands and thus lose his lawsuit. As if to improve
+his marksmanship, he shot at birds and fruits, even the butterflies, with such accurate
+aim that the friar-administrator did not dare to go to Sagpang without an escort of
+civil-guards, while the friar’s hireling, who gazed from afar at the threatening figure
+of Tales wandering over the fields like a sentinel upon the walls, was terror stricken
+and refused to take the property away from him.
+</p>
+<p>But the local judges and those at the capital, warned by the experience of one of
+their number who had been summarily dismissed, dared not give him the decision, fearing
+their own dismissal. Yet they were not really bad men, those judges, they were upright
+and conscientious, good citizens, excellent fathers, dutiful sons—and they were able
+to appreciate poor Tales’ situation better than Tales himself could. Many of them
+were versed in the scientific and historical basis of property, they knew that the
+friars by their own statutes could not own property, but they also knew that to come
+from far across the sea with an appointment secured with great difficulty, to undertake
+the duties of the position with the best intentions, and now to lose it because an
+Indian fancied that justice had to be done on earth as in heaven—that surely was an
+idea! They had their <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1066">[<a href="#xd32e1066">35</a>]</span>families and greater needs surely than that Indian: one had a mother to provide for,
+and what duty is more sacred than that of caring for a mother? Another had sisters,
+all of marriageable age; that other there had many little children who expected their
+daily bread and who, like fledglings in a nest, would surely die of hunger the day
+he was out of a job; even the very least of them had there, far away, a wife who would
+be in distress if the monthly remittance failed. All these moral and conscientious
+judges tried everything in their power in the way of counsel, advising Cabesang Tales
+to pay the rent demanded. But Tales, like all simple souls, once he had seen what
+was just, went straight toward it. He demanded proofs, documents, papers, title-deeds,
+but the friars had none of these, resting their case on his concessions in the past.
+</p>
+<p>Cabesang Tales’ constant reply was: “If every day I give alms to a beggar to escape
+annoyance, who will oblige me to continue my gifts if he abuses my generosity?”
+</p>
+<p>From this stand no one could draw him, nor were there any threats that could intimidate
+him. In vain Governor M—— made a trip expressly to talk to him and frighten him. His
+reply to it all was: “You may do what you like, Mr. Governor, I’m ignorant and powerless.
+But I’ve cultivated those fields, my wife and daughter died while helping me clear
+them, and I won’t give them up to any one but him who can do more with them than I’ve
+done. Let him first irrigate them with his blood and bury in them his wife and daughter!”
+</p>
+<p>The upshot of this obstinacy was that the honorable judges gave the decision to the
+friars, and everybody laughed at him, saying that lawsuits are not won by justice.
+But Cabesang Tales appealed, loaded his shotgun, and patrolled his fields with deliberation.
+</p>
+<p>During this period his life seemed to be a wild dream. His son, Tano, a youth as tall
+as his father and as good as his sister, was conscripted, but he let the boy go rather
+than purchase a substitute.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1073">[<a href="#xd32e1073">36</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“I have to pay the lawyers,” he told his weeping daughter. “If I win the case I’ll
+find a way to get him back, and if I lose it I won’t have any need for sons.”
+</p>
+<p>So the son went away and nothing more was heard of him except that his hair had been
+cropped and that he slept under a cart. Six months later it was rumored that he had
+been seen embarking for the Carolines; another report was that he had been seen in
+the uniform of the Civil Guard.
+</p>
+<p>“Tano in the Civil Guard! <i>’Susmariosep</i>!” exclaimed several, clasping their hands. “Tano, who was so good and so honest!
+<i lang="la">Requimternam!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>The grandfather went many days without speaking to the father, Juli fell sick, but
+Cabesang Tales did not shed a single tear, although for two days he never left the
+house, as if he feared the looks of reproach from the whole village or that he would
+be called the executioner of his son. But on the third day he again sallied forth
+with his shotgun.
+</p>
+<p>Murderous intentions were attributed to him, and there were well-meaning persons who
+whispered about that he had been heard to threaten that he would bury the friar-administrator
+in the furrows of his fields, whereat the friar was frightened at him in earnest.
+As a result of this, there came a decree from the Captain-General forbidding the use
+of firearms and ordering that they be taken up. Cabesang Tales had to hand over his
+shotgun but he continued his rounds armed with a long bolo.
+</p>
+<p>“What are you going to do with that bolo when the tulisanes have firearms?” old Selo
+asked him.
+</p>
+<p>“I must watch my crops,” was the answer. “Every stalk of cane growing there is one
+of my wife’s bones.”
+</p>
+<p>The bolo was taken up on the pretext that it was too long. He then took his father’s
+old ax and with it on his shoulder continued his sullen rounds.
+</p>
+<p>Every time he left the house Tandang Selo and Juli trembled for his life. The latter
+would get up from her loom, go to the window, pray, make vows to the saints, and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1091">[<a href="#xd32e1091">37</a>]</span>recite novenas. The grandfather was at times unable to finish the handle of a broom
+and talked of returning to the forest—life in that house was unbearable.
+</p>
+<p>At last their fears were realized. As the fields were some distance from the village,
+Cabesang Tales, in spite of his ax, fell into the hands of tulisanes who had revolvers
+and rifles. They told him that since he had money to pay judges and lawyers he must
+have some also for the outcasts and the hunted. They therefore demanded a ransom of
+five hundred pesos through the medium of a rustic, with the warning that if anything
+happened to their messenger, the captive would pay for it with his life. Two days
+of grace were allowed.
+</p>
+<p>This news threw the poor family into the wildest terror, which was augmented when
+they learned that the Civil Guard was going out in pursuit of the bandits. In case
+of an encounter, the first victim would be the captive—this they all knew. The old
+man was paralyzed, while the pale and frightened daughter tried often to talk but
+could not. Still, another thought more terrible, an idea more cruel, roused them from
+their stupor. The rustic sent by the tulisanes said that the band would probably have
+to move on, and if they were slow in sending the ransom the two days would elapse
+and Cabesang Tales would have his throat cut.
+</p>
+<p>This drove those two beings to madness, weak and powerless as they were. Tandang Selo
+got up, sat down, went outside, came back again, knowing not where to go, where to
+seek aid. Juli appealed to her images, counted and recounted her money, but her two
+hundred pesos did not increase or multiply. Soon she dressed herself, gathered together
+all her jewels, and asked the advice of her grandfather, if she should go to see the
+gobernadorcillo, the judge, the notary, the lieutenant of the Civil Guard. The old
+man said yes to everything, or when she said no, he too said no. At length came the
+neighbors, their relatives and friends, some poorer than others, in their simplicity
+magnifying <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1097">[<a href="#xd32e1097">38</a>]</span>the fears. The most active of all was Sister Bali, a great <i>panguinguera,</i> who had been to Manila to practise religious exercises in the nunnery of the Sodality.
+</p>
+<p>Juli was willing to sell all her jewels, except a locket set with diamonds and emeralds
+which Basilio had given her, for this locket had a history: a nun, the daughter of
+Capitan Tiago, had given it to a leper, who, in return for professional treatment,
+had made a present of it to Basilio. So she could not sell it without first consulting
+him.
+</p>
+<p>Quickly the shell-combs and earrings were sold, as well as Juli’s rosary, to their
+richest neighbor, and thus fifty pesos were added, but two hundred and fifty were
+still lacking. The locket might be pawned, but Juli shook her head. A neighbor suggested
+that the house be sold and Tandang Selo approved the idea, satisfied to return to
+the forest and cut firewood as of old, but Sister Bali observed that this could not
+be done because the owner was not present.
+</p>
+<p>“The judge’s wife once sold me her <i>tapis</i> for a peso, but her husband said that the sale did not hold because it hadn’t received
+his approval. <i>Abá!</i> He took back the <i>tapis</i> and she hasn’t returned the peso yet, but I don’t pay her when she wins at <i>panguingui, abá!</i> In that way I’ve collected twelve cuartos, and for that alone I’m going to play with
+her. I can’t bear to have people fail to pay what they owe me, <i>abá!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>Another neighbor was going to ask Sister Bali why then did not she settle a little
+account with her, but the quick <i>panguinguera</i> suspected this and added at once: “Do you know, Juli, what you can do? Borrow two
+hundred and fifty pesos on the house, payable when the lawsuit is won.”
+</p>
+<p>This seemed to be the best proposition, so they decided to act upon it that same day.
+Sister Bali offered to accompany her, and together they visited the houses of all
+the rich folks in Tiani, but no one would accept the proposal. The case, they said,
+was already lost, and to show favors to an enemy of the friars was to expose themselves
+to their <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1122">[<a href="#xd32e1122">39</a>]</span>vengeance. At last a pious woman took pity on the girl and lent the money on condition
+that Juli should remain with her as a servant until the debt was paid. Juli would
+not have so very much to do: sew, pray, accompany her to mass, and fast for her now
+and then. The girl accepted with tears in her eyes, received the money, and promised
+to enter her service on the following day, Christmas.
+</p>
+<p>When the grandfather heard of that sale he fell to weeping like a child. What, that
+granddaughter whom he had not allowed to walk in the sun lest her skin should be burned,
+Juli, she of the delicate fingers and rosy feet! What, that girl, the prettiest in
+the village and perhaps in the whole town, before whose window many gallants had vainly
+passed the night playing and singing! What, his only granddaughter, the sole joy of
+his fading eyes, she whom he had dreamed of seeing dressed in a long skirt, talking
+Spanish, and holding herself erect waving a painted fan like the daughters of the
+wealthy—she to become a servant, to be scolded and reprimanded, to ruin her fingers,
+to sleep anywhere, to rise in any manner whatsoever!
+</p>
+<p>So the old grandfather wept and talked of hanging or starving himself to death. “If
+you go,” he declared, “I’m going back to the forest and will never set foot in the
+town.”
+</p>
+<p>Juli soothed him by saying that it was necessary for her father to return, that the
+suit would be won, and they could then ransom her from her servitude.
+</p>
+<p>The night was a sad one. Neither of the two could taste a bite and the old man refused
+to lie down, passing the whole night seated in a corner, silent and motionless. Juli
+on her part tried to sleep, but for a long time could not close her eyes. Somewhat
+relieved about her father’s fate, she now thought of herself and fell to weeping,
+but stifled her sobs so that the old man might not hear them. The next day she would
+be a servant, and it was the very day Basilio was accustomed to come from Manila with
+presents for her. Henceforward she would have to give up that love; Basilio, who was
+going to be a doctor, couldn’t marry a <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1129">[<a href="#xd32e1129">40</a>]</span>pauper. In fancy she saw him going to the church in company with the prettiest and
+richest girl in the town, both well-dressed, happy and smiling, while she, Juli, followed
+her mistress, carrying novenas, buyos, and the cuspidor. Here the girl felt a lump
+rise in her throat, a sinking at her heart, and begged the Virgin to let her die first.
+</p>
+<p>But—said her conscience—he will at least know that I preferred to pawn myself rather
+than the locket he gave me.
+</p>
+<p>This thought consoled her a little and brought on empty dreams. Who knows but that
+a miracle might happen? She might find the two hundred and fifty pesos under the image
+of the Virgin—she had read of many similar miracles. The sun might not rise nor morning
+come, and meanwhile the suit would be won. Her father might return, or Basilio put
+in his appearance, she might find a bag of gold in the garden, the tulisanes would
+send the bag of gold, the curate, Padre Camorra, who was always teasing her, would
+come with the tulisanes. So her ideas became more and more confused, until at length,
+worn out by fatigue and sorrow, she went to sleep with dreams of her childhood in
+the depths of the forest: she was bathing in the torrent along with her two brothers,
+there were little fishes of all colors that let themselves be caught like fools, and
+she became impatient because she found no pleasure in catchnig such foolish little
+fishes! Basilio was under the water, but Basilio for some reason had the face of her
+brother Tano. Her new mistress was watching them from the bank.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1134">[<a href="#xd32e1134">41</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1017">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1017src">1</a></span> The reference is to the novel <i>Noli Me Tangere</i> (<i>The Social Cancer</i>), the author’s first work, of which, the present is in a way a continuation.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1017src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch05" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e252">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter V</h2>
+<h2 class="main">A Cochero’s Christmas Eve</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Basilio reached San Diego just as the Christmas Eve procession was passing through
+the streets. He had been delayed on the road for several hours because the cochero,
+having forgotten his cedula, was held up by the Civil Guard, had his memory jogged
+by a few blows from a rifle-butt, and afterwards was taken before the commandant.
+Now the carromata was again detained to let the procession pass, while the abused
+cochero took off his hat reverently and recited a paternoster to the first image that
+came along, which seemed to be that of a great saint. It was the figure of an old
+man with an exceptionally long beard, seated at the edge of a grave under a tree filled
+with all kinds of stuffed birds. A <i>kalan</i> with a clay jar, a mortar, and a <i>kalikut</i> for mashing buyo were his only utensils, as if to indicate that he lived on the border
+of the tomb and was doing his cooking there. This was the Methuselah of the religious
+iconography of the Philippines; his colleague and perhaps contemporary is called in
+Europe Santa Claus, and is still more smiling and agreeable.
+</p>
+<p>“In the time of the saints,” thought the cochero, “surely there were no civil-guards,
+because one can’t live long on blows from rifle-butts.”
+</p>
+<p>Behind the great old man came the three Magian Kings on ponies that were capering
+about, especially that of the negro Melchior, which seemed to be about to trample
+its companions.
+</p>
+<p>“No, there couldn’t have been any civil-guards,” decided the cochero, secretly envying
+those fortunate times, “because if there had been, that negro who is cutting up <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1149">[<a href="#xd32e1149">42</a>]</span>such capers beside those two Spaniards”—Gaspar and <span class="corr" id="xd32e1151" title="Source: Bathazar">Balthazar</span>—“would have gone to jail.”
+</p>
+<p>Then, observing that the negro wore a crown and was a king, like the other two, the
+Spaniards, his thoughts naturally turned to the king of the Indians, and he sighed.
+“Do you know, sir,” he asked Basilio respectfully, “if his right foot is loose yet?”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio had him repeat the question. “Whose right foot?”
+</p>
+<p>“The King’s!” whispered the cochero mysteriously.
+</p>
+<p>“What King’s?”
+</p>
+<p>“Our King’s, the King of the Indians.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio smiled and shrugged his shoulders, while the cochero again sighed. The Indians
+in the country places preserve the legend that their king, imprisoned and chained
+in the cave of San Mateo, will come some day to free them. Every hundredth year he
+breaks one of his chains, so that he now has his hands and his left foot loose—only
+the right foot remains bound. This king causes the earthquakes when he struggles or
+stirs himself, and he is so strong that in shaking hands with him it is necessary
+to extend to him a bone, which he crushes in his grasp. For some unexplainable reason
+the Indians call him King Bernardo, perhaps by confusing him with Bernardo del Carpio.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1162src" href="#xd32e1162">1</a>
+</p>
+<p>“When he gets his right foot loose,” muttered the cochero, stifling another sigh,
+“I’ll give him my horses, and offer him my services even to death, for he’ll free
+us from the Civil Guard.” With a melancholy gaze he watched the Three Kings move on.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1167">[<a href="#xd32e1167">43</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The boys came behind in two files, sad and serious as though they were there under
+compulsion. They lighted their way, some with torches, others with tapers, and others
+with paper lanterns on bamboo poles, while they recited the rosary at the top of their
+voices, as though quarreling with somebody. Afterwards came St. Joseph on a modest
+float, with a look of sadness and resignation on his face, carrying his stalk of lilies,
+as he moved along between two civil-guards as though he were a prisoner. This enabled
+the cochero to understand the expression on the saint’s face, but whether the sight
+of the guards troubled him or he had no great respect for a saint who would travel
+in such company, he did not recite a single requiem.
+</p>
+<p>Behind St. Joseph came the girls bearing lights, their heads covered with handkerchiefs
+knotted under their chins, also reciting the rosary, but with less wrath than the
+boys. In their midst were to be seen several lads dragging along little rabbits made
+of Japanese paper, lighted by red candles, with their short paper tails erect. The
+lads brought those toys into the procession to enliven the birth of the Messiah. The
+little animals, fat and round as eggs, seemed to be so pleased that at times they
+would take a leap, lose their balance, fall, and catch fire. The owner would then
+hasten to extinguish such burning enthusiasm, puffing and blowing until he finally
+beat out the fire, and then, seeing his toy destroyed, would fall to weeping. The
+cochero observed with sadness that the race of little paper animals disappeared each
+year, as if they had been attacked by the pest like the living animals. He, the abused
+Sinong, remembered his two magnificent horses, which, at the advice of the curate,
+he had caused to be blessed to save them from plague, spending therefor ten pesos—for
+neither the government nor the curates have found any better remedy for the epizootic—and
+they had died after all. Yet he consoled himself by remembering also that after the
+shower of holy water, the Latin phrases of the padre, and the ceremonies, the horses
+had become so vain and self-important that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1171">[<a href="#xd32e1171">44</a>]</span>they would not even allow him, Sinong, a good Christian, to put them in harness, and
+he had not dared to whip them, because a tertiary sister had said that they were <i>sanctified</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The procession was closed by the Virgin dressed as the Divine Shepherd, with a pilgrim’s
+hat of wide brim and long plumes to indicate the journey to Jerusalem. That the birth
+might be made more explicable, the curate had ordered her figure to be stuffed with
+rags and cotton under her skirt, so that no one could be in any doubt as to her condition.
+It was a very beautiful image, with the same sad expression of all the images that
+the Filipinos make, and a mien somewhat ashamed, doubtless at the way in which the
+curate had arranged her. In front came several singers and behind, some musicians
+with the usual civil-guards. The curate, as was to be expected after what he had done,
+was not in his place, for that year he was greatly displeased at having to use all
+his diplomacy and shrewdness to convince the townspeople that they should pay thirty
+pesos for each Christmas mass instead of the usual twenty. “You’re turning filibusters!”
+he had said to them.
+</p>
+<p>The cochero must have been greatly preoccupied with the sights of the procession,
+for when it had passed and Basilio ordered him to go on, he did not notice that the
+lamp on his carromata had gone out. Neither did Basilio notice it, his attention being
+devoted to gazing at the houses, which were illuminated inside and out with little
+paper lanterns of fantastic shapes and colors, stars surrounded by hoops with long
+streamers which produced a pleasant murmur when shaken by the wind, and fishes of
+movable heads and tails, having a glass of oil inside, suspended from the eaves of
+the windows in the delightful fashion of a happy and homelike fiesta. But he also
+noticed that the lights were flickering, that the stars were being eclipsed, that
+this year had fewer ornaments and hangings than the former, which in turn had had
+even fewer than the year preceding it. There was scarcely any music in the streets,
+while the agreeable noises of the kitchen were not to be heard in all <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1178">[<a href="#xd32e1178">45</a>]</span>the houses, which the youth ascribed to the fact that for some time things had been
+going badly, the sugar did not bring a good price, the rice crops had failed, over
+half the live stock had died, but the taxes rose and increased for some inexplicable
+reason, while the abuses of the Civil Guard became more frequent to kill off the happiness
+of the people in the towns.
+</p>
+<p>He was just pondering over this when an energetic “Halt!” resounded. They were passing
+in front of the barracks and one of the guards had noticed the extinguished lamp of
+the carromata, which could not go on without it. A hail of insults fell about the
+poor cochero, who vainly excused himself with the length of the procession. He would
+be arrested for violating the ordinances and afterwards advertised in the newspapers,
+so the peaceful and prudent Basilio left the carromata and went his way on foot, carrying
+his valise. This was San Diego, his native town, where he had not a single relative.
+</p>
+<p>The only, house wherein there seemed to be any mirth was Capitan Basilio’s. Hens and
+chickens cackled their death chant to the accompaniment of dry and repeated strokes,
+as of meat pounded on a chopping-block, and the sizzling of grease in the frying-pans.
+A feast was going on in the house, and even into the street there passed a certain
+draught of air, saturated with the succulent odors of stews and confections. In the
+entresol Basilio saw Sinang, as small as when our readers knew her before,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1183src" href="#xd32e1183">2</a> although a little rounder and plumper since her marriage. Then to his great surprise
+he made out, further in at the back of the room, chatting with Capitan Basilio, the
+curate, and the alferez of the Civil Guard, no less than the jeweler Simoun, as ever
+with his blue goggles and his nonchalant air.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s understood, Señor Simoun,” Capitan Basilio was saying, “that we’ll go to Tiani
+to see your jewels.”
+</p>
+<p>“I would also go,” remarked the alferez, “because I <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1191">[<a href="#xd32e1191">46</a>]</span>need a watch-chain, but I’m so busy—if Capitan Basilio would undertake—”
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Basilio would do so with the greatest pleasure, and as he wished to propitiate
+the soldier in order that he might not be molested in the persons of his laborers,
+he refused to accept the money which the alferez was trying to get out of his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s my Christmas gift!”
+</p>
+<p>“I can’t allow you, Capitan, I can’t permit it!”
+</p>
+<p>“All right! We’ll settle up afterwards,” replied Capitan Basilio with a lordly gesture.
+</p>
+<p>Also, the curate wanted a pair of lady’s earrings and requested the capitan to buy
+them for him. “I want them first class. Later we’ll fix up the account.”
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t worry about that, Padre,” said the good man, who wished to be at peace with
+the Church also. An unfavorable report on the curate’s part could do him great damage
+and cause him double the expense, for those earrings were a forced present. Simoun
+in the meantime was praising his jewels.
+</p>
+<p>“That fellow is fierce!” mused the student. “He does business everywhere. And if I
+can believe <i>a certain person,</i> he buys from some gentlemen for a half of their value the same jewels that he himself
+has sold for presents. Everybody in this country prospers but us!”
+</p>
+<p>He made his way to his house, or rather Capitan Tiago’s, now occupied by a trustworthy
+man who had held him in great esteem since the day when he had seen him perform a
+surgical operation with the same coolness that he would cut up a chicken. This man
+was now waiting to give him the news. Two of the laborers were prisoners, one was
+to be deported, and a number of carabaos had died.
+</p>
+<p>“The same old story,” exclaimed Basilio, in a bad humor. “You always receive me with
+the same complaints.” The youth was not overbearing, but as he was at times scolded
+by Capitan Tiago, he liked in his turn to chide those under his orders.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1207">[<a href="#xd32e1207">47</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The old man cast about for something new. “One of our tenants has died, the old fellow
+who took care of the woods, and the curate refused to bury him as a pauper, saying
+that his master is a rich man.”
+</p>
+<p>“What did he die of?”
+</p>
+<p>“Of old age.”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out! To die of old age! It must at least have been some disease.” Basilio in
+his zeal for making autopsies wanted diseases.
+</p>
+<p>“Haven’t you anything new to tell me? You take away my appetite relating the same
+old things. Do you know anything of Sagpang?”
+</p>
+<p>The old man then told him about the kidnapping of Cabesang Tales. Basilio became thoughtful
+and said nothing more—his appetite had completely left him.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1216">[<a href="#xd32e1216">48</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1162">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1162src">1</a></span> This legend is still current among the Tagalogs. It circulates in various forms, the
+commonest being that the king was so confined for defying the lightning; and it takes
+no great stretch of the imagination to fancy in this idea a reference to the firearms
+used by the Spanish conquerors. Quite recently (January 1909), when the nearly extinct
+volcano of Banahao shook itself and scattered a few tons of mud over the surrounding
+landscape, the people thereabout recalled this old legend, saying that it was their
+King Bernardo making another effort to get that right foot loose.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1162src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1183">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1183src">2</a></span> The reference is to <i>Noli Me Tangere,</i> in which Sinang appears.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1183src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch06" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e262">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter VI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Basilio</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">When the bells began their chimes for the midnight mass and those who preferred a
+good sleep to fiestas and ceremonies arose grumbling at the noise and movement, Basilio
+cautiously left the house, took two or three turns through the streets to see that
+he was not watched or followed, and then made his way by unfrequented paths to the
+road that led to the ancient wood of the Ibarras, which had been acquired by Capitan
+Tiago when their property was confiscated and sold. As Christmas fell under the waning
+moon that year, the place was wrapped in darkness. The chimes had ceased, and only
+the tolling sounded through the darkness of the night amid the murmur of the breeze-stirred
+branches and the measured roar of the waves on the neighboring lake, like the deep
+respiration of nature sunk in profound sleep.
+</p>
+<p>Awed by the time and place, the youth moved along with his head down, as if endeavoring
+to see through the darkness. But from time to time he raised it to gaze at the stars
+through the open spaces between the treetops and went forward parting the bushes or
+tearing away the lianas that obstructed his path. At times he retraced his steps,
+his foot would get caught among the plants, he stumbled over a projecting root or
+a fallen log. At the end of a half-hour he reached a small brook on the opposite side
+of which arose a hillock, a black and shapeless mass that in the darkness took on
+the proportions of a mountain. Basilio crossed the brook on the stones that showed
+black against the shining surface of the water, ascended the hill, and made his way
+to a small space enclosed by old and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1224">[<a href="#xd32e1224">49</a>]</span>crumbling walls. He approached the balete tree that rose in the center, huge, mysterious,
+venerable, formed of roots that extended up and down among the confusedly-interlaced
+trunks.
+</p>
+<p>Pausing before a heap of stones he took off his hat and seemed to be praying. There
+his mother was buried, and every time he came to the town his first visit was to that
+neglected and unknown grave. Since he must visit Cabesang Tales’ family the next day,
+he had taken advantage of the night to perform this duty. Seated on a stone, he seemed
+to fall into deep thought. His past rose before him like a long black film, rosy at
+first, then shadowy with spots of blood, then black, black, gray, and then light,
+ever lighter. The end could not be seen, hidden as it was by a cloud through which
+shone lights and the hues of dawn.
+</p>
+<p>Thirteen years before to the day, almost to the hour, his mother had died there in
+the deepest distress, on a glorious night when the moon shone brightly and the Christians
+of the world were engaged in rejoicing. Wounded and limping, he had reached there
+in pursuit of her—she mad and terrified, fleeing from her son as from a ghost. There
+she had died, and there had come a stranger who had commanded him to build a funeral
+pyre. He had obeyed mechanically and when he returned he found a second stranger by
+the side of the other’s corpse. What a night and what a morning those were! The stranger
+helped him raise the pyre, whereon they burned the corpse of the first, dug the grave
+in which they buried his mother, and then after giving him some pieces of money told
+him to leave the place. It was the first time that he had seen that man—tall, with
+blood-shot eyes, pale lips, and a sharp nose.
+</p>
+<p>Entirely alone in the world, without parents or brothers and sisters, he left the
+town whose authorities inspired in him such great fear and went to Manila to work
+in some rich house and study at the same time, as many do. His journey was an Odyssey
+of sleeplessness and startling surprises, in which hunger counted for little, for
+he ate the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1230">[<a href="#xd32e1230">50</a>]</span>fruits in the woods, whither he retreated whenever he made out from afar the uniform
+of the Civil Guard, a sight that recalled the origin of all his misfortunes. Once
+in Manila, ragged and sick, he went from door to door offering his services. A boy
+from the provinces who knew not a single word of Spanish, and sickly besides! Discouraged,
+hungry, and miserable, he wandered about the streets, attracting attention by the
+wretchedness of his clothing. How often was he tempted to throw himself under the
+feet of the horses that flashed by, drawing carriages shining with silver and varnish,
+thus to end his misery at once! Fortunately, he saw Capitan Tiago, accompanied by
+Aunt Isabel. He had known them since the days in San Diego, and in his joy believed
+that in them he saw almost fellow-townsfolk. He followed the carriage until he lost
+sight of it, and then made inquiries for the house. As it was the very day that Maria
+Clara entered the nunnery and Capitan Tiago was accordingly depressed, he was admitted
+as a servant, without pay, but instead with leave to study, if he so wished, in San
+Juan de Letran.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1232src" href="#xd32e1232">1</a>
+</p>
+<p>Dirty, poorly dressed, with only a pair of clogs for footwear, at the end of several
+months’ stay in Manila, he entered the first year of Latin. On seeing his clothes,
+his classmates drew away from him, and the professor, a handsome Dominican, never
+asked him a question, but frowned every time he looked at him. In the eight months
+that the class continued, the only words that passed between them were his name read
+from the roll and the daily <i>adsum</i> with which the student responded. With what bitterness he left the class each day,
+and, guessing the reason for the treatment accorded him, what tears sprang into his
+eyes and what complaints were stifled in his heart! How he had wept and sobbed over
+the grave of his mother, relating to her his hidden sorrows, humiliations, and affronts,
+when at the approach of Christmas Capitan Tiago had taken him back to San Diego! Yet
+he memorized the lessons without <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1239">[<a href="#xd32e1239">51</a>]</span>omitting a comma, although he understood scarcely any part of them. But at length
+he became resigned, noticing that among the three or four hundred in his class only
+about forty merited the honor of being questioned, because they attracted the professor’s
+attention by their appearance, some prank, comicality, or other cause. The greater
+part of the students congratulated themselves that they thus escaped the work of thinking
+and understanding the subject. “One goes to college, not to learn and study, but to
+gain credit for the course, so if the book can be memorized, what more can be asked—the
+year is thus gained.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1241src" href="#xd32e1241">2</a>
+</p>
+<p>Basilio passed the examinations by answering the solitary question asked him, like
+a machine, without stopping or breathing, and in the amusement of the examiners won
+the passing certificate. His nine companions—they were examined in batches of ten
+in order to save time—did not have such good luck, but were condemned to repeat the
+year of brutalization.
+</p>
+<p>In the second year the game-cock that he tended won a <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1254">[<a href="#xd32e1254">52</a>]</span>large sum and he received from Capitan Tiago a big tip, which he immediately invested
+in the purchase of shoes and a felt hat. With these and the clothes given him by his
+employer, which he made over to fit his person, his appearance became more decent,
+but did not get beyond that. In such a large class a great deal was needed to attract
+the professor’s attention, and the student who in the first year did not make himself
+known by some special quality, or did not capture the good-will of the professors,
+could with difficulty make himself known in the rest of his school-days. But Basilio
+kept on, for perseverance was his chief trait.
+</p>
+<p>His fortune seemed to change somewhat when he entered the third year. His professor
+happened to be a very jolly fellow, fond of jokes and of making the students laugh,
+complacent enough in that he almost always had his favorites recite the lessons—in
+fact, he was satisfied with anything. At this time Basilio now wore shoes and a clean
+and well-ironed camisa. As his professor noticed that he laughed very little at the
+jokes and that his large eyes seemed to be asking something like an eternal question,
+he took him for a fool, and one day decided to make him conspicuous by calling on
+him for the lesson. Basilio recited it from beginning to end, without hesitating over
+a single letter, so the professor called him a parrot and told a story to make the
+class laugh. Then to increase the hilarity and justify the epithet he asked several
+questions, at the same time winking to his favorites, as if to say to them, “You’ll
+see how we’re going to amuse ourselves.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio now understood Spanish and answered the questions with the plain intention
+of making no one laugh. This disgusted everybody, the expected absurdity did not materialize,
+no one could laugh, and the good friar never pardoned him for having defrauded the
+hopes of the class and disappointed his own prophecies. But who would expect anything
+worth while to come from a head so badly combed and placed on an Indian poorly shod,
+classified until recently among the arboreal animals? As in other <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1260">[<a href="#xd32e1260">53</a>]</span>centers of learning, where the teachers are honestly desirous that the students should
+learn, such discoveries usually delight the instructors, so in a college managed by
+men convinced that for the most part knowledge is an evil, at least for the students,
+the episode of Basilio produced a bad impression and he was not questioned again during
+the year. Why should he be, when he made no one laugh?
+</p>
+<p>Quite discouraged and thinking of abandoning his studies, he passed to the fourth
+year of Latin. Why study at all, why not sleep like the others and trust to luck?
+</p>
+<p>One of the two professors was very popular, beloved by all, passing for a sage, a
+great poet, and a man of advanced ideas. One day when he accompanied the collegians
+on their walk, he had a dispute with some cadets, which resulted in a skirmish and
+a challenge. No doubt recalling his brilliant youth, the professor preached a crusade
+and promised good marks to all who during the promenade on the following Sunday would
+take part in the fray. The week was a lively one—there were occasional encounters
+in which canes and sabers were crossed, and in one of these Basilio distinguished
+himself. Borne in triumph by the students and presented to the professor, he thus
+became known to him and came to be his favorite. Partly for this reason and partly
+from his diligence, that year he received the highest marks, medals included, in view
+of which Capitan Tiago, who, since his daughter had become a nun, exhibited some aversion
+to the friars, in a fit of good humor induced him to transfer to the Ateneo Municipal,
+the fame of which was then in its apogee.
+</p>
+<p>Here a new world opened before his eyes—a system of instruction that he had never
+dreamed of. Except for a few superfluities and some childish things, he was filled
+with admiration for the methods there used and with gratitude for the zeal of the
+instructors. His eyes at times filled with tears when he thought of the four previous
+years during which, from lack of means, he had been unable to study at that center.
+He had to make extraordinary efforts to get <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1266">[<a href="#xd32e1266">54</a>]</span>himself to the level of those who had had a good preparatory course, and it might
+be said that in that one year he learned the whole five of the secondary curricula.
+He received his bachelor’s degree, to the great satisfaction of his instructors, who
+in the examinations showed themselves to be proud of him before the Dominican examiners
+sent there to inspect the school. One of these, as if to dampen such great enthusiasm
+a little, asked him where he had studied the first years of Latin.
+</p>
+<p>“In San Juan de Letran, Padre,” answered Basilio.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha! Of course! He’s not bad,—in Latin,” the Dominican then remarked with a slight
+smile.
+</p>
+<p>From choice and temperament he selected the course in medicine. Capitan Tiago preferred
+the law, in order that he might have a lawyer free, but knowledge of the laws is not
+sufficient to secure clientage in the Philippines—it is necessary to win the cases,
+and for this friendships are required, influence in certain spheres, a good deal of
+astuteness. Capitan Tiago finally gave in, remembering that medical students get on
+intimate terms with corpses, and for some time he had been seeking a poison to put
+on the gaffs of his game-cocks, the best he had been able to secure thus far being
+the blood of a Chinaman who had died of syphilis.
+</p>
+<p>With equal diligence, or more if possible, the young man continued this course, and
+after the third year began to render medical services with such great success that
+he was not only preparing a brilliant future for himself but also earning enough to
+dress well and save some money. This was the last year of the course and in two months
+he would be a physician; he would come back to the town, he would marry Juliana, and
+they would be happy. The granting of his licentiateship was not only assured, but
+he expected it to be the crowning act of his school-days, for he had been designated
+to deliver the valedictory at the graduation, and already he saw himself in the rostrum,
+before the whole faculty, the object of public attention. All <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1273">[<a href="#xd32e1273">55</a>]</span>those heads, leaders of Manila science, half-hidden in their colored capes; all the
+women who came there out of curiosity and who years before had gazed at him, if not
+with disdain, at least with indifference; all those men whose carriages had once been
+about to crush him down in the mud like a dog: they would listen attentively, and
+he was going to say something to them that would not be trivial, something that had
+never before resounded in that place, he was going to forget himself in order to aid
+the poor students of the future—and he would make his entrance on his work in the
+world with that speech.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1275">[<a href="#xd32e1275">56</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1232">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1232src">1</a></span> The Dominican school of secondary instruction in Manila.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1232src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1241">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1241src">2</a></span> “The studies of secondary instruction given in Santo Tomas, in the college of San
+Juan de Letran, and of San José, and in the private schools, had the defects inherent
+in the plan of instruction which the friars developed in the Philippines. It suited
+their plans that scientific and literary knowledge should not become general nor very
+extensive, for which reason they took but little interest in the study of those subjects
+or in the quality of the instruction. Their educational establishments were places
+of luxury for the children of wealthy and well-to-do families rather than establishments
+in which to perfect and develop the minds of the Filipino youth. It is true they were
+careful to give them a religious education, tending to make them respect the omnipotent
+power (<i>sic</i>) of the monastic corporations.
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">“The intellectual powers were made dormant by devoting a greater part of the time
+to the study of Latin, to which they attached an extraordinary importance, for the
+purpose of discouraging pupils from studying the exact and experimental sciences and
+from gaining a knowledge of true literary studies.
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">“The philosophic system explained was naturally the scholastic one, with an exceedingly
+refined and subtile logic, and with deficient ideas upon physics. By the study of
+Latin, and their philosophic systems, they converted their pupils into automatic machines
+rather than into practical men prepared to battle with life.”—<i>Census of the Philippine Islands (Washington, 1905), Volume III, pp. 601, 602.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1241src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch07" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e272">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter VII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Simoun</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Over these matters Basilio was pondering as he visited his mother’s grave. He was
+about to start back to the town when he thought he saw a light flickering among the
+trees and heard the snapping of twigs, the sound of feet, and rustling of leaves.
+The light disappeared but the noises became more distinct, coming directly toward
+where he was. Basilio was not naturally superstitious, especially after having carved
+up so many corpses and watched beside so many death-beds, but the old legends about
+that ghostly spot, the hour, the darkness, the melancholy sighing of the wind, and
+certain tales heard in his childhood, asserted their influence over his mind and made
+his heart beat violently.
+</p>
+<p>The figure stopped on the other side of the balete, but the youth could see it through
+an open space between two roots that had grown in the course of time to the proportions
+of tree-trunks. It produced from under its coat a lantern with a powerful reflecting
+lens, which it placed on the ground, thereby lighting up a pair of riding-boots, the
+rest of the figure remaining concealed in the darkness. The figure seemed to search
+its pockets and then bent over to fix a shovel-blade on the end of a stout cane. To
+his great surprise Basilio thought he could make out some of the features of the jeweler
+Simoun, who indeed it was.
+</p>
+<p>The jeweler dug in the ground and from time to time the lantern illuminated his face,
+on which were not now the blue goggles that so completely disguised him. Basilio shuddered:
+that was the same stranger who thirteen years before had dug his mother’s grave there,
+only now he had aged somewhat, his hair had turned white, he wore a beard <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1284">[<a href="#xd32e1284">57</a>]</span>and a mustache, but yet his look was the same, the bitter expression, the same cloud
+on his brow, the same muscular arms, though somewhat thinner now, the same violent
+energy. Old impressions were stirred in the boy: he seemed to feel the heat of the
+fire, the hunger, the weariness of that time, the smell of freshly turned earth. Yet
+his discovery terrified him—that jeweler Simoun, who passed for a British Indian,
+a Portuguese, an American, a mulatto, the Brown Cardinal, his Black Eminence, the
+evil genius of the Captain-General as many called him, was no other than the mysterious
+stranger whose appearance and disappearance coincided with the death of the heir to
+that land! But of the two strangers who had appeared, which was Ibarra, the living
+or the dead?
+</p>
+<p>This question, which he had often asked himself whenever Ibarra’s death was mentioned,
+again came into his mind in the presence of the human enigma he now saw before him.
+The dead man had had two wounds, which must have been made by firearms, as he knew
+from what he had since studied, and which would be the result of the chase on the
+lake. Then the dead man must have been Ibarra, who had come to die at the tomb of
+his forefathers, his desire to be cremated being explained by his residence in Europe,
+where cremation is practised. Then who was the other, the living, this jeweler Simoun,
+at that time with such an appearance of poverty and wretchedness, but who had now
+returned loaded with gold and a friend of the authorities? There was the mystery,
+and the student, with his characteristic cold-bloodedness, determined to clear it
+up at the first opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun dug away for some time, but Basilio noticed that his old vigor had declined—he
+panted and had to rest every few moments. Fearing that he might be discovered, the
+boy made a sudden resolution. Rising from his seat and issuing from his hiding-place,
+he asked in the most matter-of-fact tone, “Can I help you, sir?”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun straightened up with the spring of a tiger <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1290">[<a href="#xd32e1290">58</a>]</span>attacked at his prey, thrust his hand in his coat pocket, and stared at the student
+with a pale and lowering gaze.
+</p>
+<p>“Thirteen years ago you rendered me a great service, sir,” went on Basilio unmoved,
+“in this very place, by burying my mother, and I should consider myself happy if I
+could serve you now.”
+</p>
+<p>Without taking his eyes off the youth Simoun drew a revolver from his pocket and the
+click of a hammer being cocked was heard. “For whom do you take me?” he asked, retreating
+a few paces.
+</p>
+<p>“For a person who is sacred to me,” replied Basilio with some emotion, for he thought
+his last moment had come. “For a person whom all, except me, believe to be dead, and
+whose misfortunes I have always lamented.”
+</p>
+<p>An impressive silence followed these words, a silence that to the youth seemed to
+suggest eternity. But Simoun, after some hesitation, approached him and placing a
+hand on his shoulder said in a moving tone: “Basilio, you possess a secret that can
+ruin me and now you have just surprised me in another, which puts me completely in
+your hands, the divulging of which would upset all my plans. For my own security and
+for the good of the cause in which I labor, I ought to seal your lips forever, for
+what is the life of one man compared to the end I seek? The occasion is fitting; no
+one knows that I have come here; I am armed; you are defenceless; your death would
+be attributed to the outlaws, if not to more supernatural causes—yet I’ll let you
+live and trust that I shall not regret it. You have toiled, you have struggled with
+energetic perseverance, and like myself, you have your scores to settle with society.
+Your brother was murdered, your mother driven to insanity, and society has prosecuted
+neither the assassin nor the executioner. You and I are the dregs of justice and instead
+of destroying we ought to aid each other.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun paused with a repressed sigh, and then slowly resumed, while his gaze wandered
+about: “Yes, I am he who came here thirteen years ago, sick and wretched, to pay <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1299">[<a href="#xd32e1299">59</a>]</span>the last tribute to a great and noble soul that was willing to die for me. The victim
+of a vicious system, I have wandered over the world, working night and day to amass
+a fortune and carry out my plan. Now I have returned to destroy that system, to precipitate
+its downfall, to hurl it into the abyss toward which it is senselessly rushing, even
+though I may have to shed oceans of tears and blood. It has condemned itself, it stands
+condemned, and I don’t want to die before I have seen it in fragments at the foot
+of the precipice!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun extended both his arms toward the earth, as if with that gesture he would like
+to hold there the broken remains. His voice took on a sinister, even lugubrious tone,
+which made the student shudder.
+</p>
+<p>“Called by the vices of the rulers, I have returned to these islands, and under the
+cloak of a merchant have visited the towns. My gold has opened a way for me and wheresoever
+I have beheld greed in the most execrable forms, sometimes hypocritical, sometimes
+shameless, sometimes cruel, fatten on the dead organism, like a vulture on a corpse,
+I have asked myself—why was there not, festering in its vitals, the corruption, the
+ptomaine, the poison of the tombs, to kill the foul bird? The corpse was letting itself
+be consumed, the vulture was gorging itself with meat, and because it was not possible
+for me to give it life so that it might turn against its destroyer, and because the
+corruption developed slowly, I have stimulated greed, I have abetted it. The cases
+of injustice and the abuses multiplied themselves; I have instigated crime and acts
+of cruelty, so that the people might become accustomed to the idea of death. I have
+stirred up trouble so that to escape from it some remedy might be found; I have placed
+obstacles in the way of trade so that the country, impoverished and reduced to misery,
+might no longer be afraid of anything; I have excited desires to plunder the treasury,
+and as this has not been enough to bring about a popular uprising, I have wounded
+the people in their most sensitive fiber; I have <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1304">[<a href="#xd32e1304">60</a>]</span>made the vulture itself insult the very corpse that it feeds upon and hasten the corruption.
+</p>
+<p>“Now, when I was about to get the supreme rottenness, the supreme filth, the mixture
+of such foul products brewing poison, when the greed was beginning to irritate, in
+its folly hastening to seize whatever came to hand, like an old woman caught in a
+conflagration, here you come with your cries of Hispanism, with chants of confidence
+in the government, in what cannot come to pass, here you have a body palpitating with
+heat and life, young, pure, vigorous, throbbing with blood, with enthusiasm, suddenly
+come forth to offer itself again as fresh food!
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, youth is ever inexperienced and dreamy, always running after the butterflies
+and flowers! You have united, so that by your efforts you may bind your fatherland
+to Spain with garlands of roses when in reality you are forging upon it chains harder
+than the diamond! You ask for equal rights, the Hispanization of your customs, and
+you don’t see that what you are begging for is suicide, the destruction of your nationality,
+the annihilation of your fatherland, the consecration of tyranny! What will you be
+in the future? A people without character, a nation without liberty—everything you
+have will be borrowed, even your very defects! You beg for Hispanization, and do not
+pale with shame when they deny it you! And even if they should grant it to you, what
+then—what have you gained? At best, a country of pronunciamentos, a land of civil
+wars, a republic of the greedy and the malcontents, like some of the republics of
+South America! To what are you tending now, with your instruction in Castilian, a
+pretension that would be ridiculous were it not for its deplorable consequences! You
+wish to add one more language to the forty odd that are spoken in the islands, so
+that you may understand one another less and less.”
+</p>
+<p>“On the contrary,” replied Basilio, “if the knowledge of Castilian may bind us to
+the government, in exchange it may also unite the islands among themselves.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1310">[<a href="#xd32e1310">61</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“A gross error!” rejoined Simoun. “You are letting yourselves be deceived by big words
+and never go to the bottom of things to examine the results in their final analysis.
+Spanish will never be the general language of the country, the people will never talk
+it, because the conceptions of their brains and the feelings of their hearts cannot
+be expressed in that language—each people has its own tongue, as it has its own way
+of thinking! What are you going to do with Castilian, the few of you who will speak
+it? Kill off your own originality, subordinate your thoughts to other brains, and
+instead of freeing yourselves, make yourselves slaves indeed! Nine-tenths of those
+of you who pretend to be enlightened are renegades to your country! He among you who
+talks that language neglects his own in such a way that he neither writes nor understands
+it, and how many have I not seen who pretended not to know a single word of it! But
+fortunately, you have an imbecile government! While Russia enslaves Poland by forcing
+the Russian language upon it, while Germany prohibits French in the conquered provinces,
+your government strives to preserve yours, and you in return, a remarkable people
+under an incredible government, you are trying to despoil yourselves of your own nationality!
+One and all you forget that while a people preserves its language, it preserves the
+marks of its liberty, as a man preserves his independence while he holds to his own
+way of thinking. Language is the thought of the peoples. Luckily, your independence
+is assured; human passions are looking out for that!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun paused and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The waning moon was rising and
+sent its faint light down through the branches of the trees, and with his white locks
+and severe features, illuminated from below by the lantern, the jeweler appeared to
+be the fateful spirit of the wood planning some evil.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio was silent before such bitter reproaches and listened with bowed head, while
+Simoun resumed: “I saw this movement started and have passed whole nights of <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1315">[<a href="#xd32e1315">62</a>]</span>anguish, because I understood that among those youths there were exceptional minds
+and hearts, sacrificing themselves for what they thought to be a good cause, when
+in reality they were working against their own country. How many times have I wished
+to speak to you young men, to reveal myself and undeceive you! But in view of the
+reputation I enjoy, my words would have been wrongly interpreted and would perhaps
+have had a counter effect. How many times have I not longed to approach your Makaraig,
+your Isagani! Sometimes I thought of their death, I wished to destroy them—”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun checked himself.
+</p>
+<p>“Here’s why I let you live, Basilio, and by such imprudence I expose myself to the
+risk of being some day betrayed by you. But you know who I am, you know how much I
+must have suffered—then believe in me! You are not of the common crowd, which sees
+in the jeweler Simoun the trader who incites the authorities to commit abuses in order
+that the abused may buy jewels. I am the Judge who wishes to castigate this system
+by making use of its own defects, to make war on it by flattering it. I need your
+help, your influence among the youth, to combat these senseless desires for Hispanization,
+for assimilation, for equal rights. By that road you will become only a poor copy,
+and the people should look higher. It is madness to attempt to influence the thoughts
+of the rulers—they have their plan outlined, the bandage covers their eyes, and besides
+losing time uselessly, you are deceiving the people with vain hopes and are helping
+to bend their necks before the tyrant. What you should do is to take advantage of
+their prejudices to serve your needs. Are they unwilling that you be assimilated with
+the Spanish people? Good enough! Distinguish yourselves then by revealing yourselves
+in your own character, try to lay the foundations of the Philippine fatherland! Do
+they deny you hope? Good! Don’t depend on them, depend upon yourselves and work! Do
+they deny you representation <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1321">[<a href="#xd32e1321">63</a>]</span>in their Cortes? So much the better! Even should you succeed in sending representatives
+of your own choice, what are you going to accomplish there except to be overwhelmed
+among so many voices, and sanction with your presence the abuses and wrongs that are
+afterwards perpetrated? The fewer rights they allow you, the more reason you will
+have later to throw off the yoke, and return evil for evil. If they are unwilling
+to teach you their language, cultivate your own, extend it, preserve to the people
+their own way of thinking, and instead of aspiring to be a province, aspire to be
+a nation! Instead of subordinate thoughts, think independently, to the end that neither
+by right, nor custom, nor language, the Spaniard can be considered the master here,
+nor even be looked upon as a part of the country, but ever as an invader, a foreigner,
+and sooner or later you will have your liberty! Here’s why I let you live!”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio breathed freely, as though a great weight had been lifted from him, and after
+a brief pause, replied: “Sir, the honor you do me in confiding your plans to me is
+too great for me not to be frank with you, and tell you that what you ask of me is
+beyond my power. I am no politician, and if I have signed the petition for instruction
+in Castilian it has been because I saw in it an advantage to our studies and nothing
+more. My destiny is different; my aspiration reduces itself to alleviating the physical
+sufferings of my fellow men.”
+</p>
+<p>The jeweler smiled. “What are physical sufferings compared to moral tortures? What
+is the death of a man in the presence of the death of a society? Some day you will
+perhaps be a great physician, if they let you go your way in peace, but greater yet
+will be he who can inject a new idea into this anemic people! You, what are you doing
+for the land that gave you existence, that supports your life, that affords you knowledge?
+Don’t you realize that that is a useless life which is not consecrated to a great
+idea? It is a stone wasted in the fields without becoming a part of any edifice.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1326">[<a href="#xd32e1326">64</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“No, no, sir!” replied Basilio modestly, “I’m not folding my arms, I’m working like
+all the rest to raise up from the ruins of the past a people whose units will be bound
+together—that each one may feel in himself the conscience and the life of the whole.
+But however enthusiastic our generation may be, we understand that in this great social
+fabric there must be a division of labor. I have chosen my task and will devote myself
+to science.”
+</p>
+<p>“Science is not the end of man,” declared Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“The most civilized nations are tending toward it.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, but only as a means of seeking their welfare.”
+</p>
+<p>“Science is more eternal, it’s more human, it’s more universal!” exclaimed the youth
+in a transport of enthusiasm. “Within a few centuries, when humanity has become redeemed
+and enlightened, when there are no races, when all peoples are free, when there are
+neither tyrants nor slaves, colonies nor mother countries, when justice rules and
+man is a citizen of the world, the pursuit of science alone will remain, the word
+patriotism will be equivalent to fanaticism, and he who prides himself on patriotic
+ideas will doubtless be isolated as a dangerous disease, as a menace to the social
+order.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun smiled sadly. “Yes, yes,” he said with a shake of his head, “yet to reach that
+condition it is necessary that there be no tyrannical and no enslaved peoples, it
+is necessary that man go about freely, that he know how to respect the rights of others
+in their own individuality, and for this there is yet much blood to be shed, the struggle
+forces itself forward. To overcome the ancient fanaticism that bound consciences it
+was necessary that many should perish in the holocausts, so that the social conscience
+in horror declared the individual conscience free. It is also necessary that all answer
+the question which with each day the fatherland asks them, with its fettered hands
+extended! Patriotism can only be a crime in a tyrannical people, because then it is
+rapine under a beautiful name, but however <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1334">[<a href="#xd32e1334">65</a>]</span>perfect humanity may become, patriotism will always be a virtue among oppressed peoples,
+because it will at all times mean love of justice, of liberty, of personal dignity—nothing
+of chimerical dreams, of effeminate idyls! The greatness of a man is not in living
+before his time, a thing almost impossible, but in understanding its desires, in responding
+to its needs, and in guiding it on its forward way. The geniuses that are commonly
+believed to have existed before their time, only appear so because those who judge
+them see from a great distance, or take as representative of the age the line of stragglers!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun fell silent. Seeing that he could awake no enthusiasm in that unresponsive
+mind, he turned to another subject and asked with a change of tone: “And what are
+you doing for the memory of your mother and your brother? Is it enough that you come
+here every year, to weep like a woman over a grave?” And he smiled sarcastically.
+</p>
+<p>The shot hit the mark. Basilio changed color and advanced a step.
+</p>
+<p>“What do you want me to do?” he asked angrily.
+</p>
+<p>“Without means, without social position, how may I bring their murderers to justice?
+I would merely be another victim, shattered like a piece of glass hurled against a
+rock. Ah, you do ill to recall this to me, since it is wantonly reopening a wound!”
+</p>
+<p>“But what if I should offer you my aid?”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio shook his head and remained pensive. “All the tardy vindications of justice,
+all the revenge in the world, will not restore a single hair of my mother’s head,
+or recall a smile to my brother’s lips. Let them rest in peace—what should I gain
+now by avenging them?”
+</p>
+<p>“Prevent others from suffering what you have suffered, that in the future there be
+no brothers murdered or mothers driven to madness. Resignation is not always a virtue;
+it is a crime when it encourages tyrants: there are no despots where there are no
+slaves! Man is in his own nature so wicked that he always abuses complaisance. I thought
+as <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1345">[<a href="#xd32e1345">66</a>]</span>you do, and you know what my fate was. Those who caused your misfortunes are watching
+you day and night, they suspect that you are only biding your time, they take your
+eagerness to learn, your love of study, your very complaisance, for burning desires
+for revenge. The day they can get rid of you they will do with you as they did with
+me, and they will not let you grow to manhood, because they fear and hate you!”
+</p>
+<p>“Hate me? Still hate me after the wrong they have done me?” asked the youth in surprise.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun burst into a laugh. “ ‘It is natural for man to hate those whom he has wronged,’
+said Tacitus, confirming the <i lang="la">quos laeserunt et oderunt</i> of Seneca. When you wish to gauge the evil or the good that one people has done to
+another, you have only to observe whether it hates or loves. Thus is explained the
+reason why many who have enriched themselves here in the high offices they have filled,
+on their return to the Peninsula relieve themselves by slanders and insults against
+those who have been their victims. <i lang="la">Proprium humani ingenii est odisse quern laeseris!”</i>
+</p>
+<p>“But if the world is large, if one leaves them to the peaceful enjoyment of power,
+if I ask only to be allowed to work, to live—”
+</p>
+<p>“And to rear meek-natured sons to send them afterwards to submit to the yoke,” continued
+Simoun, cruelly mimicking Basilio’s tone. “A fine future you prepare for them, and
+they have to thank you for a life of humiliation and suffering! Good enough, young
+man! When a body is inert, it is useless to galvanize it. Twenty years of continuous
+slavery, of systematic humiliation, of constant prostration, finally create in the
+mind a twist that cannot be straightened by the labor of a day. Good and evil instincts
+are inherited and transmitted from father to son. Then let your idylic ideas live,
+your dreams of a slave who asks only for a bandage to wrap the chain so that it may
+rattle less and not ulcerate his skin! You hope for a little home and some ease, a
+wife and a handful of rice—here is your <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1359">[<a href="#xd32e1359">67</a>]</span>ideal man of the Philippines! Well, if they give it to you, consider yourself fortunate.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio, accustomed to obey and bear with the caprices and humors of Capitan Tiago.
+was now dominated by Simoun, who appeared to him terrible and sinister on a background
+bathed in tears and blood. He tried to explain himself by saying that he did not consider
+himself fit to mix in politics, that he had no political opinions because he had never
+studied the question, but that he was always ready to lend his services the day they
+might be needed, that for the moment he saw only one need, the enlightenment of the
+people.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun stopped him with a gesture, and, as the dawn was coming, said to him: “Young
+man, I am not warning you to keep my secret, because I know that discretion is one
+of your good qualities, and even though you might wish to sell me, the jeweler Simoun,
+the friend of the authorities and of the religious corporations, will always be given
+more credit than the student Basilio, already suspected of filibusterism, and, being
+a native, so much the more marked and watched, and because in the profession you are
+entering upon you will encounter powerful rivals. After all, even though you have
+not corresponded to my hopes, the day on which you change your mind, look me up at
+my house in the Escolta, and I’ll be glad to help you.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio thanked him briefly and went away.
+</p>
+<p>“Have I really made a mistake?” mused Simoun, when he found himself alone. “Is it
+that he doubts me and meditates his plan of revenge so secretly that he fears to tell
+it even in the solitude of the night? Or can it be that the years of servitude have
+extinguished in his heart every human sentiment and there remain only the animal desires
+to live and reproduce? In that case the type is deformed and will have to be cast
+over again. Then the hecatomb is preparing: let the unfit perish and only the strongest
+survive!”
+</p>
+<p>Then he added sadly, as if apostrophizing some one: <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1368">[<a href="#xd32e1368">68</a>]</span>“Have patience, you who left me a name and a home, have patience! I have lost all—country,
+future, prosperity, your very tomb, but have patience! And thou, noble spirit, great
+soul, generous heart, who didst live with only one thought and didst sacrifice thy
+life without asking the gratitude or applause of any one, have patience, have patience!
+The methods that I use may perhaps not be thine, but they are the most direct. The
+day is coming, and when it brightens I myself will come to announce it to you who
+are now indifferent. Have patience!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1370">[<a href="#xd32e1370">69</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch08" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e282">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter VIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Merry Christmas!</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">When Juli opened her sorrowing eyes, she saw that the house was still dark, but the
+cocks were crowing. Her first thought was that perhaps the Virgin had performed the
+miracle and the sun was not going to rise, in spite of the invocations of the cocks.
+She rose, crossed herself, recited her morning prayers with great devotion, and with
+as little noise as possible went out on the <i>batalan.</i>
+</p>
+<p>There was no miracle—the sun was rising and promised a magnificent morning, the breeze
+was delightfully cool, the stars were paling in the east, and the cocks were crowing
+as if to see who could crow best and loudest. That had been too much to ask—it were
+much easier to request the Virgin to send the two hundred and fifty pesos. What would
+it cost the Mother of the Lord to give them? But underneath the image she found only
+the letter of her father asking for the ransom of five hundred pesos. There was nothing
+to do but go, so, seeing that her grandfather was not stirring, she thought him asleep
+and began to prepare breakfast. Strange, she was calm, she even had a desire to laugh!
+What had she had last night to afflict her so? She was not going very far, she could
+come every second day to visit the house, her grandfather could see her, and as for
+Basilio, he had known for some time the bad turn her father’s affairs had taken, since
+he had often said to her, “When I’m a physician and we are married, your father won’t
+need his fields.”
+</p>
+<p>“What a fool I was to cry so much,” she said to herself as she packed her <i>tampipi.</i> Her fingers struck against the locket and she pressed it to her lips, but immediately
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1384">[<a href="#xd32e1384">70</a>]</span>wiped them from fear of contagion, for that locket set with diamonds and emeralds
+had come from a leper. Ah, then, if she should catch that disease she could not get
+married.
+</p>
+<p>As it became lighter, she could see her grandfather seated in a corner, following
+all her movements with his eyes, so she caught up her <i>tampipi</i> of clothes and approached him smilingly to kiss his hand. The old man blessed her
+silently, while she tried to appear merry. “When father comes back, tell him that
+I have at last gone to college—my mistress talks Spanish. It’s the cheapest college
+I could find.”
+</p>
+<p>Seeing the old man’s eyes fill with tears, she placed the <i>tampipi</i> on her head and hastily went downstairs, her slippers slapping merrily on the wooden
+steps. But when she turned her head to look again at the house, the house wherein
+had faded her childhood dreams and her maiden illusions, when she saw it sad, lonely,
+deserted, with the windows half closed, vacant and dark like a dead man’s eyes, when
+she heard the low rustling of the bamboos, and saw them nodding in the fresh morning
+breeze as though bidding her farewell, then her vivacity disappeared; she stopped,
+her eyes filled with tears, and letting herself fall in a sitting posture on a log
+by the wayside she broke out into disconsolate tears.
+</p>
+<p>Juli had been gone several hours and the sun was quite high overhead when Tandang
+Selo gazed from the window at the people in their festival garments going to the town
+to attend the high mass. Nearly all led by the hand or carried in their arms a little
+boy or girl decked out as if for a fiesta.
+</p>
+<p>Christmas day in the Philippines is, according to the elders, a fiesta for the children,
+who are perhaps not of the same opinion and who, it may be supposed, have for it an
+instinctive dread. They are roused early, washed, dressed, and decked out with everything
+new, dear, and precious that they possess—high silk shoes, big hats, woolen or velvet
+suits, without overlooking four or five <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1397">[<a href="#xd32e1397">71</a>]</span>scapularies, which contain texts from St. John, and thus burdened they are carried
+to the high mass, where for almost an hour they are subjected to the heat and the
+human smells from so many crowding, perspiring people, and if they are not made to
+recite the rosary they must remain quiet, bored, or asleep. At each movement or antic
+that may soil their clothing they are pinched and scolded, so the fact is that they
+do not laugh or feel happy, while in their round eyes can be read a protest against
+so much embroidery and a longing for the old shirt of week-days.
+</p>
+<p>Afterwards, they are dragged from house to house to kiss their relatives’ hands. There
+they have to dance, sing, and recite all the amusing things they know, whether in
+the humor or not, whether comfortable or not in their fine clothes, with the eternal
+pinchings and scoldings if they play any of their tricks. Their relatives give them
+cuartos which their parents seize upon and of which they hear nothing more. The only
+positive results they are accustomed to get from the fiesta are the marks of the aforesaid
+pinchings, the vexations, and at best an attack of indigestion from gorging themselves
+with candy and cake in the houses of kind relatives. But such is the custom, and Filipino
+children enter the world through these ordeals, which afterwards prove the least sad,
+the least hard, of their lives.
+</p>
+<p>Adult persons who live independently also share in this fiesta, by visiting their
+parents and their parents’ relatives, crooking their knees, and wishing them a merry
+Christmas. Their Christmas gift consists of a sweetmeat, some fruit, a glass of water,
+or some insignificant present.
+</p>
+<p>Tandang Selo saw all his friends pass and thought sadly that this year he had no Christmas
+gift for anybody, while his granddaughter had gone without hers, without wishing him
+a merry Christinas. Was it delicacy on Juli’s part or pure forgetfulness?
+</p>
+<p>When he tried to greet the relatives who called on him, bringing their children, he
+found to his great surprise that he could not articulate a word. Vainly he tried,
+but no <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1405">[<a href="#xd32e1405">72</a>]</span>sound could he utter. He placed his hands on his throat, shook his head, but without
+effect. When he tried to laugh, his lips trembled convulsively and the only noise
+produced was a hoarse wheeze like the blowing of bellows.
+</p>
+<p>The women gazed at him in consternation. “He’s dumb, he’s dumb!” they cried in astonishment,
+raising at once a literal pandemonium.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1409">[<a href="#xd32e1409">73</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch09" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e292">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter IX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Pilates</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">When the news of this misfortune became known in the town, some lamented it and others
+shrugged their shoulders. No one was to blame, and no one need lay it on his conscience.
+</p>
+<p>The lieutenant of the Civil Guard gave no sign: he had received an order to take up
+all the arms and he had performed his duty. He had chased the tulisanes whenever he
+could, and when they captured Cabesang Tales he had organized an expedition and brought
+into the town, with their arms bound behind them, five or six rustics who looked suspicious,
+so if Cabesang Tales did not show up it was because he was not in the pockets or under
+the skins of the prisoners, who were thoroughly shaken out.
+</p>
+<p>The friar-administrator shrugged his shoulders: he had nothing to do with it, it was
+a matter of tulisanes and he had merely done his duty. True it was that if he had
+not entered the complaint, perhaps the arms would not have been taken up, and poor
+Tales would not have been captured; but he, Fray Clemente, had to look after his own
+safety, and that Tales had a way of staring at him as if picking out a good target
+in some part of his body. Self-defense is natural. If there are tulisanes, the fault
+is not his, it is not his duty to run them down—that belongs to the Civil Guard. If
+Cabesang Tales, instead of wandering about his fields, had stayed at home, he would
+not have been captured. In short, that was a punishment from heaven upon those who
+resisted the demands of his corporation.
+</p>
+<p>When Sister Penchang, the pious old woman in whose <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1419">[<a href="#xd32e1419">74</a>]</span>service Juli had entered, learned of it, she ejaculated several <i>’Susmarioseps</i>, crossed herself, and remarked, “Often God sends these trials because we are sinners
+or have sinning relatives, to whom we should have taught piety and we haven’t done
+so.”
+</p>
+<p>Those <i>sinning relatives</i> referred to Juliana, for to this pious woman Juli was a great sinner. “Think of a
+girl of marriageable age who doesn’t yet know how to pray! <i>Jesús</i>, how scandalous! If the wretch doesn’t say the <i lang="es">Diós te salve María</i> without stopping at <i>es contigo</i>, and the <i>Santa María</i> without a pause after <i>pecadores</i>, as every good Christian who fears God ought to do! She doesn’t know the <i>oremus gratiam</i>, and says <i>mentíbus</i> for <i>méntibus</i>. Anybody hearing her would think she was talking about something else. <i>’Susmariosep!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>Greatly scandalized, she made the sign of the cross and thanked God, who had permitted
+the capture of the father in order that the daughter might be snatched from sin and
+learn the virtues which, according to the curates, should adorn every Christian woman.
+She therefore kept the girl constantly at work, not allowing her to return to the
+village to look after her grandfather. Juli had to learn how to pray, to read the
+books distributed by the friars, and to work until the two hundred and fifty pesos
+should be paid.
+</p>
+<p>When she learned that Basilio had gone to Manila to get his savings and ransom Juli
+from her servitude, the good woman believed that the girl was forever lost and that
+the devil had presented himself in the guise of the student. Dreadful as it all was,
+how true was that little book the curate had given her! Youths who go to Manila to
+study are ruined and then ruin the others. Thinking to rescue Juli, she made her read
+and re-read the book called <i>Tandang Basio Macunat</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1452src" href="#xd32e1452">1</a> charging her always to go and see the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1455">[<a href="#xd32e1455">75</a>]</span>curate in the convento,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1457src" href="#xd32e1457">2</a> as did the heroine, who is so praised by the author, a friar.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the friars had gained their point. They had certainly won the suit, so
+they took advantage of Cabesang Tales’ captivity to turn the fields over to the one
+who had asked for them, without the least thought of honor or the faintest twinge
+of shame. When the former owner returned and learned what had happened, when he saw
+his fields in another’s possession,—those fields that had cost the lives of his wife
+and daughter,—when he saw his father dumb and his daughter working as a servant, and
+when he himself received an order from the town council, transmitted through the headman
+of the village, to move out of the house within three days, he said nothing; he sat
+down at his father’s side and spoke scarcely once during the whole day.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1462">[<a href="#xd32e1462">76</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1452">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1452src">1</a></span> The nature of this booklet, in Tagalog, is made clear in several passages. It was
+issued by the Franciscans, but proved too outspoken for even Latin refinement, and
+was suppressed by the Order itself.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1452src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1457">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1457src">2</a></span> The rectory or parish house.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1457src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e302">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter X</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Wealth and Want</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">On the following day, to the great surprise of the village, the jeweler Simoun, followed
+by two servants, each carrying a canvas-covered chest, requested the hospitality of
+Cabesang Tales, who even in the midst of his wretchedness did not forget the good
+Filipino customs—rather, he was troubled to think that he had no way of properly entertaining
+the stranger. But Simoun brought everything with him, servants and provisions, and
+merely wished to spend the day and night in the house because it was the largest in
+the village and was situated between San Diego and Tiani, towns where he hoped to
+find many customers.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun secured information about the condition of the roads and asked Cabesang Tales
+if his revolver was a sufficient protection against the tulisanes.
+</p>
+<p>“They have rifles that shoot a long way,” was the rather absent-minded reply.
+</p>
+<p>“This revolver does no less,” remarked Simoun, firing at an areca-palm some two hundred
+paces away.
+</p>
+<p>Cabesang Tales noticed that some nuts fell, but remained silent and thoughtful.
+</p>
+<p>Gradually the families, drawn by the fame of the jeweler’s wares, began to collect.
+They wished one another merry Christmas, they talked of masses, saints, poor crops,
+but still were there to spend their savings for jewels and trinkets brought from Europe.
+It was known that the jeweler was the friend of the Captain-General, so it wasn’t
+lost labor to get on good terms with him, and thus be prepared for contingencies.
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Basilio came with his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1475">[<a href="#xd32e1475">77</a>]</span>prepared to spend at least three thousand pesos. Sister Penchang was there to buy
+a diamond ring she had promised to the Virgin of Antipolo. She had left Juli at home
+memorizing a booklet the curate had sold her for four cuartos, with forty days of
+indulgence granted by the Archbishop to every one who read it or listened to it read.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Jesús!</i>” said the pious woman to Capitana Tika, “that poor girl has grown up like a mushroom
+planted by the <i>tikbalang.</i> I’ve made her read the book at the top of her voice at least fifty times and she
+doesn’t remember a single word of it. She has a head like a sieve—full when it’s in
+the water. All of us hearing her, even the dogs and cats, have won at least twenty
+years of indulgence.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun arranged his two chests on the table, one being somewhat larger than the other.
+“You don’t want plated jewelry or imitation gems. This lady,” turning to Sinang, “wants
+real diamonds.”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s it, yes, sir, diamonds, old diamonds, antique stones, you know,” she responded.
+“Papa will pay for them, because he likes antique things, antique stones.” Sinang
+was accustomed to joke about the great deal of Latin her father understood and the
+little her husband knew.
+</p>
+<p>“It just happens that I have some antique jewels,” replied Simoun, taking the canvas
+cover from the smaller chest, a polished steel case with bronze trimmings and stout
+locks. “I have necklaces of Cleopatra’s, real and genuine, discovered in the Pyramids;
+rings of Roman senators and knights, found in the ruins of Carthage.”
+</p>
+<p>“Probably those that Hannibal sent back after the battle of Cannae!” exclaimed Capitan
+Basilio seriously, while he trembled with pleasure. The good man, thought he had read
+much about the ancients, had never, by reason of the lack of museums in Filipinas,
+seen any of the objects of those times.
+</p>
+<p>“I have brought besides costly earrings of Roman ladies, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1490">[<a href="#xd32e1490">78</a>]</span>discovered in the villa of Annius Mucius Papilinus in Pompeii.”
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Easilio nodded to show that he understood and was eager to see such precious
+relics. The women remarked that they also wanted things from Rome, such as rosaries
+blessed by the Pope, holy relics that would take away sins without the need of confessions,
+and so on.
+</p>
+<p>When the chest was opened and the cotton packing removed, there was exposed a tray
+filled with rings, reliquaries, lockets, crucifixes, brooches, and such like. The
+diamonds set in among variously colored stones flashed out brightly and shimmered
+among golden flowers of varied hues, with petals of enamel, all of peculiar designs
+and rare Arabesque workmanship.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun lifted the tray and exhibited another filled with quaint jewels that would
+have satisfied the imaginations of seven débutantes on the eves of the balls in their
+honor. Designs, one more fantastic than the other, combinations of precious stones
+and pearls worked into the figures of insects with azure backs and transparent forewings,
+sapphires, emeralds, rubies, turquoises, diamonds, joined to form dragon-flies, wasps,
+bees, butterflies, beetles, serpents, lizards, fishes, sprays of flowers. There were
+diadems, necklaces of pearls and diamonds, so that some of the girls could not withhold
+a <i>nakú</i> of admiration, and Sinang gave a cluck with her tongue, whereupon her mother pinched
+her to prevent her from encouraging the jeweler to raise his prices, for Capitana
+Tika still pinched her daughter even after the latter was married.
+</p>
+<p>“Here you have some old diamonds,” explained the jeweler. “This ring belonged to the
+Princess Lamballe and those earrings to one of Marie Antoinette’s ladies.” They consisted
+of some beautiful solitaire diamonds, as large as grains of corn, with somewhat bluish
+lights, and pervaded with a severe elegance, as though they still reflected in their
+sparkles the shuddering of the Reign of Terror.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1500">[<a href="#xd32e1500">79</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Those two earrings!” exclaimed Sinang, looking at her father and instinctively covering
+the arm next to her mother.
+</p>
+<p>“Something more ancient yet, something Roman,” said Capitan Basilio with a wink.
+</p>
+<p>The pious Sister Penchang thought that with such a gift the Virgin of Antipolo would
+be softened and grant her her most vehement desire: for some time she had begged for
+a wonderful miracle to which her name would be attached, so that her name might be
+immortalized on earth and she then ascend into heaven, like the Capitana Ines of the
+curates. She inquired the price and Simoun asked three thousand pesos, which made
+the good woman cross herself—<i>’Susmariosep!</i>
+</p>
+<p>Simoun now exposed the third tray, which was filled with watches, cigar- and match-cases
+decorated with the rarest enamels, reliquaries set with diamonds and containing the
+most elegant miniatures.
+</p>
+<p>The fourth tray, containing loose gems, stirred a murmur of admiration. Sinang again
+clucked with her tongue, her mother again pinched her, although at the same time herself
+emitting a <i>’Susmaría</i> of wonder.
+</p>
+<p>No one there had ever before seen so much wealth. In that chest lined with dark-blue
+velvet, arranged in trays, were the wonders of the <i>Arabian Nights,</i> the dreams of Oriental fantasies. Diamonds as large as peas glittered there, throwing
+out attractive rays as if they were about to melt or burn with all the hues of the
+spectrum; emeralds from Peru, of varied forms and shapes; rubies from India, red as
+drops of blood; sapphires from Ceylon, blue and white; turquoises from Persia; Oriental
+pearls, some rosy, some lead-colored, others black. Those who have at night seen a
+great rocket burst in the azure darkness of the sky into thousands of colored lights,
+so bright that they make the eternal stars look dim, can imagine the aspect the tray
+presented.
+</p>
+<p>As if to increase the admiration of the beholders, Simoun <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1519">[<a href="#xd32e1519">80</a>]</span>took the stones out with his tapering brown fingers, gloating over their crystalline
+hardness, their luminous stream, as they poured from his hands like drops of water
+reflecting the tints of the rainbow. The reflections from so many facets, the thought
+of their great value, fascinated the gaze of every one.
+</p>
+<p>Cabesang Tales, who had approached out of curiosity, closed his eyes and drew back
+hurriedly, as if to drive away an evil thought. Such great riches were an insult to
+his misfortunes; that man had come there to make an exhibition of his immense wealth
+on the very day that he, Tales, for lack of money, for lack of protectors, had to
+abandon the house raised by his own hands.
+</p>
+<p>“Here you have two black diamonds, among the largest in existence,” explained the
+jeweler. “They’re very difficult to cut because they’re the very hardest. This somewhat
+rosy stone is also a diamond, as is this green one that many take for an emerald.
+Quiroga the Chinaman offered me six thousand pesos for it in order to present it to
+a very influential lady, and yet it is not the green ones that are the most valuable,
+but these blue ones.”
+</p>
+<p>He selected three stones of no great size, but thick and well-cut, of a delicate azure
+tint.
+</p>
+<p>“For all that they are smaller than the green,” he continued, “they cost twice as
+much. Look at this one, the smallest of all, weighing not more than two carats, which
+cost me twenty thousand pesos and which I won’t sell for less than thirty. I had to
+make a special trip to buy it. This other one, from the mines of Golconda, weighs
+three and a half carats and is worth over seventy thousand. The Viceroy of India,
+in a letter I received the day before yesterday, offers me twelve thousand pounds
+sterling for it.”
+</p>
+<p>Before such great wealth, all under the power of that man who talked so unaffectedly,
+the spectators felt a kind of awe mingled with dread. Sinang clucked several times
+and her mother did not pinch her, perhaps because she too was overcome, or perhaps
+because she reflected that a <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1527">[<a href="#xd32e1527">81</a>]</span>jeweler like Simoun was not going to try to gain five pesos more or less as a result
+of an exclamation more or less indiscreet. All gazed at the gems, but no one showed
+any desire to handle them, they were so awe-inspiring. Curiosity was blunted by wonder.
+Cabesang Tales stared out into the field, thinking that with a single diamond, perhaps
+the very smallest there, he could recover his daughter, keep his house, and perhaps
+rent another farm. Could it be that those gems were worth more than a man’s home,
+the safety of a maiden, the peace of an old man in his declining days?
+</p>
+<p>As if he guessed the thought, Simoun remarked to those about him: “Look here—with
+one of these little blue stones, which appear so innocent and inoffensive, pure as
+sparks scattered over the arch of heaven, with one of these, seasonably presented,
+a man was able to have his enemy deported, the father of a family, as a disturber
+of the peace; and with this other little one like it, red as one’s heart-blood, as
+the feeling of revenge, and bright as an orphan’s tears, he was restored to liberty,
+the man was returned to his home, the father to his children, the husband to the wife,
+and a whole family saved from a wretched future.”
+</p>
+<p>He slapped the chest and went on in a loud tone in bad Tagalog: “Here I have, as in
+a medicine-chest, life and death, poison and balm, and with this handful I can drive
+to tears all the inhabitants of the Philippines!”
+</p>
+<p>The listeners gazed at him awe-struck, knowing him to be right. In his voice there
+could be detected a strange ring, while sinister flashes seemed to issue from behind
+the blue goggles.
+</p>
+<p>Then as if to relieve the strain of the impression made by the gems on such simple
+folk, he lifted up the tray and exposed at the bottom the <i>sanctum sanctorum</i>. Cases of Russian leather, separated by layers of cotton, covered a bottom lined
+with gray velvet. All expected wonders, and Sinang’s husband thought he saw carbuncles,
+gems that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1537">[<a href="#xd32e1537">82</a>]</span>flashed fire and shone in the midst of the shadows. Capitan Basilio was on the threshold
+of immortality: he was going to behold something real, something beyond his dreams.
+</p>
+<p>“This was a necklace of Cleopatra’s,” said Simoun, taking out carefully a flat case
+in the shape of a half-moon. “It’s a jewel that can’t be appraised, an object for
+a museum, only for a rich government.”
+</p>
+<p>It was a necklace fashioned of bits of gold representing little idols among green
+and blue beetles, with a vulture’s head made from a single piece of rare jasper at
+the center between two extended wings—the symbol and decoration of Egyptian queens.
+</p>
+<p>Sinang turned up her nose and made a grimace of childish depreciation, while Capitan
+Basilio, with all his love for antiquity, could not restrain an exclamation of disappointment.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s a magnificent jewel, well-preserved, almost two thousand years old.”
+</p>
+<p>“Pshaw!” Sinang made haste to exclaim, to prevent her father’s falling into temptation.
+</p>
+<p>“Fool!” he chided her, after overcoming his first disappointment. “How do you know
+but that to this necklace is due the present condition of the world? With this Cleopatra
+may have captivated Caesar, Mark Antony! This has heard the burning declarations of
+love from the greatest warriors of their time, it has listened to speeches in the
+purest and most elegant Latin, and yet you would want to wear it!”
+</p>
+<p>“I? I wouldn’t give three pesos for it.”
+</p>
+<p>“You could give twenty, silly,” said Capitana Tika in a judicial tone. “The gold is
+good and melted down would serve for other jewelry.”
+</p>
+<p>“This is a ring that must have belonged to Sulla,” continued Simoun, exhibiting a
+heavy ring of solid gold with a seal on it.
+</p>
+<p>“With that he must have signed the death-wrarrants during his dictatorship!” exclaimed
+Capitan Basilio, pale <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1551">[<a href="#xd32e1551">83</a>]</span>with emotion. He examined it and tried to decipher the seal, but though he turned
+it over and over he did not understand paleography, so he could not read it.
+</p>
+<p>“What a finger Sulla had!” he observed finally. “This would fit two of ours—as I’ve
+said, we’re degenerating!”
+</p>
+<p>“I still have many other jewels—”
+</p>
+<p>“If they’re all that kind, never mind!” interrupted Sinang. “I think I prefer the
+modern.”
+</p>
+<p>Each one selected some piece of jewelry, one a ring, another a watch, another a locket.
+Capitana Tika bought a reliquary that contained a fragment of the stone on which Our
+Saviour rested at his third fall; Sinang a pair of earrings; and Capitan Basilio the
+watch-chain for the alferez, the lady’s earrings for the curate, and other gifts.
+The families from the town of Tiani, not to be outdone by those of San Diego, in like
+manner emptied their purses.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun bought or exchanged old jewelry, brought there by economical mothers, to whom
+it was no longer of use.
+</p>
+<p>“You, haven’t you something to sell?” he asked Cabesang Tales, noticing the latter
+watching the sales and exchanges with covetous eyes, but the reply was that all his
+daughter’s jewels had been sold, nothing of value remained.
+</p>
+<p>“What about Maria Clara’s locket?” inquired Sinang.
+</p>
+<p>“True!” the man exclaimed, and his eyes blazed for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s a locket set with diamonds and emeralds,” Sinang told the jeweler. “My old friend
+wore it before she became a nun.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun said nothing, but anxiously watched Cabesang Tales, who, after opening several
+boxes, found the locket. He examined it carefully, opening and shutting it repeatedly.
+It was the same locket that Maria Clara had worn during the fiesta in San Diego and
+which she had in a moment of compassion given to a leper.
+</p>
+<p>“I like the design,” said Simoun. “How much do you want for it?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1566">[<a href="#xd32e1566">84</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Cabesang Tales scratched his head in perplexity, then his ear, then looked at the
+women.
+</p>
+<p>“I’ve taken a fancy to this locket,” Simoun went on. “Will you take a hundred, five
+hundred pesos? Do you want to exchange it for something else? Take your choice here!”
+</p>
+<p>Tales stared foolishly at Simoun, as if in doubt of what he heard. “Five hundred pesos?”
+he murmured.
+</p>
+<p>“Five hundred,” repeated the jeweler in a voice shaking with emotion.
+</p>
+<p>Cabesang Tales took the locket and made several turns about the room, with his heart
+beating violently and his hands trembling. Dared he ask more? That locket could save
+him, this was an excellent opportunity, such as might not again present itself.
+</p>
+<p>The women winked at him to encourage him to make the sale, excepting Penchang, who,
+fearing that Juli would be ransomed, observed piously: “I would keep it as a relic.
+Those who have seen Maria Clara in the nunnery say she has got so thin and weak that
+she can scarcely talk and it’s thought that she’ll die a saint. Padre Salvi speaks
+very highly of her and he’s her confessor. That’s why Juli didn’t want ito give it
+up, but rather preferred to pawn herself.”
+</p>
+<p>This speech had its effect—the thought of his daughter restrained Tales. “If you will
+allow me,” he said, “I’ll go to the town to consult my daughter. I’ll be back before
+night.”
+</p>
+<p>This was agreed upon and Tales set out at once. But when he found himself outside
+of the village, he made out at a distance, on a path, that entered the woods, the
+friar-administrator and a man whom he recognized as the usurper of his land. A husband
+seeing his wife enter a private room with another man could not feel more wrath or
+jealousy than Cabesang Tales experienced when he saw them moving over his fields,
+the fields cleared by him, which he had thought to leave to his children. It seemed
+to him that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1576">[<a href="#xd32e1576">85</a>]</span>they were mocking him, laughing at his powerlessness. There flashed into his memory
+what he had said about never giving up his fields except to him who irrigated them
+with his own blood and buried in them his wife and daughter.
+</p>
+<p>He stopped, rubbed his hand over his forehead, and shut his eyes. When he again opened
+them, he saw that the man had turned to laugh and that the friar had caught his sides
+as though to save himself from bursting with merriment, then he saw them point toward
+his house and laugh again.
+</p>
+<p>A buzz sounded in his ears, he felt the crack of a whip around his chest, the red
+mist reappeared before his eyes, he again saw the corpses of his wife and daughter,
+and beside them the usurper with the friar laughing and holding his sides. Forgetting
+everything else, he turned aside into the path they had taken, the one leading to
+his fields.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun waited in vain for Cabesang Tales to return that night. But the next morning
+when he arose he noticed that the leather holster of his revolver was empty. Opening
+it he found inside a scrap of paper wrapped around the locket set with emeralds and
+diamonds, with these few lines written on it in Tagalog:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">“Pardon, sir, that in my own house I relieve you of what belongs to you, but necessity
+drives me to it. In exchange for your revolver I leave the locket you desired so much.
+I need the weapon, for I am going out to join the tulisanes.
+</p>
+<p>“I advise you not to keep on your present road, because if you fall into our power,
+not then being my guest, we will require of you a large ransom.
+</p>
+<p class="xd32e144">Telesforo Juan de Dios.”</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>“At last I’ve found my man!” muttered Simoun with a deep breath. “He’s somewhat scrupulous,
+but so much the better—he’ll keep his promises.”
+</p>
+<p>He then ordered a servant to go by boat over the lake to Los Baños with the larger
+chest and await him there. He would go on overland, taking the smaller chest, the
+one <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1592">[<a href="#xd32e1592">86</a>]</span>containing his famous jewels. The arrival of four civil-guards completed his good
+humor. They came to arrest Cabesang Tales and not finding him took Tandang Selo away
+instead.
+</p>
+<p>Three murders had been committed during the night. The friar-administrator and the
+new tenant of Cabesang Tales’ land had been found dead, with their heads split open
+and their mouths full of earth, on the border of the fields. In the town the wife
+of the usurper was found dead at dawn, her mouth also filled with earth and her throat
+cut, with a fragment of paper beside her, on which was the name <i>Tales</i>, written in blood as though traced by a finger.
+</p>
+<p>Calm yourselves, peaceful inhabitants of Kalamba! None of you are named Tales, none
+of you have committed any crime! You are called Luis Habaña, Matías Belarmino, Nicasio
+Eigasani, Cayetano de Jesús, Mateo Elejorde, Leandro Lopez, Antonino Lopez, Silvestre
+Ubaldo, Manuel Hidalgo, Paciano Mercado, your name is the whole village of Kalamba.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1600src" href="#xd32e1600">1</a> You cleared your fields, on them you have spent the labor of your whole lives, your
+savings, your vigils and privations, and you have been despoiled of them, driven from
+your homes, with the rest forbidden to show you hospitality! Not content with outraging
+justice, they<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1603src" href="#xd32e1603">2</a> have trampled upon the sacred traditions of your country! You have served Spain and
+the King, and when in their name you have asked for justice, you were banished without
+trial, torn from your wives’ arms and your children’s caresses! Any one of you has
+suffered more than Cabesang Tales, and yet none, not one of you, has received justice!
+Neither pity nor humanity has been shown you—you have been persecuted beyond <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1606">[<a href="#xd32e1606">87</a>]</span>the tomb, as was Mariano Herbosa!<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1608src" href="#xd32e1608">3</a> Weep or laugh, there in those lonely isles where you wander vaguely, uncertain of
+the future! Spain, the generous Spain, is watching over you, and sooner or later you
+will have justice!
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1611">[<a href="#xd32e1611">88</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1600">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1600src">1</a></span> Friends of the author, who suffered in Weyler’s expedition, mentioned below.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1600src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1603">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1603src">2</a></span> The Dominican corporation, at whose instigation Captain-General Valeriano Weyler sent
+a battery of artillery to Kalamba to destroy the property of tenants who were contesting
+in the courts the friars’ titles to land there. The author’s family were the largest
+sufferers.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1603src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1608">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1608src">3</a></span> A relative of the author, whose body was dragged from the tomb and thrown to the dogs,
+on the pretext that he had died without receiving final absolution.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1608src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e313">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Los Baños</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">His Excellency, the Captain-General and Governor of the Philippine Islands, had been
+hunting in Bosoboso. But as he had to be accompanied by a band of music,—since such
+an exalted personage was not to be esteemed less than the wooden images carried in
+the processions,—and as devotion to the divine art of St. Cecilia has not yet been
+popularized among the deer and wild boars of Bosoboso, his Excellency, with the band
+of music and train of friars, soldiers, and clerks, had not been able to catch a single
+rat or a solitary bird.
+</p>
+<p>The provincial authorities foresaw dismissals and transfers, the poor gobernadorcillos
+and cabezas de barangay were restless and sleepless, fearing that the mighty hunter
+in his wrath might have a notion to make up with their persons for the lack of submissiveness
+on the part of the beasts of the forest, as had been done years before by an alcalde
+who had traveled on the shoulders of impressed porters because he found no horses
+gentle enough to guarantee his safety. There was not lacking an evil rumor that his
+Excellency had decided to take some action, since in this he saw the first symptoms
+of a rebellion which should be strangled in its infancy, that a fruitless hunt hurt
+the prestige of the Spanish name, that he already had his eye on a wretch to be dressed
+up as a deer, when his Excellency, with clemency that Ben-Zayb lacked words to extol
+sufficiently, dispelled all the fears by declaring that it pained him to sacrifice
+to his pleasure the beasts of the forest.
+</p>
+<p>But to tell the truth, his Excellency was secretly very well satisfied, for what would
+have happened had he missed <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1620">[<a href="#xd32e1620">89</a>]</span>a shot at a deer, one of those not familiar with political etiquette? What would the
+prestige of the sovereign power have come to then? A Captain-General of the Philippines
+missing a shot, like a raw hunter? What would have been said by the Indians, among
+whom there were some fair huntsmen? The integrity of the fatherland would have been
+endangered.
+</p>
+<p>So it was that his Excellency, with a sheepish smile, and posing as a disappointed
+hunter, ordered an immediate return to Los Baños. During the journey he related with
+an indifferent air his hunting exploits in this or that forest of the Peninsula, adopting
+a tone somewhat depreciative, as suited the case, toward hunting in Filipinas. The
+bath in Dampalit, the hot springs on the shore of the lake, card-games in the palace,
+with an occasional excursion to some neighboring waterfall, or the lake infested with
+caymans, offered more attractions and fewer risks to the integrity of the fatherland.
+</p>
+<p>Thus on one of the last days of December, his Excellency found himself in the sala,
+taking a hand at cards while he awaited the breakfast hour. He had come from the bath,
+with the usual glass of coconut-milk and its soft meat, so he was in the best of humors
+for granting favors and privileges. His good humor was increased by his winning a
+good many hands, for Padre Irene and Padre Sibyla, with whom he was playing, were
+exercising all their skill in secretly trying to lose, to the great irritation of
+Padre Camorra, who on account of his late arrival only that morning was not informed
+as to the game they were playing on the General. The friar-artilleryman was playing
+in good faith and with great care, so he turned red and bit his lip every time Padre
+Sibyla seemed inattentive or blundered, but he dared not say a word by reason of the
+respect he felt for the Dominican. In exchange he took his revenge out on Padre Irene,
+whom he looked upon as a base fawner and despised for his coarseness. Padre Sibyla
+let him scold, while the humbler Padre Irene tried to excuse himself <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1625">[<a href="#xd32e1625">90</a>]</span>by rubbing his long nose. His Excellency was enjoying it and took advantage, like
+the good tactician that the Canon hinted he was, of all the mistakes of his opponents.
+Padre Camorra was ignorant of the fact that across the table they were playing for
+the intellectual development of the Filipinos, the instruction in Castilian, but had
+he known it he would doubtless have joyfully entered into that <i>game</i>.
+</p>
+<p>The open balcony admitted the fresh, pure breeze and revealed the lake, whose waters
+murmured sweetly around the base of the edifice, as if rendering homage. On the right,
+at a distance, appeared Talim Island, a deep blue in the midst of the lake, while
+almost in front lay the green and deserted islet of Kalamba, in the shape of a half-moon.
+To the left the picturesque shores were fringed with clumps of bamboo, then a hill
+overlooking the lake, with wide ricefields beyond, then red roofs amid the deep green
+of the trees,—the town of Kalamba,—and beyond the shore-line fading into the distance,
+with the horizon at the back closing down over the water, giving the lake the appearance
+of a sea and justifying the name the Indians give it of <i>dagat na tabang</i>, or fresh-water sea.
+</p>
+<p>At the end of the sala, seated before a table covered with documents, was the secretary.
+His Excellency was a great worker and did not like to lose time, so he attended to
+business in the intervals of the game or while dealing the cards. Meanwhile, the bored
+secretary yawned and despaired. That morning he had worked, as usual, over transfers,
+suspensions of employees, deportations, pardons, and the like, but had not yet touched
+the great question that had stirred so much interest—the petition of the students
+requesting permission to establish an academy of Castilian. Pacing from one end of
+the room to the other and conversing animatedly but in low tones were to be seen Don
+Custodio, a high official, and a friar named Padre Fernandez, who hung his head with
+an air either of meditation or annoyance. From an adjoining room issued the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1635">[<a href="#xd32e1635">91</a>]</span>click of balls striking together and bursts of laughter, amid which might be heard
+the sharp, dry voice of Simoun, who was playing billiards with Ben-Zayb.
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly Padre Camorra arose. “The devil with this game, <i>puñales!</i>” he exclaimed, throwing his cards at Padre Irene’s head. “<i>Puñales</i>, that trick, if not all the others, was assured and we lost by default! <i>Puñales!</i> The devil with this game!”
+</p>
+<p>He explained the situation angrily to all the occupants of the sala, addressing himself
+especially to the three walking about, as if he had selected them for judges. The
+general played thus, he replied with such a card, Padre Irene had a certain card;
+he led, and then that fool of a Padre Irene didn’t play his card! Padre Irene was
+giving the game away! It was a devil of a way to play! His mother’s son had not come
+here to rack his brains for nothing and lose his money!
+</p>
+<p>Then he added, turning very red, “If the booby thinks my money grows on every bush!…
+On top of the fact that my Indians are beginning to haggle over payments!” Fuming,
+and disregarding the excuses of Padre Irene, who tried to explain while he rubbed
+the tip of his beak in order to conceal his sly smile, he went into the billiardroom.
+</p>
+<p>“Padre Fernandez, would you like to take a hand?” asked Fray Sibyla.
+</p>
+<p>“I’m a very poor player,” replied the friar with a grimace.
+</p>
+<p>“Then get Simoun,” said the General. “Eh, Simoun! Eh, Mister, won’t you try a hand?”
+</p>
+<p>“What is your disposition concerning the arms for sporting purposes?” asked the secretary,
+taking advantage of the pause.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun thrust his head through the doorway.
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t you want to take Padre Camorra’s place, Señor Sindbad?” inquired Padre Irene.
+“You can bet diamonds instead of chips.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1655">[<a href="#xd32e1655">92</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“I don’t care if I do,” replied Simoun, advancing while he brushed the chalk from
+his hands. “What will you bet?”
+</p>
+<p>“What should we bet?” returned Padre Sibyla. “The General can bet what he likes, but
+we priests, clerics—”
+</p>
+<p>“Bah!” interrupted Simoun ironically. “You and Padre Irene can pay with deeds of charity,
+prayers, and virtues, eh?”
+</p>
+<p>“You know that the virtues a person may possess,” gravely argued Padre Sibyla, “are
+not like the diamonds that may pass from hand to hand, to be sold and resold. They
+are inherent in the being, they are essential attributes of the subject—”
+</p>
+<p>“I’ll be satisfied then if you pay me with promises,” replied Simoun jestingly. “You,
+Padre Sibyla, instead of paying me five something or other in money, will say, for
+example: for five days I renounce poverty, humility, and obedience. You, Padre Irene:
+I renounce chastity, liberality, and so on. Those are small matters, and I’m putting
+up my diamonds.”
+</p>
+<p>“What a peculiar man this Simoun is, what notions he has!” exclaimed Padre Irene with
+a smile.
+</p>
+<p>“And <i>he</i>,” continued Simoun, slapping his Excellency familiarly on the shoulder, “he will
+pay me with an order for five days in prison, or five months, or an order of deportation
+made out in blank, or let us say a summary execution by the Civil Guard while my man
+is being conducted from one town to another.”
+</p>
+<p>This was a strange proposition, so the three who had been pacing about gathered around.
+</p>
+<p>“But, Señor Simoun,” asked the high official, “what good will you get out of winning
+promises of virtues, or lives and deportations and summary executions?”
+</p>
+<p>“A great deal! I’m tired of hearing virtues talked about and would like to have the
+whole of them, all there are in the world, tied up in a sack, in order to throw them
+into the sea, even though I had to use my diamonds for sinkers.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1671">[<a href="#xd32e1671">93</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“What an idea!” exclaimed Padre Irene with another smile. “And the deportations and
+executions, what of them?”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, to clean the country and destroy every evil seed.”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out! You’re still sore at the tulisanes. But you were lucky that they didn’t
+demand a larger ransom or keep all your jewels. Man, don’t be ungrateful!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun proceeded to relate how he had been intercepted by a band of tulisanes, who,
+after entertaining him for a day, had let him go on his way without exacting other
+ransom than his two fine revolvers and the two boxes of cartridges he carried with
+him. He added that the tulisanes had charged him with many kind regards for his Excellency,
+the Captain-General.
+</p>
+<p>As a result of this, and as Simoun reported that the tulisanes were well provided
+with shotguns, rifles, and revolvers, and against such persons one man alone, no matter
+how well armed, could not defend himself, his Excellency, to prevent the tulisanes
+from getting weapons in the future, was about to dictate a new decree forbidding the
+introduction of sporting arms.
+</p>
+<p>“On the contrary, on the contrary!” protested Simoun, “for me the tulisanes are the
+most respectable men in the country, they’re the only ones who earn their living honestly.
+Suppose I had fallen into the hands—well, of you yourselves, for example, would you
+have let me escape without taking half of my jewels, at least?”
+</p>
+<p>Don Custodio was on the point of protesting; that Simoun was really a rude American
+mulatto taking advantage of his friendship with the Captain-General to insult Padre
+Irene, although it may be true also that Padre Irene would hardly have set him free
+for so little.
+</p>
+<p>“The evil is not,” went on Simoun, “in that there are tulisanes in the mountains and
+uninhabited parts—the evil lies in the tulisanes in the towns and cities.”
+</p>
+<p>“Like yourself,” put in the Canon with a smile.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1683">[<a href="#xd32e1683">94</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Yes, like myself, like all of us! Let’s be frank, for no Indian is listening to us
+here,” continued the jeweler. “The evil is that we’re not all openly declared tulisanes.
+When that happens and we all take to the woods, on that day the country will be saved,
+on that day will rise a new social order which will take care of itself, and his Excellency
+will be able to play his game in peace, without the necessity of having his attention
+diverted by his secretary.”
+</p>
+<p>The person mentioned at that moment yawned, extending his folded arms above his head
+and stretching his crossed legs under the table as far as possible, upon noticing
+which all laughed. His Excellency wished to change the course of the conversation,
+so, throwing down the cards he had been shuffling, he said half seriously: “Come,
+come, enough of jokes and cards! Let’s get to work, to work in earnest, since we still
+have a half-hour before breakfast. Are there many matters to be got through with?”
+</p>
+<p>All now gave their attention. That was the day for joining battle over the question
+of instruction in Castilian, for which purpose Padre Sibyla and Padre Irene had been
+there several days. It was known that the former, as Vice-Rector, was opposed to the
+project and that the latter supported it, and his activity was in turn supported by
+the Countess.
+</p>
+<p>“What is there, what is there?” asked his Excellency impatiently.
+</p>
+<p>“The petition about sporting arms,” replied the secretary with a stifled yawn.
+</p>
+<p>“Forbidden!”
+</p>
+<p>“Pardon, General,” said the high official gravely, “your Excellency will permit me
+to invite your attention to the fact that the use of sporting arms is permitted in
+all the countries of the world.”
+</p>
+<p>The General shrugged his shoulders and remarked dryly, “We are not imitating any nation
+in the world.”
+</p>
+<p>Between his Excellency and the high official there was always a difference of opinion,
+so it was sufficient that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1695">[<a href="#xd32e1695">95</a>]</span>the latter offer any suggestion whatsoever to have the former remain stubborn.
+</p>
+<p>The high official tried another tack. “Sporting arms can harm only rats and chickens.
+They’ll say—”
+</p>
+<p>“But are we chickens?” interrupted the General, again shrugging his shoulders. “Am
+I? I’ve demonstrated that I’m not.”
+</p>
+<p>“But there’s another thing,” observed the secretary. “Four months ago, when the possession
+of arms was prohibited, the foreign importers were assured that sporting arms would
+be admitted.”
+</p>
+<p>His Excellency knitted his brows.
+</p>
+<p>“That can be arranged,” suggested Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“How?”
+</p>
+<p>“Very simply. Sporting arms nearly all have a caliber of six millimeters, at least
+those now in the market. Authorize only the sale of those that haven’t these six millimeters.”
+</p>
+<p>All approved this idea of Simoun’s, except the high official, who muttered into Padre
+Fernandez’s ear that this was not dignified, nor was it the way to govern.
+</p>
+<p>“The schoolmaster of Tiani,” proceeded the secretary, shuffling some papers about,
+“asks for a better location for—”
+</p>
+<p>“What better location can he want than the storehouse that he has all to himself?”
+interrupted Padre Camorra, who had returned, having forgotten about the card-game.
+</p>
+<p>“He says that it’s roofless,” replied the secretary, “and that having purchased out
+of his own pocket some maps and pictures, he doesn’t want to expose them to the weather.”
+</p>
+<p>“But I haven’t anything to do with that,” muttered his Excellency. “He should address
+the head secretary,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1711src" href="#xd32e1711">1</a> the governor of the province, or the nuncio.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1714">[<a href="#xd32e1714">96</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“I want to tell you,” declared Padre Camorra, “that this little schoolmaster is a
+discontented filibuster. Just imagine—the heretic teaches that corpses rot just the
+same, whether buried with great pomp or without any! Some day I’m going to punch him!”
+Here he doubled up his fists.
+</p>
+<p>“To tell the truth,” observed Padre Sibyla, as if speaking only to Padre Irene, “he
+who wishes to teach, teaches everywhere, in the open air. Socrates taught in the public
+streets, Plato in the gardens of the Academy, even Christ among the mountains and
+lakes.”
+</p>
+<p>“I’ve heard several complaints against this schoolmaster,” said his Excellency, exchanging
+a glance with Simoun. “I think the best thing would be to suspend him.”
+</p>
+<p>“Suspended!” repeated the secretary.
+</p>
+<p>The luck of that unfortunate, who had asked for help and received his dismissal, pained
+the high official and he tried to do something for him.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s certain,” he insinuated rather timidly, “that education is not at all well provided
+for—”
+</p>
+<p>“I’ve already decreed large sums for the purchase of supplies,” exclaimed his Excellency
+haughtily, as if to say, “I’ve done more than I ought to have done.”
+</p>
+<p>“But since suitable locations are lacking, the supplies purchased get ruined.”
+</p>
+<p>“Everything can’t be done at once,” said his Excellency dryly. “The schoolmasters
+here are doing wrong in asking for buildings when those in Spain starve to death.
+It’s great presumption to be better off here than in the mother country itself!”
+</p>
+<p>“Filibusterism—”
+</p>
+<p>“Before everything the fatherland! Before everything else we are Spaniards!” added
+Ben-Zayb, his eyes glowing with patriotism, but he blushed somewhat when he noticed
+that he was speaking alone.
+</p>
+<p>“In the future,” decided the General, “all who complain will be suspended.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1729">[<a href="#xd32e1729">97</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“If my project were accepted—” Don Custodio ventured to remark, as if talking to himself.
+</p>
+<p>“For the construction of schoolhouses?”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s simple, practical, economical, and, like all my projects, derived from long
+experience and knowledge of the country. The towns would have schools without costing
+the government a cuarto.”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s easy,” observed the secretary sarcastically. “Compel the towns to construct
+them at their own expense,” whereupon all laughed.
+</p>
+<p>“No, sir! No, sir!” cried the exasperated Don Custodio, turning very red. “The buildings
+are already constructed and only wait to be utilized. Hygienic, unsurpassable, spacious—”
+</p>
+<p>The friars looked at one another uneasily. Would Don Custodio propose that the churches
+and conventos be converted into schoolhouses?
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s hear it,” said the General with a frown.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, General, it’s very simple,” replied Don Custodio, drawing himself up and assuming
+his hollow voice of ceremony. “The schools are open only on week-days and the cockpits
+on holidays. Then convert these into schoolhouses, at least during the week.”
+</p>
+<p>“Man, man, man!”
+</p>
+<p>“What a lovely idea!”
+</p>
+<p>“What’s the matter with you, Don Custodio?”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s a grand suggestion!”
+</p>
+<p>“That beats them all!”
+</p>
+<p>“But, gentlemen,” cried Don Custodio, in answer to so many exclamations, “let’s be
+practical—what places are more suitable than the cockpits? They’re large, well constructed,
+and under a curse for the use to which they are put during the week-days. From a moral
+standpoint my project would be acceptable, by serving as a kind of expiation and weekly
+purification of the temple of chance, as we might say.”
+</p>
+<p>“But the fact remains that sometimes there are cockfights <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1747">[<a href="#xd32e1747">98</a>]</span>during the week,” objected Padre Camorra, “and it wouldn’t be right when the contractors
+of the cockpits pay the government—”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1749src" href="#xd32e1749">2</a>
+</p>
+<p>“Well, on those days close the school!”
+</p>
+<p>“Man, man!” exclaimed the scandalized Captain-General. “Such an outrage shall never
+be perpetrated while I govern! To close the schools in order to gamble! Man, man,
+I’ll resign first!” His Excellency was really horrified.
+</p>
+<p>“But, General, it’s better to close them for a few days than for months.”
+</p>
+<p>“It would be immoral,” observed Padre Irene, more indignant even than his Excellency.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s more immoral that vice has good buildings and learning none. Let’s be practical,
+gentlemen, and not be carried away by sentiment. In politics there’s nothing worse
+than sentiment. While from humane considerations we forbid the cultivation of opium
+in our colonies, we tolerate the smoking of it, and the result is that we do not combat
+the vice but impoverish ourselves.”
+</p>
+<p>“But remember that it yields to the government, without any effort, more than four
+hundred and fifty thousand pesos,” objected Padre Irene, who was getting more and
+more on the governmental side.
+</p>
+<p>“Enough, enough, enough!” exclaimed his Excellency, to end the discussion. “I have
+my own plans in this regard and will devote special attention to the matter of public
+instruction. Is there anything else?”
+</p>
+<p>The secretary looked uneasily toward Padre Sibyla and Padre Irene. The cat was about
+to come out of the bag. Both prepared themselves.
+</p>
+<p>“The petition of the students requesting authorization to open an academy of Castilian,”
+answered the secretary.
+</p>
+<p>A general movement was noted among those in the room. After glancing at one another
+they fixed their eyes on the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1764">[<a href="#xd32e1764">99</a>]</span>General to learn what his disposition would be. For six months the petition had lain
+there awaiting a decision and had become converted into a kind of <i>casus belli</i> in certain circles. His Excellency had lowered his eyes, as if to keep his thoughts
+from being read.
+</p>
+<p>The silence became embarrassing, as the General understood, so he asked the high official,
+“What do you think?”
+</p>
+<p>“What should I think, General?” responded the person addressed, with a shrug of his
+shoulders and a bitter smile. “What should I think but that the petition is just,
+very just, and that I am surprised that six months should have been taken to consider
+it.”
+</p>
+<p>“The fact is that it involves other considerations,” said Padre Sibyla coldly, as
+he half closed his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>The high official again shrugged his shoulders, like one who did not comprehend what
+those considerations could be.
+</p>
+<p>“Besides the intemperateness of the demand,” went on the Dominican, “besides the fact
+that it is in the nature of an infringement on our prerogatives—”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Sibyla dared not go on, but looked at Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“The petition has a somewhat suspicious character,” corroborated that individual,
+exchanging a look with the Dominican, who winked several times.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Irene noticed these things and realized that his cause was almost lost—Simoun
+was against him.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s a peaceful rebellion, a revolution on stamped paper,” added Padre Sibyla.
+</p>
+<p>“Revolution? Rebellion?” inquired the high official, staring from one to the other
+as if he did not understand what they could mean.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s headed by some young men charged with being too radical and too much interested
+in reforms, not to use stronger terms,” remarked the secretary, with a look at the
+Dominican. “Among them is a certain Isagani, a poorly balanced head, nephew of a native
+priest—”
+</p>
+<p>“He’s a pupil of mine,” put in Padre Fernandez, “and I’m much pleased with him.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1782">[<a href="#xd32e1782">100</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“<i>Puñales,</i> I like your taste!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “On the steamer we nearly had a fight.
+He’s so insolent that when I gave him a shove aside he returned it.”
+</p>
+<p>“There’s also one Makaragui or Makarai—”
+</p>
+<p>“Makaraig,” Padre Irene joined in. “A very pleasant and agreeable young man.”
+</p>
+<p>Then he murmured into the General’s ear, “He’s the one I’ve talked to you about, he’s
+very rich. The Countess recommends him strongly.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah!”
+</p>
+<p>“A medical student, one Basilio—”
+</p>
+<p>“Of that Basilio, I’ll say nothing,” observed Padre Irene, raising his hands and opening
+them, as if to say <i lang="la">Dominus vobiscum</i>. “He’s too deep for me. I’ve never succeeded in fathoming what he wants or what he
+is thinking about. It’s a pity that Padre Salvi isn’t present to tell us something
+about his antecedents. I believe that I’ve heard that when a boy he got into trouble
+with the Civil Guard. His father was killed in—I don’t remember what disturbance.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun smiled faintly, silently, showing his sharp white teeth.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha! Aha!” said his Excellency nodding. “That’s the kind we have! Make a note of
+that name.”
+</p>
+<p>“But, General,” objected the high official, seeing that the matter was taking a bad
+turn, “up to now nothing positive is known against these young men. Their position
+is a very just one, and we have no right to deny it on the ground of mere conjectures.
+My opinion is that the government, by exhibiting confidence in the people and in its
+own stability, should grant what is asked, then it could freely revoke the permission
+when it saw that its kindness was being abused—reasons and pretexts would not be wanting,
+we can watch them. Why cause disaffection among some young men, who later on may feel
+resentment, when what they ask is commanded by royal decrees?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1802">[<a href="#xd32e1802">101</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Padre Irene, Don Custodio, and Padre Fernandez nodded in agreement.
+</p>
+<p>“But the Indians must not understand Castilian, you know,” cried Padre Camorra. “They
+mustn’t learn it, for then they’ll enter into arguments with us, and the Indians must
+not argue, but obey and pay. They mustn’t try to interpret the meaning of the laws
+and the books, they’re so tricky and pettifogish! Just as soon as they learn Castilian
+they become enemies of God and of Spain. Just read the <i lang="tl">Tandang Basio Macunat</i>—that’s a book! It tells truths like this!” And he held up his clenched fists.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Sibyla rubbed his hand over his tonsure in sign of impatience. “One word,” he
+began in the most conciliatory tone, though fuming with irritation, “here we’re not
+dealing with the instruction in Castilian alone. Here there is an underhand fight
+between the students and the University of Santo Tomas. If the students win this,
+our prestige will be trampled in the dirt, they will say that they’ve beaten us and
+will exult accordingly. Then, good-by to moral strength, good-by to everything! The
+first dike broken down, who will restrain this youth? With our fall we do no more
+than signal your own. After us, the government!”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puñales</i>, that’s not so!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “We’ll see first who has the biggest fists!”
+</p>
+<p>At this point Padre Fernandez, who thus far in the discussion had merely contented
+himself with smiling, began to talk. All gave him their attention, for they knew him
+to be a thoughtful man.
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t take it ill of me, Padre Sibyla, if I differ from your view of the affair,
+but it’s my peculiar fate to be almost always in opposition to my brethren. I say,
+then, that we ought not to be so pessimistic. The instruction in Castilian can be
+allowed without any risk whatever, and in order that it may not appear to be a defeat
+of the University, we Dominicans ought to put forth our efforts and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1818">[<a href="#xd32e1818">102</a>]</span>be the first to rejoice over it—that should be our policy. To what end are we to be
+engaged in an everlasting struggle with the people, when after all we are the few
+and they are the many, when we need them and they do not need us? Wait, Padre Camorra,
+wait! Admit that now the people may be weak and ignorant—I also believe that—but it
+will not be true tomorrow or the day after. Tomorrow and the next day they will be
+the stronger, they will know what is good for them, and we cannot keep it from them,
+just as it is not possible to keep from children the knowledge of many things when
+they reach a certain age. I say, then, why should we not take advantage of this condition
+of ignorance to change our policy completely, to place it upon a basis solid and enduring—on
+the basis of justice, for example, instead of on the basis of ignorance? There’s nothing
+like being just; that I’ve always said to my brethren, but they won’t believe me.
+The Indian idolizes justice, like every race in its youth; he asks for punishment
+when he has done wrong, just as he is exasperated when he has not deserved it. Is
+theirs a just desire? Then grant it! Let’s give them all the schools they want, until
+they are tired of them. Youth is lazy, and what urges them to activity is our opposition.
+Our bond of prestige, Padre Sibyla, is about worn out, so let’s prepare another, the
+bond of gratitude, for example. Let’s not be fools, let’s do as the crafty Jesuits—”
+</p>
+<p>“Padre Fernandez!” Anything could be tolerated by Padre Sibyla except to propose the
+Jesuits to him as a model. Pale and trembling, he broke out into bitter recrimination.
+“A Franciscan first! Anything before a Jesuit!” He was beside himself.
+</p>
+<p>“Oh, oh!”
+</p>
+<p>“Eh, Padre—”
+</p>
+<p>A general discussion broke out, regardless of the Captain-General. All talked at once,
+they yelled, they misunderstood and contradicted one another. Ben-Zayb and Padre Camorra
+shook their fists in each other’s faces, one talking <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1825">[<a href="#xd32e1825">103</a>]</span>of simpletons and the other of ink-slingers, Padre Sibyla kept harping on the <i>Capitulum</i>, and Padre Fernandez on the <i>Summa</i> of St. Thomas, until the curate of Los Baños entered to announce that breakfast was
+served.
+</p>
+<p>His Excellency arose and so ended the discussion. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “we’ve
+worked like niggers and yet we’re on a vacation. Some one has said that grave matters
+should be considered at dessert. I’m entirely of that opinion.”
+</p>
+<p>“We might get indigestion,” remarked the secretary, alluding to the heat of the discussion.
+</p>
+<p>“Then we’ll lay it aside until tomorrow.”
+</p>
+<p>As they rose the high official whispered to the General, “Your Excellency, the daughter
+of Cabesang Tales has been here again begging for the release of her sick grandfather,
+who was arrested in place of her father.”
+</p>
+<p>His Excellency looked at him with an expression of impatience and rubbed his hand
+across his broad forehead. “<i>Carambas</i>! Can’t one be left to eat his breakfast in peace?”
+</p>
+<p>“This is the third day she has come. She’s a poor girl—”
+</p>
+<p>“Oh, the devil!” exclaimed Padre Camorra. “I’ve just thought of it. I have something
+to say to the General about that—that’s what I came over for—to support that girl’s
+petition.”
+</p>
+<p>The General scratched the back of his ear and said, “Oh, go along! Have the secretary
+make out an order to the lieutenant of the Civil Guard for the old man’s release.
+They sha’n’t say that we’re not clement and merciful.”
+</p>
+<p>He looked at Ben-Zayb. The journalist winked.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1845">[<a href="#xd32e1845">104</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1711">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1711src">1</a></span> Under the Spanish régime the government paid no attention to education, the schools
+(!) being under the control of the religious orders and the friar-curates of the towns.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1711src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1749">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1749src">2</a></span> The cockpits are farmed out annually by the local governments, the terms “contract,”
+and “contractor,” having now been softened into “license” and “licensee.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1749src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e323">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Placido Penitente</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Reluctantly, and almost with tearful eyes, Placido Penitente was going along the Escolta
+on his way to the University of Santo Tomas. It had hardly been a week since he had
+come from his town, yet he had already written to his mother twice, reiterating his
+desire to abandon his studies and go back there to work. His mother answered that
+he should have patience, that at the least he must be graduated as a bachelor of arts,
+since it would be unwise to desert his books after four years of expense and sacrifices
+on both their parts.
+</p>
+<p>Whence came to Penitente this aversion to study, when he had been one of the most
+diligent in the famous college conducted by Padre Valerio in Tanawan? There Penitente
+had been considered one of the best Latinists and the subtlest disputants, one who
+could tangle or untangle the simplest as well as the most abstruse questions. His
+townspeople considered him very clever, and his curate, influenced by that opinion,
+already classified him as a filibuster—a sure proof that he was neither foolish nor
+incapable. His friends could not explain those desires for abandoning his studies
+and returning: he had no sweethearts, was not a gambler, hardly knew anything about
+<i>hunkían</i> and rarely tried his luck at the more familiar <i lang="es">revesino</i>. He did not believe in the advice of the curates, laughed at <i lang="tl">Tandang Basio Macunat</i>, had plenty of money and good clothes, yet he went to school reluctantly and looked
+with repugnance on his books.
+</p>
+<p>On the Bridge of Spain, a bridge whose name alone came from Spain, since even its
+ironwork came from foreign <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1864">[<a href="#xd32e1864">105</a>]</span>countries, he fell in with the long procession of young men on their way to the Walled
+City to their respective schools. Some were dressed in the European fashion and walked
+rapidly, carrying books and notes, absorbed in thoughts of their lessons and essays—these
+were the students of the Ateneo. Those from San Juan de Letran were nearly all dressed
+in the Filipino costume, but were more numerous and carried fewer books. Those from
+the University are dressed more carefully and elegantly and saunter along carrying
+canes instead of books. The collegians of the Philippines are not very noisy or turbulent.
+They move along in a preoccupied manner, such that upon seeing them one would say
+that before their eyes shone no hope, no smiling future. Even though here and there
+the line is brightened by the attractive appearance of the schoolgirls of the <i>Escuela Municipal</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1868src" href="#xd32e1868">1</a> with their sashes across their shoulders and their books in their hands, followed
+by their servants, yet scarcely a laugh resounds or a joke can be heard—nothing of
+song or jest, at best a few heavy jokes or scuffles among the smaller boys. The older
+ones nearly always proceed seriously and composedly, like the German students.
+</p>
+<p>Placido was proceeding along the Paseo de Magallanes toward the breach—formerly the
+gate—of Santo Domingo, when he suddenly felt a slap on the shoulder, which made him
+turn quickly in ill humor.
+</p>
+<p>“Hello, Penitente! Hello, Penitente!”
+</p>
+<p>It was his schoolmate Juanito Pelaez, the <i>barbero</i> or pet of the professors, as big a rascal as he could be, with a roguish look and
+a clownish smile. The son of a Spanish mestizo—a rich merchant in one of the suburbs,
+who based all his hopes and joys on the boy’s talent—he promised well with his roguery,
+and, thanks to his custom of playing tricks on every one and then hiding behind his
+companions, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1879">[<a href="#xd32e1879">106</a>]</span>he had acquired a peculiar hump, which grew larger whenever he was laughing over his
+deviltry.
+</p>
+<p>“What kind of time did you have, Penitente?” was his question as he again slapped
+him on the shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>“So, so,” answered Placido, rather bored. “And you?”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, it was great! Just imagine—the curate of Tiani invited me to spend the vacation
+in his town, and I went. Old man, you know Padre Camorra, I suppose? Well, he’s a
+liberal curate, very jolly, frank, very frank, one of those like Padre Paco. As there
+were pretty girls, we serenaded them all, he with his guitar and songs and I with
+my violin. I tell you, old man, we had a great time—there wasn’t a house we didn’t
+try!”
+</p>
+<p>He whispered a few words in Placido’s ear and then broke out into laughter. As the
+latter exhibited some surprise, he resumed: “I’ll swear to it! They can’t help themselves,
+because with a governmental order you get rid of the father, husband, or brother,
+and then—merry Christmas! However, we did run up against a little fool, the sweetheart,
+I believe, of Basilio, you know? Look, what a fool this Basilio is! To have a sweetheart
+who doesn’t know a word of Spanish, who hasn’t any money, and who has been a servant!
+She’s as shy as she can be, but pretty. Padre Camorra one night started to club two
+fellows who were serenading her and I don’t know how it was he didn’t kill them, yet
+with all that she was just as shy as ever. But it’ll result for her as it does with
+all the women, all of them!”
+</p>
+<p>Juanito Pelaez laughed with a full mouth, as though he thought this a glorious thing,
+while Placido stared at him in disgust.
+</p>
+<p>“Listen, what did the professor explain yesterday?” asked Juanito, changing the conversation.
+</p>
+<p>“Yesterday there was no class.”
+</p>
+<p>“Oho, and the day before yesterday?”
+</p>
+<p>“Man, it was Thursday!”
+</p>
+<p>“Right! What an ass I am! Don’t you know, Placido, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1893">[<a href="#xd32e1893">107</a>]</span>that I’m getting to be a regular ass? What about Wednesday?”
+</p>
+<p>“Wednesday? Wait—Wednesday, it was a little wet.”
+</p>
+<p>“Fine! What about Tuesday, old man?”
+</p>
+<p>“Tuesday was the professor’s nameday and we went to entertain him with an orchestra,
+present him flowers and some gifts.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, <i>carambas!</i>” exclaimed Juanito, “that I should have forgotten about it! What an ass I am! Listen,
+did he ask for me?”
+</p>
+<p>Penitente shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but they gave him a list of his entertainers.”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Carambas!</i> Listen—Monday, what happened?”
+</p>
+<p>“As it was the first school-day, he called the roll and assigned the lesson—about
+mirrors. Look, from here to here, by memory, word for word. We jump all this section,
+we take that.” He was pointing out with his finger in the “Physics” the portions that
+were to be learned, when suddenly the book flew through the air, as a result of the
+slap Juanito gave it from below.
+</p>
+<p>“Thunder, let the lessons go! Let’s have a <i>dia pichido!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>The students in Manila call <i>dia pichido</i> a school-day that falls between two holidays and is consequently suppressed, as though
+forced out by their wish.
+</p>
+<p>“Do you know that you really are an ass?” exclaimed Placido, picking up his book and
+papers.
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s have a <i>dia pichido!</i>” repeated Juanito.
+</p>
+<p>Placido was unwilling, since for only two the authorities were hardly going to suspend
+a class of more than a hundred and fifty. He recalled the struggles and privations
+his mother was suffering in order to keep him in Manila, while she went without even
+the necessities of life.
+</p>
+<p>They were just passing through the breach of Santo Domingo, and Juanito, gazing across
+the little plaza<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1925src" href="#xd32e1925">2</a> in <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1928">[<a href="#xd32e1928">108</a>]</span>front of the old Customs building, exclaimed, “Now I think of it, I’m appointed to
+take up the collection.”
+</p>
+<p>“What collection?”
+</p>
+<p>“For the monument.”
+</p>
+<p>“What monument?”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out! For Padre Balthazar, you know.”
+</p>
+<p>“And who was Padre Balthazar?”
+</p>
+<p>“Fool! A Dominican, of course—that’s why the padres call on the students. Come on
+now, loosen up with three or four pesos, so that they may see we are sports. Don’t
+let them say afterwards that in order to erect a statue they had to dig down into
+their own pockets. Do, Placido, it’s not money thrown away.”
+</p>
+<p>He accompanied these words with a significant wink. Placido recalled the case of a
+student who had passed through the entire course by presenting canary-birds, so he
+subscribed three pesos.
+</p>
+<p>“Look now, I’ll write your name plainly so that the professor will read it, you see—Placido
+Penitente, three pesos. Ah, listen! In a couple of weeks comes the nameday of the
+professor of natural history. You know that he’s a good fellow, never marks absences
+or asks about the lesson. Man, we must show our appreciation!”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s right!”
+</p>
+<p>“Then don’t you think that we ought to give him a celebration? The orchestra must
+not be smaller than the one you had for the professor of physics.”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s right!”
+</p>
+<p>“What do you think about making the contribution two pesos? Come, Placido, you start
+it, so you’ll be at the head of the list.”
+</p>
+<p>Then, seeing that Placido gave the two pesos without hesitation, he added, “Listen,
+put up four, and afterwards I’ll return you two. They’ll serve as a decoy.”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, if you’re going to return them to me, why give them to you? It’ll be sufficient,
+for you to write four.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, that’s right! What an ass I am! Do you know, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1948">[<a href="#xd32e1948">109</a>]</span>I’m getting to be a regular ass! But let me have them anyhow, so that I can show them.”
+</p>
+<p>Placido, in order not to give the lie to the priest who christened him, gave what
+was asked, just as they reached the University.
+</p>
+<p>In the entrance and along the walks on each side of it were gathered the students,
+awaiting the appearance of the professors. Students of the preparatory year of law,
+of the fifth of the secondary course, of the preparatory in medicine, formed lively
+groups. The latter were easily distinguished by their clothing and by a certain air
+that was lacking in the others, since the greater part of them came from the Ateneo
+Municipal. Among them could be seen the poet Isagani, explaining to a companion the
+theory of the refraction of light. In another group they were talking, disputing,
+citing the statements of the professor, the text-books, and scholastic principles;
+in yet another they were gesticulating and waving their books in the air or making
+demonstrations with their canes by drawing diagrams on the ground; farther on, they
+were entertaining themselves in watching the pious women go into the neighboring church,
+all the students making facetious remarks. An old woman leaning on a young girl limped
+piously, while the girl moved along with downcast eyes, timid and abashed to pass
+before so many curious eyes. The old lady, catching up her coffee-colored skirt, of
+the Sisterhood of St. Rita, to reveal her big feet and white stockings, scolded her
+companion and shot furious glances at the staring bystanders.
+</p>
+<p>“The rascals!” she grunted. “Don’t look at them, keep your eyes down.”
+</p>
+<p>Everything was noticed; everything called forth jokes and comments. Now it was a magnificent
+victoria which stopped at the door to set down a family of votaries on their way to
+visit the Virgin of the Rosary<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1955src" href="#xd32e1955">3</a> on her favorite <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1958">[<a href="#xd32e1958">110</a>]</span>day, while the inquisitive sharpened their eyes to get a glimpse of the shape and
+size of the young ladies’ feet as they got out of the carriages; now it was a student
+who came out of the door with devotion still shining in his eyes, for he had passed
+through the church to beg the Virgin’s help in understanding his lesson and to see
+if his sweetheart was there, to exchange a few glances with her and go on to his class
+with the recollection of her loving eyes.
+</p>
+<p>Soon there was noticed some movement in the groups, a certain air of expectancy, while
+Isagani paused and turned pale. A carriage drawn by a pair of well-known white horses
+had stopped at the door. It was that of Paulita Gomez, and she had already jumped
+down, light as a bird, without giving the rascals time to see her foot. With a bewitching
+whirl of her body and a sweep of her hand she arranged the folds of her skirt, shot
+a rapid and apparently careless glance toward Isagani, spoke to him and smiled. Doña
+Victorina descended in her turn, gazed over her spectacles, saw Juanito Pelaez, smiled,
+and bowed to him affably.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani, flushed with excitement, returned a timid salute, while Juanito bowed profoundly,
+took off his hat, and made the same gesture as the celebrated clown and caricaturist
+Panza when he received applause.
+</p>
+<p>“Heavens, what a girl!” exclaimed one of the students, starting forward. “Tell the
+professor that I’m seriously ill.” So Tadeo, as this invalid youth was known, entered
+the church to follow the girl.
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo went to the University every day to ask if the classes would be held and each
+time seemed to be more and more astonished that they would. He had a fixed idea of
+a latent and eternal <i>holiday</i>, and expected it to come any day. So each morning, after vainly proposing that they
+play truant, he would go away alleging important business, an appointment, or illness,
+just at the very moment when his companions were going to their classes. But by some
+occult, thaumaturgic art Tadeo passed the examinations, was beloved <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1967">[<a href="#xd32e1967">111</a>]</span>by the professors, and had before him a promising future.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the groups began to move inside, for the professor of physics and chemistry
+had put in his appearance. The students appeared to be cheated in their hopes and
+went toward the interior of the building with exclamations of discontent. Placido
+went along with the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>“Penitente, Penitente!” called a student with a certain mysterious air. “Sign this!”
+</p>
+<p>“What is it?”
+</p>
+<p>“Never mind—sign it!”
+</p>
+<p>It seemed to Placido that some one was twitching his ears. He recalled the story of
+a cabeza de barangay in his town who, for having signed a document that he did not
+understand, was kept a prisoner for months and months, and came near to deportation.
+An uncle of Placido’s, in order to fix the lesson in his memory, had given him a severe
+ear-pulling, so that always whenever he heard signatures spoken of, his ears reproduced
+the sensation.
+</p>
+<p>“Excuse me, but I can’t sign anything without first understanding what it’s about.”
+</p>
+<p>“What a fool you are! If two <i>celestial carbineers</i> have signed it, what have you to fear?”
+</p>
+<p>The name of <i>celestial carbineers</i> inspired confidence, being, as it was, a sacred company created to aid God in the
+warfare against the evil spirit and to prevent the smuggling of heretical contraband
+into the markets of the New Zion.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e1984src" href="#xd32e1984">4</a>
+</p>
+<p>Placido was about to sign to make an end of it, because he was in a hurry,—already
+his classmates were reciting the <i>O Thoma</i>,—but again his ears twitched, so he said, “After the class! I want to read it first.”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s very long, don’t you see? It concerns the presentation of a counter-petition,
+or rather, a protest. Don’t <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e1995">[<a href="#xd32e1995">112</a>]</span>you understand? Makaraig and some others have asked that an academy of Castilian be
+opened, which is a piece of genuine foolishness—”
+</p>
+<p>“All right, all right, after awhile. They’re already beginning,” answered Placido,
+trying to get away.
+</p>
+<p>“But your professor may not call the roll—”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, yes; but he calls it sometimes. Later on, later on! Besides, I don’t want to
+put myself in opposition to Makaraig.”
+</p>
+<p>“But it’s not putting yourself in opposition, it’s only—”
+</p>
+<p>Placido heard no more, for he was already far away, hurrying to his class. He heard
+the different voices—<i>adsum, adsum</i>—the roll was being called! Hastening his steps he got to the door just as the letter
+Q was reached.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Tinamáan ñg—!</i>”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2010src" href="#xd32e2010">5</a> he muttered, biting his lips.
+</p>
+<p>He hesitated about entering, for the mark was already down against him and was not
+to be erased. One did not go to the class to learn but in order not to get this absence
+mark, for the class was reduced to reciting the lesson from memory, reading the book,
+and at the most answering a few abstract, profound, captious, enigmatic questions.
+True, the usual preachment was never lacking—the same as ever, about humility, submission,
+and respect to the clerics, and he, Placido, was humble, submissive, and respectful.
+So he was about to turn away when he remembered that the examinations were approaching
+and his professor had not yet asked him a question nor appeared to notice him—this
+would be a good opportunity to attract his attention and become known! To be known
+was to gain a year, for if it cost nothing to suspend one who was not known, it required
+a hard heart not to be touched by the sight of a youth who by his daily presence was
+a reproach over a year of his life wasted.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2015">[<a href="#xd32e2015">113</a>]</span></p>
+<p>So Placido went in, not on tiptoe as was his custom, but noisily on his heels, and
+only too well did he succeed in his intent! The professor stared at him, knitted his
+brows, and shook his head, as though to say, “Ah, little impudence, you’ll pay for
+that!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2018">[<a href="#xd32e2018">114</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1868">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1868src">1</a></span> The “Municipal School for Girls” was founded by the municipality of Manila in 1864.…
+The institution was in charge of the Sisters of Charity.—<i>Census of the Philippine Islands, Vol. III, p. 615</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1868src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1925">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1925src">2</a></span> Now known as Plaza España.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1925src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1955">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1955src">3</a></span> Patroness of the Dominican Order. She was formally and sumptuously recrowned a queen
+of the skies in 1907.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1955src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e1984">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e1984src">4</a></span> A burlesque on an association of students known as the <i>Milicia Angelica</i>, organized by the Dominicans to strengthen their hold on the people. The name used
+is significant, “carbineers” being the local revenue officers, notorious in their
+later days for graft and abuse.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e1984src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2010">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2010src">5</a></span> “Tinamáan ñg lintik!”—a Tagalog exclamation of anger, disappointment, or dismay, regarded
+as a very strong expression, equivalent to profanity. Literally, “May the lightning
+strike you!”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2010src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e333">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Class in Physics</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">The classroom was a spacious rectangular hall with large grated windows that admitted
+an abundance of light and air. Along the two sides extended three wide tiers of stone
+covered with wood, filled with students arranged in alphabetical order. At the end
+opposite the entrance, under a print of St. Thomas Aquinas, rose the professor’s chair
+on an elevated platform with a little stairway on each side. With the exception of
+a beautiful blackboard in a narra frame, scarcely ever used, since there was still
+written on it the <i>viva</i> that had appeared on the opening day, no furniture, either useful or useless, was
+to be seen. The walls, painted white and covered with glazed tiles to prevent scratches,
+were entirely bare, having neither a drawing nor a picture, nor even an outline of
+any physical apparatus. The students had no need of any, no one missed the practical
+instruction in an extremely experimental science; for years and years it has been
+so taught and the country has not been upset, but continues just as ever. Now and
+then some little instrument descended from heaven and was exhibited to the class from
+a distance, like the monstrance to the prostrate worshipers—look, but touch not! From
+time to time, when some complacent professor appeared, one day in the year was set
+aside for visiting the mysterious laboratory and gazing from without at the puzzling
+apparatus arranged in glass cases. No one could complain, for on that day there were
+to be seen quantities of brass and glassware, tubes, disks, wheels, bells, and the
+like—the exhibition did not get beyond that, and the country was not upset.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2027">[<a href="#xd32e2027">115</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Besides, the students were convinced that those instruments had not been purchased
+for them—the friars would be fools! The laboratory was intended to be shown to the
+visitors and the high officials who came from the Peninsula, so that upon seeing it
+they would nod their heads with satisfaction, while their guide would smile, as if
+to say, “Eh, you thought you were going to find some backward monks! Well, we’re right
+up with the times—we have a laboratory!”
+</p>
+<p>The visitors and high officials, after being handsomely entertained, would then write
+in their <i>Travels</i> or <i>Memoirs</i>: “The Royal and Pontifical University of Santo Tomas of Manila, in charge of the
+enlightened Dominican Order, possesses a magnificent physical laboratory for the instruction
+of youth. Some two hundred and fifty students annually study this subject, but whether
+from apathy, indolence, the limited capacity of the Indian, or some other ethnological
+or incomprehensible reason, up to now there has not developed a Lavoisier, a Secchi,
+or a Tyndall, not even in miniature, in the Malay-Filipino race.”
+</p>
+<p>Yet, to be exact, we will say that in this laboratory are held the classes of thirty
+or forty <i>advanced</i> students, under the direction of an instructor who performs his duties well enough,
+but as the greater part of these students come from the Ateneo of the Jesuits, where
+science is taught practically in the laboratory itself, its utility does not come
+to be so great as it would be if it could be utilized by the two hundred and fifty
+who pay their matriculation fees, buy their books, memorize them, and waste a year
+to know nothing afterwards. As a result, with the exception of some rare usher or
+janitor who has had charge of the museum for years, no one has ever been known to
+get any advantage from the lessons memorized with so great effort.
+</p>
+<p>But let us return to the class. The professor was a young Dominican, who had filled
+several chairs in San Juan de Letran with zeal and good repute. He had the reputation
+of being a great logician as well as a profound <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2041">[<a href="#xd32e2041">116</a>]</span>philosopher, and was one of the most promising in his clique. His elders treated him
+with consideration, while the younger men envied him, for there were also cliques
+among them. This was the third year of his professorship and, although the first in
+which he had taught physics and chemistry, he already passed for a sage, not only
+with the complaisant students but also among the other nomadic professors. Padre Millon
+did not belong to the common crowd who each year change their subject in order to
+acquire scientific knowledge, students among other students, with the difference only
+that they follow a single course, that they quiz instead of being quizzed, that they
+have a better knowledge of Castilian, and that they are not examined at the completion
+of the course. Padre Millon went deeply into science, knew the physics of Aristotle
+and Padre Amat, read carefully his “Ramos,” and sometimes glanced at “Ganot.” With
+all that, he would often shake his head with an air of doubt, as he smiled and murmured:
+“<i>transeat</i>.” In regard to chemistry, no common knowledge was attributed to him after he had
+taken as a premise the statement of St. Thomas that water is a mixture and proved
+plainly that the Angelic Doctor had long forestalled Berzelius, Gay-Lussac, Bunsen,
+and other more or less presumptuous materialists. Moreover, in spite of having been
+an instructor in geography, he still entertained certain doubts as to the rotundity
+of the earth and smiled maliciously when its rotation and revolution around the sun
+were mentioned, as he recited the verses
+</p>
+<div lang="es" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">“El mentir de las estrellas
+</p>
+<p class="line">Es un cómodo mentir.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2049src" href="#xd32e2049">1</a></p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">He also smiled maliciously in the presence of certain physical theories and considered
+visionary, if not actually insane, the Jesuit Secchi, to whom he imputed the making
+of triangulations on the host as a result of his astronomical mania, for which reason
+it was said that he had been forbidden <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2053">[<a href="#xd32e2053">117</a>]</span>to celebrate mass. Many persons also noticed in him some aversion to the sciences
+that he taught, but these vagaries were trifles, scholarly and religious prejudices
+that were easily explained, not only by the fact that the physical sciences were eminently
+practical, of pure observation and deduction, while his forte was philosophy, purely
+speculative, of abstraction and induction, but also because, like any good Dominican,
+jealous of the fame of his order, he could hardly feel any affection for a science
+in which none of his brethren had excelled—he was the first who did not accept the
+chemistry of St. Thomas Aquinas—and in which so much renown had been acquired by hostile,
+or rather, let us say, rival orders.
+</p>
+<p>This was the professor who that morning called the roll and directed many of the students
+to recite the lesson from memory, word for word. The phonographs got into operation,
+some well, some ill, some stammering, and received their grades. He who recited without
+an error earned a good mark and he who made more than three mistakes a bad mark.
+</p>
+<p>A fat boy with a sleepy face and hair as stiff and hard as the bristles of a brush
+yawned until he seemed to be about to dislocate his jaws, and stretched himself with
+his arms extended as though he were in his bed. The professor saw this and wished
+to startle him.
+</p>
+<p>“Eh, there, sleepy-head! What’s this? Lazy, too, so it’s sure you<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2060src" href="#xd32e2060">2</a> don’t know the lesson, ha?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Millon not only used the depreciative <i>tu</i> with the students, like a good friar, but he also addressed them in the slang of
+the markets, a practise that he had acquired from the professor of canonical law:
+whether that reverend gentleman wished to humble the students or the sacred decrees
+of the councils is a question not yet settled, in spite of the great attention that
+has been given to it.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2069">[<a href="#xd32e2069">118</a>]</span></p>
+<p>This question, instead of offending the class, amused them, and many laughed—it was
+a daily occurrence. But the sleeper did not laugh; he arose with a bound, rubbed his
+eyes, and, as though a steam-engine were turning the phonograph, began to recite.
+</p>
+<p>“The name of mirror is applied to all polished surfaces intended to produce by the
+reflection of light the images of the objects placed before said surfaces. From the
+substances that form these surfaces, they are divided into metallic mirrors and glass
+mirrors—”
+</p>
+<p>“Stop, stop, stop!” interrupted the professor. “Heavens, what a rattle! We are at
+the point where the mirrors are divided into metallic and glass, eh? Now if I should
+present to you a block of wood, a piece of kamagon for instance, well polished and
+varnished, or a slab of black marble well burnished, or a square of jet, which would
+reflect the images of objects placed before them, how would you classify those mirrors?”
+</p>
+<p>Whether he did not know what to answer or did not understand the question, the student
+tried to get out of the difficulty by demonstrating that he knew the lesson, so he
+rushed on like a torrent.
+</p>
+<p>“The first are composed of brass or an alloy of different metals and the second of
+a sheet of glass, with its two sides well polished, one of which has an amalgam of
+tin adhering to it.”
+</p>
+<p>“Tut, tut, tut! That’s not it! I say to you ‘<i lang="la">Dominus vobiscum</i>,’ and you answer me with ‘<i lang="la">Requiescat in pace!</i>’ ”
+</p>
+<p>The worthy professor then repeated the question in the vernacular of the markets,
+interspersed with <i>cosas</i> and <i>abás</i> at every moment.
+</p>
+<p>The poor youth did not know how to get out of the quandary: he doubted whether to
+include the kamagon with the metals, or the marble with glasses, and leave the jet
+as a neutral substance, until Juanito Pelaez maliciously prompted him:
+</p>
+<p>“The mirror of kamagon among the wooden mirrors.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2092">[<a href="#xd32e2092">119</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The incautious youth repeated this aloud and half the class was convulsed with laughter.
+</p>
+<p>“A good sample of wood you are yourself!” exclaimed the professor, laughing in spite
+of himself. “Let’s see from what you would define a mirror—from a surface <i lang="la">per se, in quantum est superficies</i>, or from a substance that forms the surface, or from the substance upon which the
+surface rests, the raw material, modified by the attribute ‘surface,’ since it is
+clear that, surface being an accidental property of bodies, it cannot exist without
+substance. Let’s see now—what do you say?”
+</p>
+<p>“I? Nothing!” the wretched boy was about to reply, for he did not understand what
+it was all about, confused as he was by so many surfaces and so many accidents that
+smote cruelly on his ears, but a sense of shame restrained him. Filled with anguish
+and breaking into a cold perspiration, he began to repeat between his teeth: “The
+name of mirror is applied to all polished surfaces—”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Ergo, per te</i>, the mirror is the surface,” angled the professor. “Well, then, clear up this difficulty.
+If the surface is the mirror, it must be of no consequence to the ‘essence’ of the
+mirror what may be found behind this surface, since what is behind it does not affect
+the ‘essence’ that is before it, <i lang="la">id est</i>, the surface, <i lang="la">quae super faciem est, quia vocatur superficies, facies ea quae supra videtur</i>. Do you admit that or do you not admit it?”
+</p>
+<p>The poor youth’s hair stood up straighter than ever, as though acted upon by some
+magnetic force.
+</p>
+<p>“Do you admit it or do you not admit it?”
+</p>
+<p>“Anything! Whatever you wish, Padre,” was his thought, but he did not dare to express
+it from fear of ridicule. That was a dilemma indeed, and he had never been in a worse
+one. He had a vague idea that the most innocent thing could not be admitted to the
+friars but that they, or rather their estates and curacies, would get out of it all
+the results and advantages imaginable. So his good angel prompted him to deny everything
+with all the energy <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2116">[<a href="#xd32e2116">120</a>]</span>of his soul and refractoriness of his hair, and he was about to shout a proud <i>nego</i>, for the reason that he who denies everything does not compromise himself in anything,
+as a certain lawyer had once told him; but the evil habit of disregarding the dictates
+of one’s own conscience, of having little faith in legal folk, and of seeking aid
+from others where one is sufficient unto himself, was his undoing. His companions,
+especially Juanito Pelaez, were making signs to him to admit it, so he let himself
+be carried away by his evil destiny and exclaimed, “<i lang="la">Concedo</i>, Padre,” in a voice as faltering as though he were saying, “<i lang="la">In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum.</i>”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Concedo antecedentum</i>,” echoed the professor, smiling maliciously. “<i>Ergo</i>, I can scratch the mercury off a looking-glass, put in its place a piece of <i>bibinka</i>, and we shall still have a mirror, eh? Now what shall we have?”
+</p>
+<p>The youth gazed at his prompters, but seeing them surprised and speechless, contracted
+his features into an expression of bitterest reproach. “<i lang="la">Deus meus, Deus meus, quare dereliquiste me,</i>” said his troubled eyes, while his lips muttered “<i>Linintikan!</i>” Vainly he coughed, fumbled at his shirt-bosom, stood first on one foot and then
+on the other, but found no answer.
+</p>
+<p>“Come now, what have we?” urged the professor, enjoying the effect of his reasoning.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Bibinka!</i>” whispered Juanito Pelaez. “<i>Bibinka!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>“Shut up, you fool!” cried the desperate youth, hoping to get out of the difficulty
+by turning it into a complaint.
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s see, Juanito, if you can answer the question for me,” the professor then said
+to Pelaez, who was one of his pets.
+</p>
+<p>The latter rose slowly, not without first giving Penitente, who followed him on the
+roll, a nudge that meant, “Don’t forget to prompt me.”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Nego consequentiam</i>, Padre,” he replied resolutely.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha, then <i lang="la">probo consequentiam! Per te</i>, the polished surface constitutes the ‘essence’ of the mirror—”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2163">[<a href="#xd32e2163">121</a>]</span></p>
+<p><i lang="la">“Nego suppositum!”</i> interrupted Juanito, as he felt Placido pulling at his coat.
+</p>
+<p>“How? <i lang="la">Per te</i>—”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Nego!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Ergo,</i> you believe that what is behind affects what is in front?”
+</p>
+<p><i>“Nego!”</i> the student cried with still more ardor, feeling another jerk at his coat.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito, or rather Placido, who was prompting him, was unconsciously adopting Chinese
+tactics: not to admit the most inoffensive foreigner in order not to be invaded.
+</p>
+<p>“Then where are we?” asked the professor, somewhat disconcerted, and looking uneasily
+at the refractory student. “Does the substance behind affect, or does it not affect,
+the surface?”
+</p>
+<p>To this precise and categorical question, a kind of ultimatum, Juanito did not know
+what to reply and his coat offered no suggestions. In vain he made signs to Placido,
+but Placido himself was in doubt. Juanito then took advantage of a moment in which
+the professor was staring at a student who was cautiously and secretly taking off
+the shoes that hurt his feet, to step heavily on Placido’s toes and whisper, “Tell
+me, hurry up, tell me!”
+</p>
+<p>“I distinguish—Get out! What an ass you are!” yelled Placido unreservedly, as he stared
+with angry eyes and rubbed his hand over his patent-leather shoe.
+</p>
+<p>The professor heard the cry, stared at the pair, and guessed what had happened.
+</p>
+<p>“Listen, you meddler,” he addressed Placido, “I wasn’t questioning you, but since
+you think you can save others, let’s see if you can save yourself, <i>salva te ipsum,</i> and decide this question.”
+</p>
+<p>Juanito sat down in content, and as a mark of gratitude stuck out his tongue at his
+prompter, who had arisen blushing with shame and muttering incoherent excuses.
+</p>
+<p>For a moment Padre Millon regarded him as one gloating over a favorite dish. What
+a good thing it would be <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2197">[<a href="#xd32e2197">122</a>]</span>to humiliate and hold up to ridicule that dudish boy, always smartly dressed, with
+head erect and serene look! It would be a deed of charity, so the charitable professor
+applied himself to it with all his heart, slowly repeating the question.
+</p>
+<p>“The book says that the metallic mirrors are made of brass and an alloy of different
+metals—is that true or is it not true?”
+</p>
+<p>“So the book says, Padre.”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Liber dixit, ergo ita est</i>. Don’t pretend that you know more than the book does. It then adds that the glass
+mirrors are made of a sheet of glass whose two surfaces are well polished, one of
+them having applied to it an amalgam of tin, <i>nota bene</i>, an amalgam of tin! Is that true?”
+</p>
+<p>“If the book says so, Padre.”
+</p>
+<p>“Is tin a metal?”
+</p>
+<p>“It seems so, Padre. The book says so.”
+</p>
+<p>“It is, it is, and the word amalgam means that it is compounded with mercury, which
+is also a metal. <i>Ergo</i>, a glass mirror is a metallic mirror; <i>ergo</i>, the terms of the distinction are confused; <i>ergo</i>, the classification is imperfect—how do you explain that, meddler?”
+</p>
+<p>He emphasized the <i>ergos</i> and the familiar “you’s” with indescribable relish, at the same time winking, as
+though to say, “You’re done for.”
+</p>
+<p>“It means that, it means that—” stammered Placido.
+</p>
+<p>“It means that you haven’t learned the lesson, you petty meddler, you don’t understand
+it yourself, and yet you prompt your neighbor!”
+</p>
+<p>The class took no offense, but on the contrary many thought the epithet funny and
+laughed. Placido bit his lips.
+</p>
+<p>“What’s your name?” the professor asked him.
+</p>
+<p>“Placido,” was the curt reply.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha! Placido Penitente, although you look more like Placido the Prompter—or the Prompted.
+But, <i>Penitent</i>, I’m going to impose some <i>penance</i> on you for your promptings.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2235">[<a href="#xd32e2235">123</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Pleased with his play on words, he ordered the youth to recite the lesson, and the
+latter, in the state of mind to which he was reduced, made more than three mistakes.
+Shaking his head up and down, the professor slowly opened the register and slowly
+scanned it while he called off the names in a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>“Palencia—Palomo—Panganiban—Pedraza—Pelado—Pelaez—Penitents, aha! Placido Penitente,
+fifteen unexcused absences—”
+</p>
+<p>Placido started up. “Fifteen absences, Padre?”
+</p>
+<p>“Fifteen unexcused absences,” continued the professor, “so that you only lack one
+to be dropped from the roll.”
+</p>
+<p>“Fifteen absences, fifteen absences,” repeated Placido in amazement. “I’ve never been
+absent more than four times, and with today, perhaps five.”
+</p>
+<p>“Jesso, jesso, monseer,”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2244src" href="#xd32e2244">3</a> replied the professor, examining the youth over his gold eye-glasses. “You confess
+that you have missed five times, and God knows if you may have missed oftener. <i>Atqui</i>, as I rarely call the roll, every time I catch any one I put five marks against him;
+<i>ergo</i>, how many are five times five? Have you forgotten the multiplication table? Five
+times five?”
+</p>
+<p>“Twenty-five.”
+</p>
+<p>“Correct, correct! Thus you’ve still got away with ten, because I have caught you
+only three times. Huh, if I had caught you every time—Now, how many are three times
+five?”
+</p>
+<p>“Fifteen.”
+</p>
+<p>“Fifteen, right you are!” concluded the professor, closing the register. “If you miss
+once more—out of doors with you, get out! Ah, now a mark for the failure in the daily
+lesson.”
+</p>
+<p>He again opened the register, sought out the name, and entered the mark. “Come, only
+one mark,” he said, “since you hadn’t any before.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2257">[<a href="#xd32e2257">124</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“But, Padre,” exclaimed Placido, restraining himself, “if your Reverence puts a mark
+against me for failing in the lesson, your Reverence owes it to me to erase the one
+for absence that you have put against me for today.”
+</p>
+<p>His Reverence made no answer. First he slowly entered the mark, then contemplated
+it with his head on one side,—the mark must be artistic,—closed the register, and
+asked with great sarcasm, “<i>Abá</i>, and why so, sir?”
+</p>
+<p>“Because I can’t conceive, Padre, how one can be absent from the class and at the
+same time recite the lesson in it. Your Reverence is saying that to be is not to be.”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Nakú</i>, a metaphysician, but a rather premature one! So you can’t conceive of it, eh? <i lang="la">Sed patet experientia</i> and <i lang="la">contra experientiam negantem, fusilibus est arguendum</i>, do you understand? And can’t you conceive, with your philosophical head, that one
+can be absent from the class and not know the lesson at the same time? Is it a fact
+that absence necessarily implies knowledge? What do you say to that, philosophaster?”
+</p>
+<p>This last epithet was the drop of water that made the full cup overflow. Placido enjoyed
+among his friends the reputation of being a philosopher, so he lost his patience,
+threw down his book, arose, and faced the professor.
+</p>
+<p>“Enough, Padre, enough! Your Reverence can put all the marks against me that you wish,
+but you haven’t the right to insult me. Your Reverence may stay with the class, I
+can’t stand any more.” Without further farewell, he stalked away.
+</p>
+<p>The class was astounded; such an assumption of dignity had scarcely ever been seen,
+and who would have thought it of Placido Penitente? The surprised professor bit his
+lips and shook his head threateningly as he watched him depart. Then in a trembling
+voice he began his preachment on the same old theme, delivered however with more energy
+and more eloquence. It dealt with the growing arrogance, the innate ingratitude, the
+presumption, the lack of respect for superiors, the pride that the spirit of darkness
+infused in the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2279">[<a href="#xd32e2279">125</a>]</span>young, the lack of manners, the absence of courtesy, and so on. From this he passed
+to coarse jests and sarcasm over the presumption which some good-for-nothing “prompters”
+had of teaching their teachers by establishing an academy for instruction in Castilian.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha, aha!” he moralized, “those who the day before yesterday scarcely knew how to
+say, ‘Yes, Padre,’ ‘No, Padre,’ now want to know more than those who have grown gray
+teaching them. He who wishes to learn, will learn, academies or no academies! Undoubtedly
+that fellow who has just gone out is one of those in the project. Castilian is in
+good hands with such guardians! When are you going to get the time to attend the academy
+if you have scarcely enough to fulfill your duties in the regular classes? We wish
+that you may all know Spanish and that you pronounce it well, so that you won’t split
+our ear-drums with your twist of expression and your ‘p’s’;<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2283src" href="#xd32e2283">4</a> but first business and then pleasure: finish your studies first, and afterwards learn
+Castilian, and all become clerks, if you so wish.”
+</p>
+<p>So he went on with his harangue until the bell rang and the class was over. The two
+hundred and thirty-four students, after reciting their prayers, went out as ignorant
+as when they went in, but breathing more freely, as if a great weight had been lifted
+from them. Each youth had lost another hour of his life and with it a portion of his
+dignity and self-respect, and in exchange there was an increase of discontent, of
+aversion to study, of resentment in their hearts. After all this ask for knowledge,
+dignity, gratitude!
+</p>
+<p><i lang="la">De nobis, post haec, tristis sententia fertur</i>!
+</p>
+<p>Just as the two hundred and thirty-four spent their class hours, so the thousands
+of students who preceded them have spent theirs, and, if matters do not mend, so will
+those yet to come spend theirs, and be brutalized, while wounded dignity and youthful
+enthusiasm will be converted into <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2297">[<a href="#xd32e2297">126</a>]</span>hatred and sloth, like the waves that become polluted along one part of the shore
+and roll on one after another, each in succession depositing a larger sediment of
+filth. But yet He who from eternity watches the consequences of a deed develop like
+a thread through the loom of the centuries, He who weighs the value of a second and
+has ordained for His creatures as an elemental law progress and development, He, if
+He is just, will demand a strict accounting from those who must render it, of the
+millions of intelligences darkened and blinded, of human dignity trampled upon in
+millions of His creatures, and of the incalculable time lost and effort wasted! And
+if the teachings of the Gospel are based on truth, so also will these have to answer—the
+millions and millions who do not know how to preserve the light of their intelligences
+and their dignity of mind, as the master demanded an accounting from the cowardly
+servant for the talent that he let be taken from him.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2299">[<a href="#xd32e2299">127</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2049" lang="en">
+<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2049src">1</a></span> “To lie about the stars is a safe kind of lying.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2049src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2060">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2060src">2</a></span> Throughout this chapter the professor uses the familiar <i>tu</i> in addressing the students, thus giving his remarks a contemptuous tone.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2060src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2244">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2244src">3</a></span> The professor speaks these words in vulgar dialect.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2244src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2283">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2283src">4</a></span> To confuse the letters <i>p</i> and <i>f</i> in speaking Spanish was a common error among uneducated Filipinos.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2283src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e343">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XIV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">In the House of the Students</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">The house where Makaraig lived was worth visiting. Large and spacious, with two entresols
+provided with elegant gratings, it seemed to be a school during the first hours of
+the morning and pandemonium from ten o’clock on. During the boarders’ recreation hours,
+from the lower hallway of the spacious entrance up to the main floor, there was a
+bubbling of laughter, shouts, and movement. Boys in scanty clothing played <i>sipa</i> or practised gymnastic exercises on improvised trapezes, while on the staircase a
+fight was in progress between eight or nine armed with canes, sticks, and ropes, but
+neither attackers nor attacked did any great damage, their blows generally falling
+sidewise upon the shoulders of the Chinese pedler who was there selling his outlandish
+mixtures and indigestible pastries. Crowds of boys surrounded him, pulled at his already
+disordered queue, snatched pies from him, haggled over the prices, and committed a
+thousand deviltries. The Chinese yelled, swore, forswore, in all the languages he
+could jabber, not omitting his own; he whimpered, laughed, pleaded, put on a smiling
+face when an ugly one would not serve, or the reverse.
+</p>
+<p>He cursed them as devils, savages, <i>no kilistanos</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2311src" href="#xd32e2311">1</a> but that mattered nothing. A whack would bring his face around smiling, and if the
+blow fell only upon his shoulders he would calmly continue his business transactions,
+contenting himself with crying out to them that he was not in the game, but if it
+struck the flat basket on which were placed his wares, then he would swear never to
+come again, as he <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2317">[<a href="#xd32e2317">128</a>]</span>poured out upon them all the imprecations and anathemas imaginable. Then the boys
+would redouble their efforts to make him rage the more, and when at last his vocabulary
+was exhausted and they were satiated with his fearful mixtures, they paid him religiously,
+and sent him away happy, winking, chuckling to himself, and receiving as caresses
+the light blows from their canes that the students gave him as tokens of farewell.
+</p>
+<p>Concerts on the piano and violin, the guitar, and the accordion, alternated with the
+continual clashing of blades from the fencing lessons. Around a long, wide table the
+students of the Ateneo prepared their compositions or solved their problems by the
+side of others writing to their sweethearts on pink perforated note-paper covered
+with drawings. Here one was composing a melodrama at the side of another practising
+on the flute, from which he drew wheezy notes. Over there, the older boys, students
+in professional courses, who affected silk socks and embroidered slippers, amused
+themselves in teasing the smaller boys by pulling their ears, already red from repeated
+fillips, while two or three held down a little fellow who yelled and cried, defending
+himself with his feet against being reduced to the condition in which he was born,
+kicking and howling. In one room, around a small table, four were playing <i lang="es">revesino</i> with laughter and jokes, to the great annoyance of another who pretended to be studying
+his lesson but who was in reality waiting his turn to play.
+</p>
+<p>Still another came in with exaggerated wonder, scandalized as he approached the table.
+“How wicked you are! So early in the morning and already gambling! Let’s see, let’s
+see! You fool, take it with the three of spades!” Closing his book, he too joined
+in the game.
+</p>
+<p>Cries and blows were heard. Two boys were fighting in the adjoining room—a lame student
+who was very sensitive about his infirmity and an unhappy newcomer from the provinces
+who was just commencing his studies. He was working over a treatise on philosophy
+and reading innocently <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2327">[<a href="#xd32e2327">129</a>]</span>in a loud voice, with a wrong accent, the Cartesian principle: “<i lang="la">Cogito, ergo sum!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>The little lame boy (<i>el cojito</i>) took this as an insult and the others intervened to restore peace, but in reality
+only to sow discord and come to blows themselves.
+</p>
+<p>In the dining-room a young man with a can of sardines, a bottle of wine, and the provisions
+that he had just brought from his town, was making heroic efforts to the end that
+his friends might participate in his lunch, while they were offering in their turn
+heroic resistance to his invitation. Others were bathing on the azotea, playing firemen
+with the water from the well, and joining in combats with pails of water, to the great
+delight of the spectators.
+</p>
+<p>But the noise and shouts gradually died away with the coming of leading students,
+summoned by Makaraig to report to them the progress of the academy of Castilian. Isagani
+was cordially greeted, as was also the Peninsular, Sandoval, who had come to Manila
+as a government employee and was finishing his studies, and who had completely identified
+himself with the cause of the Filipino students. The barriers that politics had established
+between the races had disappeared in the schoolroom as though dissolved by the zeal
+of science and youth.
+</p>
+<p>From lack of lyceums and scientific, literary, or political centers, Sandoval took
+advantage of all the meetings to cultivate his great oratorical gifts, delivering
+speeches and arguing on any subject, to draw forth applause from his friends and listeners.
+At that moment the subject of conversation was the instruction in Castilian, but as
+Makaraig had not yet arrived conjecture was still the order of the day.
+</p>
+<p>“What can have happened?”
+</p>
+<p>“What has the General decided?”
+</p>
+<p>“Has he refused the permit?”
+</p>
+<p>“Has Padre Irene or Padre Sibyla won?”
+</p>
+<p>Such were the questions they asked one another, questions that could be answered only
+by Makaraig.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2346">[<a href="#xd32e2346">130</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Among the young men gathered together there were optimists like Isagani and Sandoval,
+who saw the thing already accomplished and talked of congratulations and praise from
+the government for the patriotism of the students—outbursts of optimism that led Juanito
+Pelaez to claim for himself a large part of the glory of founding the society.
+</p>
+<p>All this was answered by the pessimist Pecson, a chubby youth with a wide, clownish
+grin, who spoke of outside influences, whether the Bishop A., the Padre B., or the
+Provincial C., had been consulted or not, whether or not they had advised that the
+whole association should be put in jail—a suggestion that made Juanito Pelaez so uneasy
+that he stammered out, “<i>Carambas</i>, don’t you drag me into—”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval, as a Peninsular and a liberal, became furious at this. “But pshaw!” he exclaimed,
+“that is holding a bad opinion of his Excellency! I know that he’s quite a friar-lover,
+but in such a matter as this he won’t let the friars interfere. Will you tell me,
+Pecson, on what you base your belief that the General has no judgment of his own?”
+</p>
+<p>“I didn’t say that, Sandoval,” replied Pecson, grinning until he exposed his wisdom-tooth.
+“For me the General has <i>his own</i> judgment, that is, the judgment of all those within his reach. That’s plain!”
+</p>
+<p>“You’re dodging—cite me a fact, cite me a fact!” cried Sandoval. “Let’s get away from
+hollow arguments, from empty phrases, and get on the solid ground of facts,”—this
+with an elegant gesture. “Facts, gentlemen, facts! The rest is prejudice—I won’t call
+it filibusterism.”
+</p>
+<p>Pecson smiled like one of the blessed as he retorted, “There comes the filibusterism.
+But can’t we enter into a discussion without resorting to accusations?”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval protested in a little extemporaneous speech, again demanding facts.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, not long ago there was a dispute between some private persons and certain friars,
+and the acting Governor <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2363">[<a href="#xd32e2363">131</a>]</span>rendered a decision that it should be settled by the Provincial of the Order concerned,”
+replied Pecson, again breaking out into a laugh, as though he were dealing with an
+insignificant matter, he cited names and dates, and promised documents that would
+prove how justice was dispensed.
+</p>
+<p>“But, on what ground, tell me this, on what ground can they refuse permission for
+what plainly appears to be extremely useful and necessary?” asked Sandoval.
+</p>
+<p>Pecson shrugged his shoulders. “It’s that it endangers the integrity of the fatherland,”
+he replied in the tone of a notary reading an allegation.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s pretty good! What has the integrity of the fatherland to do with the rules
+of syntax?”
+</p>
+<p>“The Holy Mother Church has learned doctors—what do I know? Perhaps it is feared that
+we may come to understand the laws so that we can obey them. What will become of the
+Philippines on the day when we understand one another?”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval did not relish the dialectic and jesting turn of the conversation; along
+that path could rise no speech worth the while. “Don’t make a joke of things!” he
+exclaimed. “This is a serious matter.”
+</p>
+<p>“The Lord deliver me from joking when there are friars concerned!”
+</p>
+<p>“But, on what do you base—”
+</p>
+<p>“On the fact that, the hours for the classes having to come at night,” continued Pecson
+in the same tone, as if he were quoting known and recognized formulas, “there may
+be invoked as an obstacle the immorality of the thing, as was done in the case of
+the school at Malolos.”
+</p>
+<p>“Another! But don’t the classes of the Academy of Drawing, and the novenaries and
+the processions, cover themselves with the mantle of night?”
+</p>
+<p>“The scheme affects the dignity of the University,” went on the chubby youth, taking
+no notice of the question.
+</p>
+<p>“Affects nothing! The University has to accommodate <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2378">[<a href="#xd32e2378">132</a>]</span>itself to the needs of the students. And granting that, what is a university then?
+Is it an institution to discourage study? Have a few men banded themselves together
+in the name of learning and instruction in order to prevent others from becoming enlightened?”
+</p>
+<p>“The fact is that movements initiated from below are regarded as discontent—”
+</p>
+<p>“What about projects that come from above?” interpolated one of the students. “There’s
+the School of Arts and Trades!”
+</p>
+<p>“Slowly, slowly, gentlemen,” protested Sandoval. “I’m not a friar-lover, my liberal
+views being well known, but render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s. Of that School
+of Arts and Trades, of which I have been the most enthusiastic supporter and the realization
+of which I shall greet as the first streak of dawn for these fortunate islands, of
+that School of Arts and Trades the friars have taken charge—”
+</p>
+<p>“Or the cat of the canary, which amounts to the same thing,” added Pecson, in his
+turn interrupting the speech.
+</p>
+<p>“Get out!” cried Sandoval, enraged at the interruption, which had caused him to lose
+the thread of his long, well-rounded sentence. “As long as we hear nothing bad, let’s
+not be pessimists, let’s not be unjust, doubting the liberty and independence of the
+government.”
+</p>
+<p>Here he entered upon a defense in beautiful phraseology of the government and its
+good intentions, a subject that Pecson dared not break in upon.
+</p>
+<p>“The Spanish government,” he said among other things, “has given you everything, it
+has denied you nothing! We had absolutism in Spain and you had absolutism here; the
+friars covered our soil with conventos, and conventos occupy a third part of Manila;
+in Spain the garrote prevails and here the garrote is the extreme punishment; we are
+Catholics and we have made you Catholics; we were scholastics and scholasticism sheds
+its light in your college halls; in short, gentlemen, we weep when you weep, we suffer
+when <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2388">[<a href="#xd32e2388">133</a>]</span>you suffer, we have the same altars, the same courts, the same punishments, and it
+is only just that we should give you our rights and our joys.”
+</p>
+<p>As no one interrupted him, he became more and more enthusiastic, until he came to
+speak of the future of the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p>“As I have said, gentlemen, the dawn is not far distant. Spain is now breaking the
+eastern sky for her beloved Philippines, and the times are changing, as I positively
+know, faster than we imagine. This government, which, according to you, is vacillating
+and weak, should be strengthened by our confidence, that we may make it see that it
+is the custodian of our hopes. Let us remind it by our conduct (should it ever forget
+itself, which I do not believe can happen) that we have faith in its good intentions
+and that it should be guided by no other standard than justice and the welfare of
+all the governed. No, gentlemen,” he went on in a tone more and more declamatory,
+“we must not admit at all in this matter the possibility of a consultation with other
+more or less hostile entities, as such a supposition would imply our resignation to
+the fact. Your conduct up to the present has been frank, loyal, without vacillation,
+above suspicion; you have addressed it simply and directly; the reasons you have presented
+could not be more sound; your aim is to lighten the labor of the teachers in the first
+years and to facilitate study among the hundreds of students who fill the college
+halls and for whom one solitary professor cannot suffice. If up to the present the
+petition has not been granted, it has been for the reason, as I feel sure, that there
+has been a great deal of material accumulated, but I predict that the campaign is
+won, that the summons of Makaraig is to announce to us the victory, and tomorrow we
+shall see our efforts crowned with the applause and appreciation of the country, and
+who knows, gentlemen, but that the government may confer upon you some handsome decoration
+of merit, benefactors as you are of the fatherland!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2393">[<a href="#xd32e2393">134</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Enthusiastic applause resounded. All immediately believed in the triumph, and many
+in the decoration.
+</p>
+<p>“Let it be remembered, gentlemen,” observed Juanito, “that I was one of the first
+to propose it.”
+</p>
+<p>The pessimist Pecson was not so enthusiastic. “Just so we don’t get that decoration
+on our ankles,” he remarked, but fortunately for Pelaez this comment was not heard
+in the midst of the applause.
+</p>
+<p>When they had quieted down a little, Pecson replied, “Good, good, very good, but one
+supposition: if in spite of all that, the General consults and consults and consults,
+and afterwards refuses the permit?”
+</p>
+<p>This question fell like a dash of cold water. All turned to Sandoval, who was taken
+aback. “Then—” he stammered.
+</p>
+<p>“Then?”
+</p>
+<p>“Then,” he exclaimed in a burst of enthusiasm, still excited by the applause, “seeing
+that in writing and in printing it boasts of desiring your enlightenment, and yet
+hinders and denies it when called upon to make it a reality—then, gentlemen, your
+efforts will not have been in vain, you will have accomplished what no one else has
+been able to do. Make them drop the mask and fling down the gauntlet to you!”
+</p>
+<p>“Bravo, bravo!” cried several enthusiastically.
+</p>
+<p>“Good for Sandoval! Hurrah for the gauntlet!” added others.
+</p>
+<p>“Let them fling down the gauntlet to us!” repeated Pecson disdainfully. “But afterwards?”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval seemed to be cut short in his triumph, but with the vivacity peculiar to
+his race and his oratorical temperament he had an immediate reply.
+</p>
+<p>“Afterwards?” he asked. “Afterwards, if none of the Filipinos dare to accept the challenge,
+then I, Sandoval, in the name of Spain, will take up the gauntlet, because such a
+policy would give the lie to the good intentions that she has always cherished toward
+her provinces, and because <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2409">[<a href="#xd32e2409">135</a>]</span>he who is thus faithless to the trust reposed in him and abuses his unlimited authority
+deserves neither the protection of the fatherland nor the support of any Spanish citizen!”
+</p>
+<p>The enthusiasm of his hearers broke all bounds. Isagani embraced him, the others following
+his example. They talked of the fatherland, of union, of fraternity, of fidelity.
+The Filipinos declared that if there were only Sandovals in Spain all would be Sandovals
+in the Philippines. His eyes glistened, and it might well be believed that if at that
+moment any kind of gauntlet had been flung at him he would have leaped upon any kind
+of horse to ride to death for the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p>The “cold water” alone replied: “Good, that’s very good, Sandoval. I could also say
+the same if I were a Peninsular, but not being one, if I should say one half of what
+you have, you yourself would take me for a filibuster.”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval began a speech in protest, but was interrupted.
+</p>
+<p>“Rejoice, friends, rejoice! Victory!” cried a youth who entered at that moment and
+began to embrace everybody.
+</p>
+<p>“Rejoice, friends! Long live the Castilian tongue!”
+</p>
+<p>An outburst of applause greeted this announcement. They fell to embracing one another
+and their eyes filled with tears. Pecson alone preserved his skeptical smile.
+</p>
+<p>The bearer of such good news was Makaraig, the young man at the head of the movement.
+This student occupied in that house, by himself, two rooms, luxuriously furnished,
+and had his servant and a cochero to look after his carriage and horses. He was of
+robust carriage, of refined manners, fastidiously dressed, and very rich. Although
+studying law only that he might have an academic degree, he enjoyed a reputation for
+diligence, and as a logician in the scholastic way had no cause to envy the most frenzied
+quibblers of the University faculty. Nevertheless he was not very far behind in regard
+to modern ideas and progress, for his fortune enabled him to have all the books and
+magazines that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2419">[<a href="#xd32e2419">136</a>]</span>a watchful censor was unable to keep out. With these qualifications and his reputation
+for courage, his fortunate associations in his earlier years, and his refined and
+delicate courtesy, it was not strange that he should exercise such great influence
+over his associates and that he should have been chosen to carry out such a difficult
+undertaking as that of the instruction in Castilian.
+</p>
+<p>After the first outburst of enthusiasm, which in youth always takes hold in such exaggerated
+forms, since youth finds everything beautiful, they wanted to be informed how the
+affair had been managed.
+</p>
+<p>“I saw Padre Irene this morning,” said Makaraig with a certain air of mystery.
+</p>
+<p>“Hurrah for Padre Irene!” cried an enthusiastic student.
+</p>
+<p>“Padre Irene,” continued Makaraig, “has told me about everything that took place at
+Los Baños. It seems that they disputed for at least a week, he supporting and defending
+our case against all of them, against Padre Sibyla, Padre Fernandez, Padre Salvi,
+the General, the jeweler Simoun—”
+</p>
+<p>“The jeweler Simoun!” interrupted one of his listeners. “What has that Jew to do with
+the affairs of our country? We enrich him by buying—”
+</p>
+<p>“Keep quiet!” admonished another impatiently, anxious to learn how Padre Irene had
+been able to overcome such formidable opponents.
+</p>
+<p>“There were even high officials who were opposed to our project, the Head Secretary,
+the Civil Governor, Quiroga the Chinaman—”
+</p>
+<p>“Quiroga the Chinaman! The pimp of the—”
+</p>
+<p>“Shut up!”
+</p>
+<p>“At last,” resumed Makaraig, “they were going to pigeonhole the petition and let it
+sleep for months and months, when Padre Irene remembered the Superior Commission of
+Primary Instruction and proposed, since the matter concerned the teaching of the Castilian
+tongue, that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2433">[<a href="#xd32e2433">137</a>]</span>the petition be referred to that body for a report upon it.”
+</p>
+<p>“But that Commission hasn’t been in operation for a long time,” observed Pecson.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s exactly what they replied to Padre Irene, and he answered that this was a
+good opportunity to revive it, and availing himself of the presence of Don Custodio,
+one of its members, he proposed on the spot that a committee should be appointed.
+Don Custodio’s activity being known and recognized, he was named as arbiter and the
+petition is now in his hands. He promised that he would settle it this month.”
+</p>
+<p>“Hurrah for Don Custodio!”
+</p>
+<p>“But suppose Don Custodio should report unfavorably upon it?” inquired the pessimist
+Pecson.
+</p>
+<p>Upon this they had not reckoned, being intoxicated with the thought that the matter
+would not be pigeonholed, so they all turned to Makaraig to learn how it could be
+arranged.
+</p>
+<p>“The same objection I presented to Padre Irene, but with his sly smile he said to
+me: ‘We’ve won a great deal, we have succeeded in getting the matter on the road to
+a decision, the opposition sees itself forced to join battle.’ If we can bring some
+influence to bear upon Don Custodio so that he, in accordance with his liberal tendencies,
+may report favorably, all is won, for the General showed himself to be absolutely
+neutral.”
+</p>
+<p>Makaraig paused, and an impatient listener asked, “How can we influence him?”
+</p>
+<p>“Padre Irene pointed out to me two ways—”
+</p>
+<p>“Quiroga,” some one suggested.
+</p>
+<p>“Pshaw, great use Quiroga—”
+</p>
+<p>“A fine present.”
+</p>
+<p>“No, that won’t do, for he prides himself upon being incorruptible.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, yes, I know!” exclaimed Pecson with a laugh. “Pepay the dancing girl.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2450">[<a href="#xd32e2450">138</a>]</span>
+“Ah, yes, Pepay the dancing girl,” echoed several.
+</p>
+<p>This Pepay was a showy girl, supposed to be a great friend of Don Custodio. To her
+resorted the contractors, the employees, the intriguers, when they wanted to get something
+from the celebrated councilor. Juanito Pelaez, who was also a great friend of the
+dancing girl, offered to look after the matter, but Isagani shook his head, saying
+that it was sufficient that they had made use of Padre Irene and that it would be
+going too far to avail themselves of Pepay in such an affair.
+</p>
+<p>“Show us the other way.”
+</p>
+<p>“The other way is to apply to his attorney and adviser, Señor Pasta, the oracle before
+whom Don Custodio bows.”
+</p>
+<p>“I prefer that,” said Isagani. “Señor Pasta is a Filipino, and was a schoolmate of
+my uncle’s. But how can we interest him?”
+</p>
+<p>“There’s the <i>quid</i>,” replied Makaraig, looking earnestly at Isagani. “Señor Pasta has a dancing girl—I
+mean, a seamstress.”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani again shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t be such a puritan,” Juanito Pelaez said to him. “The end justifies the means!
+I know the seamstress, Matea, for she has a shop where a lot of girls work.”
+</p>
+<p>“No, gentlemen,” declared Isagani, “let’s first employ decent methods. I’ll go to
+Señor Pasta and, if I don’t accomplish anything, then you can do what you wish with
+the dancing girls and seamstresses.”
+</p>
+<p>They had to accept this proposition, agreeing that Isagani should talk to Señor Pasta
+that very day, and in the afternoon report to his associates at the University the
+result of the interview.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2466">[<a href="#xd32e2466">139</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2311">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2311src">1</a></span> <i>No cristianos</i>, not Christians, <i>i.e</i>., savages.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2311src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e353">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Señor Pasta</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Isagani presented himself in the house of the lawyer, one of the most talented minds
+in Manila, whom the friars consulted in their great difficulties. The youth had to
+wait some time on account of the numerous clients, but at last his turn came and he
+entered the office, or <i>bufete</i>, as it is generally called in the Philippines. The lawyer received him with a slight
+cough, looking down furtively at his feet, but he did not rise or offer a seat, as
+he went on writing. This gave Isagani an opportunity for observation and careful study
+of the lawyer, who had aged greatly. His hair was gray and his baldness extended over
+nearly the whole crown of his head. His countenance was sour and austere.
+</p>
+<p>There was complete silence in the study, except for the whispers of the clerks and
+understudies who were at work in an adjoining room. Their pens scratched as though
+quarreling with the paper.
+</p>
+<p>At length the lawyer finished what he was writing, laid down his pen, raised his head,
+and, recognizing the youth, let his face light up with a smile as he extended his
+hand affectionately.
+</p>
+<p>“Welcome, young man! But sit down, and excuse me, for I didn’t know that it was you.
+How is your uncle?”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani took courage, believing that his case would get on well. He related briefly
+what had been done, the while studying the effect of his words. Señor Pasta listened
+impassively at first and, although he was informed of the efforts of the students,
+pretended ignorance, as if to show that he had nothing to do with such childish matters,
+but when he began to suspect what was wanted of him and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2480">[<a href="#xd32e2480">140</a>]</span>heard mention of the Vice-Rector, friars, the Captain-General, a project, and so on,
+his face slowly darkened and he finally exclaimed, “This is the land of projects!
+But go on, go on!”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani was not yet discouraged. He spoke of the manner in which a decision was to
+be reached and concluded with an expression of the confidence which the young men
+entertained that he, Señor Pasta, would <i>intercede</i> in their behalf in case Don Custodio should consult him, as was to be expected. He
+did not dare to say would <i>advise</i>, deterred by the wry face the lawyer put on.
+</p>
+<p>But Señor Pasta had already formed his resolution, and it was not to mix at all in
+the affair, either as consulter or consulted. He was familiar with what had occurred
+at Los Baños, he knew that there existed two factions, and that Padre Irene was not
+the only champion on the side of the students, nor had he been the one who proposed
+submitting the petition to the Commission of Primary Instruction, but quite the contrary.
+Padre Irene, Padre Fernandez, the Countess, a merchant who expected to sell the materials
+for the new academy, and the high official who had been citing royal decree after
+royal decree, were about to triumph, when Padre Sibyla, wishing to gain time, had
+thought of the Commission. All these facts the great lawyer had present in his mind,
+so that when Isagani had finished speaking, he determined to confuse him with evasions,
+tangle the matter up, and lead the conversation to other subjects.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” he said, pursing his lips and scratching his head, “there is no one who surpasses
+me in love for the country and in aspirations toward progress, but—I can’t compromise
+myself, I don’t know whether you clearly understand my position, a position that is
+very delicate, I have so many interests, I have to labor within the limits of strict
+prudence, it’s a risk—”
+</p>
+<p>The lawyer sought to bewilder the youth with an exuberance of words, so he went on
+speaking of laws and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2492">[<a href="#xd32e2492">141</a>]</span>decrees, and talked so much that instead of confusing the youth, he came very near
+to entangling himself in a labyrinth of citations.
+</p>
+<p>“In no way do we wish to compromise you,” replied Isagani with great calmness. “God
+deliver us from injuring in the least the persons whose lives are so useful to the
+rest of the Filipinos! But, as little versed as I may be in the laws, royal decrees,
+writs, and resolutions that obtain in this country, I can’t believe that there can
+be any harm in furthering the high purposes of the government, in trying to secure
+a proper interpretation of these purposes. We are seeking the same end and differ
+only about the means.”
+</p>
+<p>The lawyer smiled, for the youth had allowed himself to wander away from the subject,
+and there where the former was going to entangle him he had already entangled himself.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s exactly the <i>quid</i>, as is vulgarly said. It’s clear that it is laudable to aid the government, when
+one aids it submissively, following out its desires and the true spirit of the laws
+in agreement with the just beliefs of the governing powers, and when not in contradiction
+to the fundamental and general way of thinking of the persons to whom is intrusted
+the common welfare of the individuals that form a social organism. Therefore, it is
+criminal, it is punishable, because it is offensive to the high principle of authority,
+to attempt any action contrary to its initiative, even supposing it to be better than
+the governmental proposition, because such action would injure its prestige, which
+is the elementary basis upon which all colonial edifices rest.”
+</p>
+<p>Confident that this broadside had at least stunned Isagani, the old lawyer fell back
+in his armchair, outwardly very serious, but laughing to himself.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani, however, ventured to reply. “I should think that governments, the more they
+are threatened, would be all the more careful to seek bases that are impregnable.
+The basis of prestige for colonial governments is the weakest <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2504">[<a href="#xd32e2504">142</a>]</span>of all, since it does not depend upon themselves but upon the consent of the governed,
+while the latter are willing to recognize it. The basis of justice or reason would
+seem to be the most durable.”
+</p>
+<p>The lawyer raised his head. How was this—did that youth dare to reply and argue with
+him, <i>him</i>, Señor Pasta? Was he not yet bewildered with his big words?
+</p>
+<p>“Young man, you must put those considerations aside, for they are dangerous,” he declared
+with a wave of his hand. “What I advise is that you let the government attend to its
+own business.”
+</p>
+<p>“Governments are established for the welfare of the peoples, and in order to accomplish
+this purpose properly they have to follow the suggestions of the citizens, who are
+the ones best qualified to understand their own needs.”
+</p>
+<p>“Those who constitute the government are also citizens, and among the most enlightened.”
+</p>
+<p>“But, being men, they are fallible, and ought not to disregard the opinions of others.”
+</p>
+<p>“They must be trusted, they have to attend to everything.”
+</p>
+<p>“There is a Spanish proverb which says, ‘No tears, no milk,’ in other words, ‘To him
+who does not ask, nothing is given.’ ”
+</p>
+<p>“Quite the reverse,” replied the lawyer with a sarcastic smile; “with the government
+exactly the reverse occurs—”
+</p>
+<p>But he suddenly checked himself, as if he had said too much and wished to correct
+his imprudence. “The government has given us things that we have not asked for, and
+that we could not ask for, because to ask—to ask, presupposes that it is in some way
+incompetent and consequently is not performing its functions. To suggest to it a course
+of action, to try to guide it, when not really antagonizing it, is to presuppose that
+it is capable of erring, and as I have already said to you such suppositions are menaces
+to the existence of colonial governments. The common crowd overlooks this and the
+young men who set to work thoughtlessly <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2520">[<a href="#xd32e2520">143</a>]</span>do not know, do not comprehend, do not try to comprehend the counter-effect of asking,
+the menace to order there is in that idea—”
+</p>
+<p>“Pardon me,” interrupted Isagani, offended by the arguments the jurist was using with
+him, “but when by legal methods people ask a government for something, it is because
+they think it good and disposed to grant a blessing, and such action, instead of irritating
+it, should flatter it —to the mother one appeals, never to the stepmother. The government,
+in my humble opinion, is not an omniscient being that can see and anticipate everything,
+and even if it could, it ought not to feel offended, for here you have the church
+itself doing nothing but asking and begging of God, who sees and knows everything,
+and you yourself ask and demand many things in the courts of this same government,
+yet neither God nor the courts have yet taken offense. Every one realizes that the
+government, being the human institution that it is, needs the support of all the people,
+it needs to be made to see and feel the reality of things. You yourself are not convinced
+of the truth of your objection, you yourself know that it is a tyrannical and despotic
+government which, in order to make a display of force and independence, denies everything
+through fear or distrust, and that the tyrannized and enslaved peoples are the only
+ones whose duty it is never to ask for anything. A people that hates its government
+ought to ask for nothing but that it abdicate its power.”
+</p>
+<p>The old lawyer grimaced and shook his head from side to side, in sign of discontent,
+while he rubbed his hand over his bald pate and said in a tone of condescending pity:
+“Ahem! those are bad doctrines, bad theories, ahem! How plain it is that you are young
+and inexperienced in life. Look what is happening with the inexperienced young men
+who in Madrid are asking for so many reforms. They are accused of filibusterism, many
+of them don’t dare return here, and yet, what are they asking for? Things holy, ancient,
+and recognized as quite harmless. But there <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2525">[<a href="#xd32e2525">144</a>]</span>are matters that can’t be explained, they’re so delicate. Let’s see—I confess to you
+that there are other reasons besides those expressed that might lead a sensible government
+to deny systematically the wishes of the people—no—but it may happen that we find
+ourselves under rulers so fatuous and ridiculous—but there are always other reasons,
+even though what is asked be quite just—different governments encounter different
+conditions—”
+</p>
+<p>The old man hesitated, stared fixedly at Isagani, and then with a sudden resolution
+made a sign with his hand as though he would dispel some idea.
+</p>
+<p>“I can guess what you mean,” said Isagani, smiling sadly. “You mean that a colonial
+government, for the very reason that it is imperfectly constituted and that it is
+based on premises—”
+</p>
+<p>“No, no, not that, no!” quickly interrupted the old lawyer, as he sought for something
+among his papers. “No, I meant—but where are my spectacles?”
+</p>
+<p>“There they are,” replied Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>The old man put them on and pretended to look over some papers, but seeing that the
+youth was waiting, he mumbled, “I wanted to tell you something, I wanted to say—but
+it has slipped from my mind. You interrupted me in your eagerness—but it was an insignificant
+matter. If you only knew what a whirl my head is in, I have so much to do!”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani understood that he was being dismissed. “So,” he said, rising, “we—”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, you will do well to leave the matter in the hands of the government, which will
+settle it as it sees fit. You say that the Vice-Rector is opposed to the teaching
+of Castilian. Perhaps he may be, not as to the fact but as to the form. It is said
+that the Rector who is on his way will bring a project for reform in education. Wait
+a while, give time a chance, apply yourself to your studies as the examinations are
+near, and—<i>carambas!</i>—you who already speak Castilian and express yourself easily, what <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2538">[<a href="#xd32e2538">145</a>]</span>are you bothering yourself about? What interest have you in seeing it specially taught?
+Surely Padre Florentino thinks as I do! Give him my regards.”
+</p>
+<p>“My uncle,” replied Isagani, “has always admonished me to think of others as much
+as of myself. I didn’t come for myself, I came in the name of those who are in worse
+condition.”
+</p>
+<p>“What the devil! Let them do as you have done, let them singe their eyebrows studying
+and come to be bald like myself, stuffing whole paragraphs into their memories! I
+believe that if you talk Spanish it is because you have studied it—you’re not of Manila
+or of Spanish parents! Then let them learn it as you have, and do as I have done:
+I’ve been a servant to all the friars, I’ve prepared their chocolate, and while with
+my right hand I stirred it, with the left I held a grammar, I learned, and, thank
+God! have never needed other teachers or academies or permits from the government.
+Believe me, he who wishes to learn, learns and becomes wise!”
+</p>
+<p>“But how many among those who wish to learn come to be what you are? One in ten thousand,
+and more!”
+</p>
+<p>“Pish! Why any more?” retorted the old man, shrugging his shoulders. “There are too
+many lawyers now, many of them become mere clerks. Doctors? They insult and abuse
+one another, and even kill each other in competition for a patient. Laborers, sir,
+laborers, are what we need, for agriculture!”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani realized that he was losing time, but still could not forbear replying: “Undoubtedly,
+there are many doctors and lawyers, but I won’t say there are too many, since we have
+towns that lack them entirely, and if they do abound in quantity, perhaps they are
+deficient in quality. Since the young men can’t be prevented from studying, and no
+other professions are open to us, why let them waste their time and effort? And if
+the instruction, deficient as it is, does not keep many from becoming lawyers and
+doctors, if we must finally have them, why not have good <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2546">[<a href="#xd32e2546">146</a>]</span>ones? After all, even if the sole wish is to make the country a country of farmers
+and laborers, and condemn in it all intellectual activity, I don’t see any evil in
+enlightening those same farmers and laborers, in giving them at least an education
+that will aid them in perfecting themselves and in perfecting their work, in placing
+them in a condition to understand many things of which they are at present ignorant.”
+</p>
+<p>“Bah, bah, bah!” exclaimed the lawyer, drawing circles in the air with his hand to
+dispel the ideas suggested. “To be a good farmer no great amount of rhetoric is needed.
+Dreams, illusions, fancies! Eh, will you take a piece of advice?”
+</p>
+<p>He arose and placed his hand affectionately on the youth’s shoulder, as he continued:
+“I’m going to give you one, and a very good one, because I see that you are intelligent
+and the advice will not be wasted. You’re going to study medicine? Well, confine yourself
+to learning how to put on plasters and apply leeches, and don’t ever try to improve
+or impair the condition of your kind. When you become a licentiate, marry a rich and
+devout girl, try to make cures and charge well, shun everything that has any relation
+to the general state of the country, attend mass, confession, and communion when the
+rest do, and you will see afterwards how you will thank me, and I shall see it, if
+I am still alive. Always remember that charity begins at home, for man ought not to
+seek on earth more than the greatest amount of happiness for himself, as Bentham says.
+If you involve yourself in quixotisms you will have no career, nor will you get married,
+nor will you ever amount to anything. All will abandon you, your own countrymen will
+be the first to laugh at your simplicity. Believe me, you will remember me and see
+that I am right, when you have gray hairs like myself, gray hairs such as these!”
+</p>
+<p>Here the old lawyer stroked his scanty white hair, as he smiled sadly and shook his
+head.
+</p>
+<p>“When I have gray hairs like those, sir,” replied Isagani <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2553">[<a href="#xd32e2553">147</a>]</span>with equal sadness, “and turn my gaze back over my past and see that I have worked
+only for myself, without having done what I plainly could and should have done for
+the country that has given me everything, for the citizens that have helped me to
+live—then, sir, every gray hair will be a thorn, and instead of rejoicing, they will
+shame me!”
+</p>
+<p>So saying, he took his leave with a profound bow. The lawyer remained motionless in
+his place, with an amazed look on his face. He listened to the footfalls that gradually
+died away, then resumed his seat.
+</p>
+<p>“Poor boy!” he murmured, “similar thoughts also crossed my mind once! What more could
+any one desire than to be able to say: ‘I have done this for the good of the fatherland,
+I have consecrated my life to the welfare of others!’ A crown of laurel, steeped in
+aloes, dry leaves that cover thorns and worms! That is not life, that does not get
+us our daily bread, nor does it bring us honors— the laurel would hardly serve for
+a salad, nor produce ease, nor aid us in winning lawsuits, but quite the reverse!
+Every country has its code of ethics, as it has its climate and its diseases, different
+from the climate and the diseases of other countries.”
+</p>
+<p>After a pause, he added: “Poor boy! If all should think and act as he does, I don’t
+say but that—Poor boy! Poor Florentino!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2560">[<a href="#xd32e2560">148</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e363">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XVI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Tribulations of a Chinese</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">In the evening of that same Saturday, Quiroga, the Chinese, who aspired to the creation
+of a consulate for his nation, gave a dinner in the rooms over his bazaar, located
+in the Escolta. His feast was well attended: friars, government employees, soldiers,
+merchants, all of them his customers, partners or patrons, were to be seen there,
+for his store supplied the curates and the conventos with all their necessities, he
+accepted the chits of all the employees, and he had servants who were discreet, prompt,
+and complaisant. The friars themselves did not disdain to pass whole hours in his
+store, sometimes in view of the public, sometimes in the chambers with agreeable company.
+</p>
+<p>That night, then, the sala presented a curious aspect, being filled with friars and
+clerks seated on Vienna chairs, stools of black wood, and marble benches of Cantonese
+origin, before little square tables, playing cards or conversing among themselves,
+under the brilliant glare of the gilt chandeliers or the subdued light of the Chinese
+lanterns, which were brilliantly decorated with long silken tassels. On the walls
+there was a lamentable medley of landscapes in dim and gaudy colors, painted in Canton
+or Hongkong, mingled with tawdry chromos of odalisks, half-nude women, effeminate
+lithographs of Christ, the deaths of the just and of the sinners—made by Jewish houses
+in Germany to be sold in the Catholic countries. Nor were there lacking the Chinese
+prints on red paper representing a man seated, of venerable aspect, with a calm, smiling
+face, behind whom stood a servant, ugly, horrible, diabolical, threatening, armed
+with a lance having a wide, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2568">[<a href="#xd32e2568">149</a>]</span>keen blade. Among the Indians some call this figure Mohammed, others Santiago,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2570src" href="#xd32e2570">1</a> we do not know why, nor do the Chinese themselves give a very clear explanation of
+this popular pair. The pop of champagne corks, the rattle of glasses, laughter, cigar
+smoke, and that odor peculiar to a Chinese habitation—a mixture of punk, opium, and
+dried fruits—completed the collection.
+</p>
+<p>Dressed as a Chinese mandarin in a blue-tasseled cap, Quiroga moved from room to room,
+stiff and straight, but casting watchful glances here and there as though to assure
+himself that nothing was being stolen. Yet in spite of this natural distrust, he exchanged
+handshakes with each guest, greeted some with a smile sagacious and humble, others
+with a patronizing air, and still others with a certain shrewd look that seemed to
+say, “I know! You didn’t come on my account, you came for the dinner!”
+</p>
+<p>And Quiroga was right! That fat gentleman who is now praising him and speaking of
+the advisability of a Chinese consulate in Manila, intimating that to manage it there
+could be no one but Quiroga, is the Señor Gonzalez who hides behind the pseudonym
+<i>Pitilí</i> when he attacks Chinese immigration through the columns of the newspapers. That other,
+an elderly man who closely examines the lamps, pictures, and other furnishings with
+grimaces and ejaculations of disdain, is Don Timoteo Pelaez, Juanito’s father, a merchant
+who inveighs against the Chinese competition that is ruining his business. The one
+over there, that thin, brown individual with a sharp look and a pale smile, is the
+celebrated originator of the dispute over Mexican pesos, which so troubled one of
+Quiroga’s protéges: that government clerk is regarded in Manila as very clever. That
+one farther on, he of the frowning look and unkempt mustache, is a government official
+who passes for a most meritorious fellow because he has the courage to speak ill of
+the business in lottery tickets carried on between Quiroga <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2578">[<a href="#xd32e2578">150</a>]</span>and an exalted dame in Manila society. The fact is that two thirds of the tickets
+go to China and the few that are left in Manila are sold at a premium of a half-real.
+The honorable gentleman entertains the conviction that some day he will draw the first
+prize, and is in a rage at finding himself confronted with such tricks.
+</p>
+<p>The dinner, meanwhile, was drawing to an end. From the dining-room floated into the
+sala snatches of toasts, interruptions, bursts and ripples of laughter. The name of
+Quiroga was often heard mingled with the words “consul,” “equality,” “justice.” The
+amphitryon himself did not eat European dishes, so he contented himself with drinking
+a glass of wine with his guests from time to time, promising to dine with those who
+were not seated at the first table.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun, who was present, having already dined, was in the sala talking with some merchants,
+who were complaining of business conditions: everything was going wrong, trade was
+paralyzed, the European exchanges were exorbitantly high. They sought information
+from the jeweler or insinuated to him a few ideas, with the hope that these would
+be communicated to the Captain-General. To all the remedies suggested Simoun responded
+with a sarcastic and unfeeling exclamation about nonsense, until one of them in exasperation
+asked him for his opinion.
+</p>
+<p>“My opinion?” he retorted. “Study how other nations prosper, and then do as they do.”
+</p>
+<p>“And why do they prosper, Señor Simoun?”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>“The port works, which weigh so heavily upon commerce, and the port not yet completed!”
+sighed Don Timoteo Pelaez. “A Penelope’s web, as my son says, that is spun and unspun.
+The taxes—”
+</p>
+<p>“You complaining!” exclaimed another. “Just as the General has decreed the destruction
+of houses of light materials!<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2589src" href="#xd32e2589">2</a> And you with a shipment of galvanized iron!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2592">[<a href="#xd32e2592">151</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Yes,” rejoined Don Timoteo, “but look what that decree cost me! Then, the destruction
+will not be carried out for a month, not until Lent begins, and other shipments may
+arrive. I would have wished them destroyed right away, but—Besides, what are the owners
+of those houses going to buy from me if they are all poor, all equally beggars?”
+</p>
+<p>“You can always buy up their shacks for a trifle.”
+</p>
+<p>“And afterwards have the decree revoked and sell them back at double the price—that’s
+business!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun smiled his frigid smile. Seeing Quiroga approach, he left the querulous merchants
+to greet the future consul, who on catching sight of him lost his satisfied expression
+and assigned a countenance like those of the merchants, while he bent almost double.
+</p>
+<p>Quiroga respected the jeweler greatly, not only because he knew him to be very wealthy,
+but also on account of his rumored influence with the Captain-General. It was reported
+that Simoun favored Quiroga’s ambitions, that he was an advocate for the consulate,
+and a certain newspaper hostile to the Chinese had alluded to him in many paraphrases,
+veiled allusions, and suspension points, in the celebrated controversy with another
+sheet that was favorable to the queued folk. Some prudent persons added with winks
+and half-uttered words that his Black Eminence was advising the General to avail himself
+of the Chinese in order to humble the tenacious pride of the natives.
+</p>
+<p>“To hold the people in subjection,” he was reported to have said, “there’s nothing
+like humiliating them and humbling them in their own eyes.”
+</p>
+<p>To this end an opportunity had soon presented itself. The guilds of mestizos and natives
+were continually watching one another, venting their bellicose spirits and their activities
+in jealousy and distrust. At mass one day the gobernadorcillo of the natives was seated
+on a bench to the right, and, being extremely thin, happened to cross one of his legs
+over the other, thus adopting a nonchalant <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2601">[<a href="#xd32e2601">152</a>]</span>attitude, in order to expose his thighs more and display his pretty shoes. The gobernadorcillo
+of the guild of mestizos, who was seated on the opposite bench, as he had bunions,
+and could not cross his legs on account of his obesity, spread his legs wide apart
+to expose a plain waistcoat adorned with a beautiful gold chain set with diamonds.
+The two cliques comprehended these maneuvers and joined battle. On the following Sunday
+all the mestizos, even the thinnest, had large paunches and spread their legs wide
+apart as though on horseback, while the natives placed one leg over the other, even
+the fattest, there being one cabeza de barangay who turned a somersault. Seeing these
+movements, the Chinese all adopted their own peculiar attitude, that of sitting as
+they do in their shops, with one leg drawn back and upward, the other swinging loose.
+There resulted protests and petitions, the police rushed to arms ready to start a
+civil war, the curates rejoiced, the Spaniards were amused and made money out of everybody,
+until the General settled the quarrel by ordering that every one should sit as the
+Chinese did, since they were the heaviest contributors, even though they were not
+the best Catholics. The difficulty for the mestizos and natives then was that their
+trousers were too tight to permit of their imitating the Chinese. But to make the
+intention of humiliating them the more evident, the measure was carried out with great
+pomp and ceremony, the church being surrounded by a troop of cavalry, while all those
+within were sweating. The matter was carried to the Cortes, but it was repeated that
+the Chinese, as the ones who paid, should have their way in the religious ceremonies,
+even though they apostatized and laughed at Christianity immediately after. The natives
+and the mestizos had to be content, learning thus not to waste time over such fatuity.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2603src" href="#xd32e2603">3</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2615">[<a href="#xd32e2615">153</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Quiroga, with his smooth tongue and humble smile, was lavishly and flatteringly attentive
+to Simoun. His voice was caressing and his bows numerous, but the jeweler cut his
+blandishments short by asking brusquely:
+</p>
+<p>“Did the bracelets suit her?”
+</p>
+<p>At this question all Quiroga’s liveliness vanished like a dream. His caressing voice
+became plaintive; he bowed lower, gave the Chinese salutation of raising his clasped
+hands to the height of his face, and groaned: “Ah, Señor Simoun! I’m lost, I’m ruined!”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2621src" href="#xd32e2621">4</a>
+</p>
+<p>“How, Quiroga, lost and ruined when you have so many bottles of champagne and so many
+guests?”
+</p>
+<p>Quiroga closed his eyes and made a grimace. Yes, the affair of that afternoon, that
+affair of the bracelets, had ruined him. Simoun smiled, for when a Chinese merchant
+complains it is because all is going well, and when he makes a show that things are
+booming it is quite certain that he is planning an assignment or flight to his own
+country.
+</p>
+<p>“You didn’t know that I’m lost, I’m ruined? Ah, Señor Simoun, I’m <i>busted!</i>” To make his condition <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2634">[<a href="#xd32e2634">154</a>]</span>plainer, he illustrated the word by making a movement as though he were falling in
+collapse.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun wanted to laugh, but restrained himself and said that he knew nothing, nothing
+at all, as Quiroga led him to a room and closed the door. He then explained the cause
+of his misfortune.
+</p>
+<p>Three diamond bracelets that he had secured from Simoun on pretense of showing them
+to his wife were not for her, a poor native shut up in her room like a Chinese woman,
+but for a beautiful and charming lady, the friend of a powerful man, whose influence
+was needed by him in a certain deal in which he could clear some six thousand pesos.
+As he did not understand feminine tastes and wished to be gallant, the Chinese had
+asked for the three finest bracelets the jeweler had, each priced at three to four
+thousand pesos. With affected simplicity and his most caressing smile, Quiroga had
+begged the lady to select the one she liked best, and the lady, more simple and caressing
+still, had declared that she liked all three, and had kept them.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun burst out into laughter.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, sir, I’m lost, I’m ruined!” cried the Chinese, slapping himself lightly with
+his delicate hands; but the jeweler continued his laughter.
+</p>
+<p>“Ugh, bad people, surely not a real lady,” went on the Chinaman, shaking his head
+in disgust. “What! She has no decency, while me, a Chinaman, me always polite! Ah,
+surely she not a real lady—a <i>cigarrera</i> has more decency!”
+</p>
+<p>“They’ve caught you, they’ve caught you!” exclaimed Simoun, poking him in the chest.
+</p>
+<p>“And everybody’s asking for loans and never pays—what about that? Clerks, officials,
+lieutenants, soldiers—” he checked them off on his long-nailed fingers—“ah, Señor
+Simoun, I’m lost, I’m <i>busted</i>!”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out with your complaints,” said Simoun. “I’ve saved you from many officials that
+wanted money from you. I’ve lent it to them so that they wouldn’t bother you, even
+when I knew that they couldn’t pay.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2652">[<a href="#xd32e2652">155</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“But, Señor Simoun, you lend to officials; I lend to women, sailors, everybody.”
+</p>
+<p>“I bet you get your money back.”
+</p>
+<p>“Me, money back? Ah, surely you don’t understand! When it’s lost in gambling they
+never pay. Besides, you have a consul, you can force them, but I haven’t.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun became thoughtful. “Listen, Quiroga,” he said, somewhat abstractedly, “I’ll
+undertake to collect what the officers and sailors owe you. Give me their notes.”
+</p>
+<p>Quiroga again fell to whining: they had never given him any notes.
+</p>
+<p>“When they come to you asking for money, send them to me. I want to help you.”
+</p>
+<p>The grateful Quiroga thanked him, but soon fell to lamenting again about the bracelets.
+“A <i>cigarrera</i> wouldn’t be so shameless!” he repeated.
+</p>
+<p>“The devil!” exclaimed Simoun, looking askance at the Chinese, as though studying
+him. “Exactly when I need the money and thought that you could pay me! But it can
+all be arranged, as I don’t want you to fail for such a small amount. Come, a favor,
+and I’ll reduce to seven the nine thousand pesos you owe me. You can get anything
+you wish through the Customs—boxes of lamps, iron, copper, glassware, Mexican pesos—you
+furnish arms to the conventos, don’t you?”
+</p>
+<p>The Chinese nodded affirmation, but remarked that he had to do a good deal of bribing.
+“I furnish the padres everything!”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, then,” added Simoun in a low voice, “I need you to get in for me some boxes
+of rifles that arrived this evening. I want you to keep them in your warehouse; there
+isn’t room for all of them in my house.”
+</p>
+<p>Quiroga began to show symptoms of fright.
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t get scared, you don’t run any risk. These rifles are to be concealed, a few
+at a time, in various dwellings, then a search will be instituted, and many people
+will be <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2670">[<a href="#xd32e2670">156</a>]</span>sent to prison. You and I can make a haul getting them set free. Understand me?”
+</p>
+<p>Quiroga wavered, for he was afraid of firearms. In his desk he had an empty revolver
+that he never touched without turning his head away and closing his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>“If you can’t do it, I’ll have to apply to some one else, but then I’ll need the nine
+thousand pesos to cross their palms and shut their eyes.”
+</p>
+<p>“All right, all right!” Quiroga finally agreed. “But many people will be arrested?
+There’ll be a search, eh?”
+</p>
+<p>When Quiroga and Simoun returned to the sala they found there, in animated conversation,
+those who had finished their dinner, for the champagne had loosened their tongues
+and stirred their brains. They were talking rather freely.
+</p>
+<p>In a group where there were a number of government clerks, some ladies, and Don Custodio,
+the topic was a commission sent to India to make certain investigations about footwear
+for the soldiers.
+</p>
+<p>“Who compose it?” asked an elderly lady.
+</p>
+<p>“A colonel, two other officers, and his Excellency’s nephew.”
+</p>
+<p>“Four?” rejoined a clerk. “What a commission! Suppose they disagree—are they competent?”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s what I asked,” replied a clerk. “It’s said that one civilian ought to go,
+one who has no military prejudices—a shoemaker, for instance.”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s right,” added an importer of shoes, “but it wouldn’t do to send an Indian
+or a Chinaman, and the only Peninsular shoemaker demanded such large fees—”
+</p>
+<p>“But why do they have to make any investigations about footwear?” inquired the elderly
+lady. “It isn’t for the Peninsular artillerymen. The Indian soldiers can go barefoot,
+as they do in their towns.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2685src" href="#xd32e2685">5</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2688">[<a href="#xd32e2688">157</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Exactly so, and the treasury would save more,” corroborated another lady, a widow
+who was not satisfied with her pension.
+</p>
+<p>“But you must remember,” remarked another in the group, a friend of the officers on
+the commission, “that while it’s true they go barefoot in the towns, it’s not the
+same as moving about under orders in the service. They can’t choose the hour, nor
+the road, nor rest when they wish. Remember, madam, that, with the noonday sun overhead
+and the earth below baking like an oven, they have to march over sandy stretches,
+where there are stones, the sun above and fire below, bullets in front—”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s only a question of getting used to it!”
+</p>
+<p>“Like the donkey that got used to not eating! In our present campaign the greater
+part of our losses have been due to wounds on the soles of the feet. Remember the
+donkey, madam, remember the donkey!”
+</p>
+<p>“But, my dear sir,” retorted the lady, “look how much money is wasted on shoe-leather.
+There’s enough to pension many widows and orphans in order to maintain our prestige.
+Don’t smile, for I’m not talking about myself, and I have my pension, even though
+a very small one, insignificant considering the services my husband rendered, but
+I’m talking of others who are dragging out miserable lives! It’s not right that after
+so much persuasion to come and so many hardships in crossing the sea they should end
+here by dying of hunger. What you say about the soldiers may be true, but the fact
+is that I’ve been in the country more than three years, and I haven’t seen any soldier
+limping.”
+</p>
+<p>“In that I agree with the lady,” said her neighbor. “Why issue them shoes when they
+were born without them?”
+</p>
+<p>“And why shirts?”
+</p>
+<p>“And why trousers?”
+</p>
+<p>“Just calculate what we should economize on soldiers clothed only in their skins!”
+concluded he who was defending the army.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2699">[<a href="#xd32e2699">158</a>]</span></p>
+<p>In another group the conversation was more heated. Ben-Zayb was talking and declaiming,
+while Padre Camorra, as usual, was constantly interrupting him. The friar-journalist,
+in spite of his respect for the cowled gentry, was always at loggerheads with Padre
+Camorra, whom he regarded as a silly half-friar, thus giving himself the appearance
+of being independent and refuting the accusations of those who called him Fray Ibañez.
+Padre Camorra liked his adversary, as the latter was the only person who would take
+seriously what he styled his arguments. They were discussing magnetism, spiritualism,
+magic, and the like. Their words flew through the air like the knives and balls of
+jugglers, tossed back and forth from one to the other.
+</p>
+<p>That year great attention had been attracted in the Quiapo fair by a head, wrongly
+called a sphinx, exhibited by Mr. Leeds, an American. Glaring advertisements covered
+the walls of the houses, mysterious and funereal, to excite the curiosity of the public.
+Neither Ben-Zayb nor any of the padres had yet seen it; Juanito Pelaez was the only
+one who had, and he was describing his wonderment to the party.
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb, as a journalist, looked for a natural explanation. Padre Camorra talked
+of the devil, Padre Irene smiled, Padre Salvi remained grave.
+</p>
+<p>“But, Padre, the devil doesn’t need to come—we are sufficient to damn ourselves—”
+</p>
+<p>“It can’t be explained any other way.”
+</p>
+<p>“If science—”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out with science, <i>puñales</i>!”
+</p>
+<p>“But, listen to me and I’ll convince you. It’s all a question of optics. I haven’t
+yet seen the head nor do I know how it looks, but this gentleman”—indicating Juanito
+Pelaez—“tells us that it does not look like the talking heads that are usually exhibited.
+So be it! But the principle is the same—it’s all a question of optics. Wait! A mirror
+is placed thus, another mirror behind it, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2713">[<a href="#xd32e2713">159</a>]</span>the image is reflected—I say, it is purely a problem in physics.”
+</p>
+<p>Taking down from the walls several mirrors, he arranged them, turned them round and
+round, but, not getting the desired result, concluded: “As I say, it’s nothing more
+or less than a question of optics.”
+</p>
+<p>“But what do you want mirrors for, if Juanito tells us that the head is inside a box
+placed on the table? I see in it spiritualism, because the spiritualists always make
+use of tables, and I think that Padre Salvi, as the ecclesiastical governor, ought
+to prohibit the exhibition.”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Salvi remained silent, saying neither yes nor no.
+</p>
+<p>“In order to learn if there are devils or mirrors inside it,” suggested Simoun, “the
+best thing would be for you to go and see the famous sphinx.”
+</p>
+<p>The proposal was a good one, so it was accepted, although Padre Salvi and Don Custodio
+showed some repugnance. They at a fair, to rub shoulders with the public, to see sphinxes
+and talking heads! What would the natives say? These might take them for mere men,
+endowed with the same passions and weaknesses as others. But Ben-Zayb, with his journalistic
+ingenuity, promised to request Mr. Leeds not to admit the public while they were inside.
+They would be honoring him sufficiently by the visit not to admit of his refusal,
+and besides he would not charge any admission fee. To give a show of probability to
+this, he concluded: “Because, remember, if I should expose the trick of the mirrors
+to the public, it would ruin the poor American’s business.” Ben-Zayb was a conscientious
+individual.
+</p>
+<p>About a dozen set out, among them our acquaintances, Padres Salvi, Camorra, and Irene,
+Don Custodio, Ben-Zayb, and Juanito Pelaez. Their carriages set them down at the entrance
+to the Quiapo Plaza.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2723">[<a href="#xd32e2723">160</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2570">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2570src">1</a></span> The patron saint of Spain, St. James.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2570src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2589">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2589src">2</a></span> Houses of bamboo and nipa, such as form the homes of the masses of the natives.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2589src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2603">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2603src">3</a></span> “In this paragraph Rizal alludes to an incident that had very serious results. There
+was annually celebrated in Binondo a certain religious festival, principally at the
+expense of the Chinese mestizos. The latter finally petitioned that their gobernadorcillo
+be given the presidency <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2606">[<a href="#xd32e2606">153</a>]</span>of it, and this was granted, thanks to the fact that the parish priest (the Dominican,
+Fray José Hevia Campomanes) held to the opinion that the presidency belonged to those
+who paid the most. The Tagalogs protested, alleging their better right to it, as the
+genuine sons of the country, not to mention the historical precedent, but the friar,
+who was looking after his own interests, did not yield. General Terrero (Governor,
+1885–1888), at the advice of his liberal councilors, finally had the parish priest
+removed and for the time being decided the affair in favor of the Tagalogs. The matter
+reached the Colonial Office (<i lang="es">Ministerio de Ultramar</i>) and the Minister was not even content merely to settle it in the way the friars
+desired, but made amends to Padre Hevia by appointing him a bishop.”—<i>W.&nbsp;E. Retana, who was a journalist in Manila at the time, in a note to this chapter.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">Childish and ridiculous as this may appear now, it was far from being so at the time,
+especially in view of the supreme contempt with which the pugnacious Tagalog looks
+down upon the meek and complaisant Chinese and the mortal antipathy that exists between
+the two races.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2603src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2621">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2621src">4</a></span> It is regrettable that Quiroga’s picturesque butchery of Spanish and Tagalog—the dialect
+of the Manila Chinese—cannot be reproduced here. Only the thought can be given. There
+is the same difficulty with <i>r’s, d’s</i>, and <i>l’s</i> that the Chinese show in English.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2621src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2685">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2685src">5</a></span> Up to the outbreak of the insurrection in 1896, the only genuinely Spanish troops
+in the islands were a few hundred artillerymen, the rest being natives, with Spanish
+officers.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2685src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e373">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XVII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Quiapo Fair</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">It was a beautiful night and the plaza presented a most animated aspect. Taking advantage
+of the freshness of the breeze and the splendor of the January moon, the people filled
+the fair to see, be seen, and amuse themselves. The music of the cosmoramas and the
+lights of the lanterns gave life and merriment to every one. Long rows of booths,
+brilliant with tinsel and gauds, exposed to view clusters of balls, masks strung by
+the eyes, tin toys, trains, carts, mechanical horses, carriages, steam-engines with
+diminutive boilers, Lilliputian tableware of porcelain, pine Nativities, dolls both
+foreign and domestic, the former red and smiling, the latter sad and pensive like
+little ladies beside gigantic children. The beating of drums, the roar of tin horns,
+the wheezy music of the accordions and the hand-organs, all mingled in a carnival
+concert, amid the coming and going of the crowd, pushing, stumbling over one another,
+with their faces turned toward the booths, so that the collisions were frequent and
+often amusing. The carriages were forced to move slowly, with the <i>tabí</i> of the cocheros repeated every moment. Met and mingled government clerks, soldiers,
+friars, students, Chinese, girls with their mammas or aunts, all greeting, signaling,
+calling to one another merrily.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Camorra was in the seventh heaven at the sight of so many pretty girls. He stopped,
+looked back, nudged Ben-Zayb, chuckled and swore, saying, “And that one, and that
+one, my ink-slinger? And that one over there, what say you?” In his contentment he
+even fell to using the familiar <i>tu</i> toward his friend and adversary. Padre <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2736">[<a href="#xd32e2736">161</a>]</span>Salvi stared at him from time to time, but he took little note of Padre Salvi. On
+the contrary, he pretended to stumble so that he might brush against the girls, he
+winked and made eyes at them.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puñales!</i>” he kept saying to himself. “When shall I be the curate of Quiapo?”
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly Ben-Zayb let go an oath, jumped aside, and slapped his hand on his arm; Padre
+Camorra in his excess of enthusiasm had pinched him. They were approaching a dazzling
+señorita who was attracting the attention of the whole plaza, and Padre Camorra, unable
+to restrain his delight, had taken Ben-Zayb’s arm as a substitute for the girl’s.
+</p>
+<p>It was Paulita Gomez, the prettiest of the pretty, in company with Isagani, followed
+by Doña Victorina. The young woman was resplendent in her beauty: all stopped and
+craned their necks, while they ceased their conversation and followed her with their
+eyes—even Doña Victorina was respectfully saluted.
+</p>
+<p>Paulita was arrayed in a rich camisa and pañuelo of embroidered piña, different from
+those she had worn that morning to the church. The gauzy texture of the piña set off
+her shapely head, and the Indians who saw her compared her to the moon surrounded
+by fleecy clouds. A silk rose-colored skirt, caught up in rich and graceful folds
+by her little hand, gave majesty to her erect figure, the movement of which, harmonizing
+with her curving neck, displayed all the triumphs of vanity and satisfied coquetry.
+Isagani appeared to be rather disgusted, for so many curious eyes fixed upon the beauty
+of his sweetheart annoyed him. The stares seemed to him robbery and the girl’s smiles
+faithlessness.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito saw her and his hump increased when he spoke to her. Paulita replied negligently,
+while Doña Victorina called to him, for Juanito was her favorite, she preferring him
+to Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“What a girl, what a girl!” muttered the entranced Padre Camorra.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2748">[<a href="#xd32e2748">162</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Come, Padre, pinch yourself and let me alone,” said Ben-Zayb fretfully.
+</p>
+<p>“What a girl, what a girl!” repeated the friar. “And she has for a sweetheart a pupil
+of mine, the boy I had the quarrel with.”
+</p>
+<p>“Just my luck that she’s not of my town,” he added, after turning his head several
+times to follow her with his looks. He was even tempted to leave his companions to
+follow the girl, and Ben-Zayb had difficulty in dissuading him. Paulita’s beautiful
+figure moved on, her graceful little head nodding with inborn coquetry.
+</p>
+<p>Our promenaders kept on their way, not without sighs on the part of the friar-artilleryman,
+until they reached a booth surrounded by sightseers, who quickly made way for them.
+It was a shop of little wooden figures, of local manufacture, representing in all
+shapes and sizes the costumes, races, and occupations of the country: Indians, Spaniards,
+Chinese, mestizos, friars, clergymen, government clerks, gobernadorcillos, students,
+soldiers, and so on.
+</p>
+<p>Whether the artists had more affection for the priests, the folds of whose habits
+were better suited to their esthetic purposes, or whether the friars, holding such
+an important place in Philippine life, engaged the attention of the sculptor more,
+the fact was that, for one cause or another, images of them abounded, well-turned
+and finished, representing them in the sublimest moments of their lives—the opposite
+of what is done in Europe, where they are pictured as sleeping on casks of wine, playing
+cards, emptying tankards, rousing themselves to gaiety, or patting the cheeks of a
+buxom girl. No, the friars of the Philippines were different: elegant, handsome, well-dressed,
+their tonsures neatly shaven, their features symmetrical and serene, their gaze meditative,
+their expression saintly, somewhat rosy-cheeked, cane in hand and patent-leather shoes
+on their feet, inviting adoration and a place in a glass case. Instead of the symbols
+of gluttony and incontinence of their brethren in <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2756">[<a href="#xd32e2756">163</a>]</span>Europe, those of Manila carried the book, the crucifix, and the palm of martyrdom;
+instead of kissing the simple country lasses, those of Manila gravely extended the
+hand to be kissed by children and grown men doubled over almost to kneeling; instead
+of the full refectory and dining-hall, their stage in Europe, in Manila they had the
+oratory, the study-table; instead of the mendicant friar who goes from door to door
+with his donkey and sack, begging alms, the friars of the Philippines scattered gold
+from full hands among the miserable Indians.
+</p>
+<p>“Look, here’s Padre Camorra!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb, upon whom the effect of the champagne
+still lingered. He pointed to a picture of a lean friar of thoughtful mien who was
+seated at a table with his head resting on the palm of his hand, apparently writing
+a sermon by the light of a lamp. The contrast suggested drew laughter from the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Camorra, who had already forgotten about Paulita, saw what was meant and laughing
+his clownish laugh, asked in turn, “Whom does this other figure resemble, Ben-Zayb?”
+</p>
+<p>It was an old woman with one eye, with disheveled hair, seated on the ground like
+an Indian idol, ironing clothes. The sad-iron was carefully imitated, being of copper
+with coals of red tinsel and smoke-wreaths of dirty twisted cotton.
+</p>
+<p>“Eh, Ben-Zayb, it wasn’t a fool who designed that” asked Padre Camorra with a laugh.
+</p>
+<p>“Well, I don’t see the point,” replied the journalist.
+</p>
+<p>“But, <i>puñales</i>, don’t you see the title, <i>The Philippine Press</i>? That utensil with which the old woman is ironing is here called the press!”
+</p>
+<p>All laughed at this, Ben-Zayb himself joining in good-naturedly.
+</p>
+<p>Two soldiers of the Civil Guard, appropriately labeled, were placed behind a man who
+was tightly bound and had his face covered by his hat. It was entitled <i>The Country of <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2775">[<a href="#xd32e2775">164</a>]</span>Abaka</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2778src" href="#xd32e2778">1</a> and from appearances they were going to shoot him.
+</p>
+<p>Many of our visitors were displeased with the exhibition. They talked of rules of
+art, they sought proportion—one said that this figure did not have seven heads, that
+the face lacked a nose, having only three, all of which made Padre Camorra somewhat
+thoughtful, for he did not comprehend how a figure, to be correct, need have four
+noses and seven heads. Others said, if they were muscular, that they could not be
+Indians; still others remarked that it was not sculpture, but mere carpentry. Each
+added his spoonful of criticism, until Padre Camorra, not to be outdone, ventured
+to ask for at least thirty legs for each doll, because, if the others wanted noses,
+couldn’t he require feet? So they fell to discussing whether the Indian had or had
+not any aptitude for sculpture, and whether it would be advisable to encourage that
+art, until there arose a general dispute, which was cut short by Don Custodio’s declaration
+that the Indians had the aptitude, but that they should devote themselves exclusively
+to the manufacture of saints.
+</p>
+<p>“One would say,” observed Ben-Zayb, who was full of bright ideas that night, “that
+this Chinaman is Quiroga, but on close examination it looks like Padre Irene. And
+what do you say about that British Indian? He looks like Simoun!”
+</p>
+<p>Fresh peals of laughter resounded, while Padre Irene rubbed his nose.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s right!”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s the very image of him!”
+</p>
+<p>“But where is Simoun? Simoun should buy it.”
+</p>
+<p>But the jeweler had disappeared, unnoticed by any one.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Puñales!</i>” exclaimed Padre Camorra, “how stingy the American is! He’s afraid we would make
+him pay the admission for all of us into Mr. Leeds’ show.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2794">[<a href="#xd32e2794">165</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“No!” rejoined Ben-Zayb, “what he’s afraid of is that he’ll compromise himself. He
+may have foreseen the joke in store for his friend Mr. Leeds and has got out of the
+way.”
+</p>
+<p>Thus, without purchasing the least trifle, they continued on their way to see the
+famous sphinx. Ben-Zayb offered to manage the affair, for the American would not rebuff
+a journalist who could take revenge in an unfavorable article. “You’ll see that it’s
+all a question of mirrors,” he said, “because, you see—” Again he plunged into a long
+demonstration, and as he had no mirrors at hand to discredit his theory he tangled
+himself up in all kinds of blunders and wound up by not knowing himself what he was
+saying. “In short, you’ll see how it’s all a question of optics.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2798">[<a href="#xd32e2798">166</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2778">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2778src">1</a></span> Abaka is the fiber obtained from the leaves of the <i>Musa textilis</i> and is known commercially as Manila hemp. As it is exclusively a product of the Philippines,
+it may be taken here to symbolize the country.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2778src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch18" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e383">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XVIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Legerdemain</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Mr. Leeds, a genuine Yankee, dressed completely in black, received his visitors with
+great deference. He spoke Spanish well, from having been for many years in South America,
+and offered no objection to their request, saying that they might examine everything,
+both before and after the exhibition, but begged that they remain quiet while it was
+in progress. Ben-Zayb smiled in pleasant anticipation of the vexation he had prepared
+for the American.
+</p>
+<p>The room, hung entirely in black, was lighted by ancient lamps burning alcohol. A
+rail wrapped in black velvet divided it into two almost equal parts, one of which
+was filled with seats for the spectators and the other occupied by a platform covered
+with a checkered carpet. In the center of this platform was placed a table, over which
+was spread a piece of black cloth adorned with skulls and cabalistic signs. The <i>mise en scène</i> was therefore lugubrious and had its effect upon the merry visitors. The jokes died
+away, they spoke in whispers, and however much some tried to appear indifferent, their
+lips framed no smiles. All felt as if they had entered a house where there was a corpse,
+an illusion accentuated by an odor of wax and incense. Don Custodio and Padre Salvi
+consulted in whispers over the expediency of prohibiting such shows.
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb, in order to cheer the dispirited group and embarrass Mr. Leeds, said to
+him in a familiar tone: “Eh, Mister, since there are none but ourselves here and we
+aren’t Indians who can be fooled, won’t you let us see <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2810">[<a href="#xd32e2810">167</a>]</span>the trick? We know of course that it’s purely a question of optics, but as Padre Camorra
+won’t be convinced—”
+</p>
+<p>Here he started to jump over the rail, instead of going through the proper opening,
+while Padre Camorra broke out into protests, fearing that Ben-Zayb might be right.
+</p>
+<p>“And why not, sir?” rejoined the American. “But don’t break anything, will you?”
+</p>
+<p>The journalist was already on the platform. “You will allow me, then?” he asked, and
+without waiting for the permission, fearing that it might not be granted, raised the
+cloth to look for the mirrors that he expected should be between the legs of the table.
+Ben-Zayb uttered an exclamation and stepped back, again placed both hands under the
+table and waved them about; he encountered only empty space. The table had three thin
+iron legs, sunk into the floor.
+</p>
+<p>The journalist looked all about as though seeking something.
+</p>
+<p>“Where are the mirrors?” asked Padre Camorra.
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb looked and looked, felt the table with his fingers, raised the cloth again,
+and rubbed his hand over his forehead from time to time, as if trying to remember
+something.
+</p>
+<p>“Have you lost anything?” inquired Mr. Leeds.
+</p>
+<p>“The mirrors, Mister, where are the mirrors?”
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t know where yours are—mine are at the hotel. Do you want to look at yourself?
+You’re somewhat pale and excited.”
+</p>
+<p>Many laughed, in spite of their weird impressions, on seeing the jesting coolness
+of the American, while Ben-Zayb retired, quite abashed, to his seat, muttering, “It
+can’t be. You’ll see that he doesn’t do it without mirrors. The table will have to
+be changed later.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Leeds placed the cloth on the table again and turning toward his illustrious audience,
+asked them, “Are you satisfied? May we begin?”
+</p>
+<p>“Hurry up! How cold-blooded he is!” said the widow.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2826">[<a href="#xd32e2826">168</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Then, ladies and gentlemen, take your seats and get your questions ready.”
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Leeds disappeared through a doorway and in a few moments returned with a black
+box of worm-eaten wood, covered with inscriptions in the form of birds, beasts, and
+human heads.
+</p>
+<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began solemnly, “once having had occasion to visit the
+great pyramid of Khufu, a Pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, I chanced upon a sarcophagus
+of red granite in a forgotten chamber. My joy was great, for I thought that I had
+found a royal mummy, but what was my disappointment on opening the coffin, at the
+cost of infinite labor, to find nothing more than this box, which you may examine.”
+</p>
+<p>He handed the box to those in the front row. Padre Camorra drew back in loathing,
+Padre Salvi looked at it closely as if he enjoyed sepulchral things, Padre Irene smiled
+a knowing smile, Don Custodio affected gravity and disdain, while Ben-Zayb hunted
+for his mirrors—there they must be, for it was a question of mirrors.
+</p>
+<p>“It smells like a corpse,” observed one lady, fanning herself furiously. “Ugh!”
+</p>
+<p>“It smells of forty centuries,” remarked some one with emphasis.
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb forgot about his mirrors to discover who had made this remark. It was a military
+official who had read the history of Napoleon.
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb felt jealous and to utter another epigram that might annoy Padre Camorra
+a little said, “It smells of the Church.”
+</p>
+<p>“This box, ladies and gentlemen,” continued the American, “contained a handful of
+ashes and a piece of papyrus on which were written some words. Examine them yourselves,
+but I beg of you not to breathe heavily, because if any of the dust is lost my sphinx
+will appear in a mutilated condition.”
+</p>
+<p>The humbug, described with such seriousness and conviction, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2839">[<a href="#xd32e2839">169</a>]</span>was gradually having its effect, so much so that when the box was passed around, no
+one dared to breathe. Padre Camorra, who had so often depicted from the pulpit of
+Tiani the torments and sufferings of hell, while he laughed in his sleeves at the
+terrified looks of the sinners, held his nose, and Padre Salvi—the same Padre Salvi
+who had on All Souls’ Day prepared a phantasmagoria of the souls in purgatory with
+flames and transparencies illuminated with alcohol lamps and covered with tinsel,
+on the high altar of the church in a suburb, in order to get alms and orders for masses—the
+lean and taciturn Padre Salvi held his breath and gazed suspiciously at that handful
+of ashes.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Memento, homo, quia pulvis es</i>!” muttered Padre Irene with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>“Pish!” sneered Ben-Zayb—the same thought had occurred to him, and the Canon had taken
+the words out of his mouth.
+</p>
+<p>“Not knowing what to do,” resumed Mr. Leeds, closing the box carefully, “I examined
+the papyrus and discovered two words whose meaning was unknown to me. I deciphered
+them, and tried to pronounce them aloud. Scarcely had I uttered the first word when
+I felt the box slipping from my hands, as if pressed down by an enormous weight, and
+it glided along the floor, whence I vainly endeavored to remove it. But my surprise
+was converted into terror when it opened and I found within a human head that stared
+at me fixedly. Paralyzed with fright and uncertain what to do in the presence of such
+a phenomenon, I remained for a time stupefied, trembling like a person poisoned with
+mercury, but after a while recovered myself and, thinking that it was a vain illusion,
+tried to divert my attention by reading the second word. Hardly had I pronounced it
+when the box closed, the head disappeared, and in its place I again found the handful
+of ashes. Without suspecting it I had discovered the two most potent words in nature,
+the words of creation and destruction, of life and of death!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2849">[<a href="#xd32e2849">170</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He paused for a few moments to note the effect of his story, then with grave and measured
+steps approached the table and placed the mysterious box upon it.
+</p>
+<p>“The cloth, Mister!” exclaimed the incorrigible Ben-Zayb.
+</p>
+<p>“Why not?” rejoined Mr. Leeds, very complaisantly.
+</p>
+<p>Lifting the box with his right hand, he caught up the cloth with his left, completely
+exposing the table sustained by its three legs. Again he placed the box upon the center
+and with great gravity turned to his audience.
+</p>
+<p>“Here’s what I want to see,” said Ben-Zayb to his neighbor. “You notice how he makes
+some excuse.”
+</p>
+<p>Great attention was depicted on all countenances and silence reigned. The noise and
+roar of the street could be distinctly heard, but all were so affected that a snatch
+of dialogue which reached them produced no effect.
+</p>
+<p>“Why can’t we go in?” asked a woman’s voice.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Abá</i>, there’s a lot of friars and clerks in there,” answered a man. “The sphinx is for
+them only.”
+</p>
+<p>“The friars are inquisitive too,” said the woman’s voice, drawing away. “They don’t
+want us to know how they’re being fooled. Why, is the head a friar’s <i>querida</i>?”
+</p>
+<p>In the midst of a profound silence the American announced in a tone of emotion: “Ladies
+and gentlemen, with a word I am now going to reanimate the handful of ashes, and you
+will talk with a being that knows the past, the present, and much of the future!”
+</p>
+<p>Here the prestidigitator uttered a soft cry, first mournful, then lively, a medley
+of sharp sounds like imprecations and hoarse notes like threats, which made Ben-Zayb’s
+hair stand on end.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Deremof</i>!” cried the American.
+</p>
+<p>The curtains on the wall rustled, the lamps burned low, the table creaked. A feeble
+groan responded from the interior of the box. Pale and uneasy, all stared at one another,
+while one terrified señora caught hold of Padre Salvi.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2874">[<a href="#xd32e2874">171</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The box then opened of its own accord and presented to the eyes of the audience a
+head of cadaverous aspect, surrounded by long and abundant black hair. It slowly opened
+its eyes and looked around the whole audience. Those eyes had a vivid radiance, accentuated
+by their cavernous sockets, and, as if deep were calling unto deep, fixed themselves
+upon the profound, sunken eyes of the trembling Padre Salvi, who was staring unnaturally,
+as though he saw a ghost.
+</p>
+<p>“Sphinx,” commanded Mr. Leeds, “tell the audience who you are.”
+</p>
+<p>A deep silence prevailed, while a chill wind blew through the room and made the blue
+flames of the sepulchral lamps flicker. The most skeptical shivered.
+</p>
+<p>“I am Imuthis,” declared the head in a funereal, but strangely menacing, voice. “I
+was born in the time of Amasis and died under the Persian domination, when Cambyses
+was returning from his disastrous expedition into the interior of Libya. I had come
+to complete my education after extensive travels through Greece, Assyria, and Persia,
+and had returned to my native laud to dwell in it until Thoth should call me before
+his terrible tribunal. But to my undoing, on passing through Babylonia, I discovered
+an awful secret—the secret of the false Smerdis who usurped the throne, the bold Magian
+Gaumata who governed as an impostor. Fearing that I would betray him to Cambyses,
+he determined upon my ruin through the instrumentality of the Egyptian priests, who
+at that time ruled my native country. They were the owners of two-thirds of the land,
+the monopolizers of learning, they held the people down in ignorance and tyranny,
+they brutalized them, thus making them fit to pass without resistance from one domination
+to another. The invaders availed themselves of them, and knowing their usefulness,
+protected and enriched them. The rulers not only depended on their will, but some
+were reduced to mere instruments of theirs. The Egyptian priests hastened to execute
+Gaumata’s orders, with greater <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2881">[<a href="#xd32e2881">172</a>]</span>zeal from their fear of me, because they were afraid that I would reveal their impostures
+to the people. To accomplish their purpose, they made use of a young priest of Abydos,
+who passed for a saint.”
+</p>
+<p>A painful silence followed these words. That head was talking of priestly intrigues
+and impostures, and although referring to another age and other creeds, all the friars
+present were annoyed, possibly because they could see in the general trend of the
+speech some analogy to the existing situation. Padre Salvi was in the grip of convulsive
+shivering; he worked his lips and with bulging eyes followed the gaze of the head
+as though fascinated. Beads of sweat began to break out on his emaciated face, but
+no one noticed this, so deeply absorbed and affected were they.
+</p>
+<p>“What was the plot concocted by the priests of your country against you?” asked Mr.
+Leeds.
+</p>
+<p>The head uttered a sorrowful groan, which seemed to come from the bottom of the heart,
+and the spectators saw its eyes, those fiery eyes, clouded and filled with tears.
+Many shuddered and felt their hair rise. No, that was not an illusion, it was not
+a trick: the head was the victim and what it told was its own story.
+</p>
+<p>“Ay!” it moaned, shaking with affliction, “I loved a maiden, the daughter of a priest,
+pure as light, like the freshly opened lotus! The young priest of Abydos also desired
+her and planned a rebellion, using my name and some papyri that he had secured from
+my beloved. The rebellion broke out at the time when Cambyses was returning in rage
+over the disasters of his unfortunate campaign. I was accused of being a rebel, was
+made a prisoner, and having effected my escape was killed in the chase on Lake Moeris.
+From out of eternity I saw the imposture triumph. I saw the priest of Abydos night
+and day persecuting the maiden, who had taken refuge in a temple of Isis on the island
+of Philae. I saw him persecute and harass her, even in the subterranean chambers,
+I saw him drive her mad with terror and suffering, like a huge bat pursuing a white
+dove. <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2888">[<a href="#xd32e2888">173</a>]</span>Ah, priest, priest of Abydos, I have returned to life to expose your infamy, and after
+so many years of silence, I name thee murderer, hypocrite, liar!”
+</p>
+<p>A dry, hollow laugh accompanied these words, while a choked voice responded, “No!
+Mercy!”
+</p>
+<p>It was Padre Salvi, who had been overcome with terror and with arms extended was slipping
+in collapse to the floor.
+</p>
+<p>“What’s the matter with your Reverence? Are you ill?” asked Padre Irene.
+</p>
+<p>“The heat of the room—”
+</p>
+<p>“This odor of corpses we’re breathing here—”
+</p>
+<p>“Murderer, slanderer, hypocrite!” repeated the head. “I accuse you—murderer, murderer,
+murderer!”
+</p>
+<p>Again the dry laugh, sepulchral and menacing, resounded, as though that head were
+so absorbed in contemplation of its wrongs that it did not see the tumult that prevailed
+in the room.
+</p>
+<p>“Mercy! She still lives!” groaned Padre Salvi, and then lost consciousness. He was
+as pallid as a corpse. Some of the ladies thought it their duty to faint also, and
+proceeded to do so.
+</p>
+<p>“He is out of his head! Padre Salvi!”
+</p>
+<p>“I told him not to eat that bird’s-nest soup,” said Padre Irene. “It has made him
+sick.”
+</p>
+<p>“But he didn’t eat anything,” rejoined Don Custodio shivering. “As the head has been
+staring at him fixedly, it has mesmerized him.”
+</p>
+<p>So disorder prevailed, the room seemed to be a hospital or a battlefield. Padre Salvi
+looked like a corpse, and the ladies, seeing that no one was paying them any attention,
+made the best of it by recovering.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the head had been reduced to ashes, and Mr. Leeds, having replaced the
+cloth on the table, bowed his audience out.
+</p>
+<p>“This show must be prohibited,” said Don Custodio on leaving. “It’s wicked and highly
+immoral.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2906">[<a href="#xd32e2906">174</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“And above all, because it doesn’t use mirrors,” added Ben-Zayb, who before going
+out of the room tried to assure himself finally, so he leaped over the rail, went
+up to the table, and raised the cloth: nothing, absolutely nothing!<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2909src" href="#xd32e2909">1</a> On the following day he wrote an article in which he spoke of occult sciences, spiritualism,
+and the like.
+</p>
+<p>An order came immediately from the ecclesiastical governor prohibiting the show, but
+Mr. Leeds had already disappeared, carrying his secret with him to Hongkong.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2916">[<a href="#xd32e2916">175</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2909">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2909src">1</a></span> Yet Ben-Zayb was not very much mistaken. The three legs of the table have grooves
+in them in which slide the mirrors hidden below the platform and covered by the squares
+of the carpet. By placing the box upon the table a spring is pressed and the mirrors
+rise gently. The cloth is then removed, with care to raise it instead of letting it
+slide off, and then there is the ordinary table of the talking heads. The table is
+connected with the bottom of the box. The exhibition ended, the prestidigitator again
+covers the table, presses another spring, and the mirrors descend.—<i>Author’s note.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2909src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e393">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XIX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Fuse</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Placido Penitente left the class with his heart overflowing with bitterness and sullen
+gloom in his looks. He was worthy of his name when not driven from his usual course,
+but once irritated he was a veritable torrent, a wild beast that could only be stopped
+by the death of himself or his foe. So many affronts, so many pinpricks, day after
+day, had made his heart quiver, lodging in it to sleep the sleep of lethargic vipers,
+and they now were awaking to shake and hiss with fury. The hisses resounded in his
+ears with the jesting epithets of the professor, the phrases in the slang of the markets,
+and he seemed to hear blows and laughter. A thousand schemes for revenge rushed into
+his brain, crowding one another, only to fade immediately like phantoms in a dream.
+His vanity cried out to him with desperate tenacity that he must do something.
+</p>
+<p>“Placido Penitente,” said the voice, “show these youths that you have dignity, that
+you are the son of a valiant and noble province, where wrongs are washed out with
+blood. You’re a Batangan, Placido Penitente! Avenge yourself, Placido Penitente!”
+</p>
+<p>The youth groaned and gnashed his teeth, stumbling against every one in the street
+and on the Bridge of Spain, as if he were seeking a quarrel. In the latter place he
+saw a carriage in which was the Vice-Rector, Padre Sibyla, accompanied by Don Custodio,
+and he had a great mind to seize the friar and throw him into the river.
+</p>
+<p>He proceeded along the Escolta and was tempted to assault two Augustinians who were
+seated in the doorway <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2926">[<a href="#xd32e2926">176</a>]</span>of Quiroga’s bazaar, laughing and joking with other friars who must have been inside
+in joyous conversation, for their merry voices and sonorous laughter could be heard.
+Somewhat farther on, two cadets blocked up the sidewalk, talking with the clerk of
+a warehouse, who was in his shirtsleeves. Penitents moved toward them to force a passage
+and they, perceiving his dark intention, good-humoredly made way for him. Placido
+was by this time under the influence of the <i>amok</i>, as the Malayists say.
+</p>
+<p>As he approached his home—the house of a silversmith where he lived as a boarder—he
+tried to collect his thoughts and make a plan—to return to his town and avenge himself
+by showing the friars that they could not with impunity insult a youth or make a joke
+of him. He decided to write a letter immediately to his mother, Cabesang Andang, to
+inform her of what had happened and to tell her that the schoolroom had closed forever
+for him. Although there was the Ateneo of the Jesuits, where he might study that year,
+yet it was not very likely that the Dominicans would grant him the transfer, and,
+even though he should secure it, in the following year he would have to return to
+the University.
+</p>
+<p>“They say that we don’t know how to avenge ourselves!” he muttered. “Let the lightning
+strike and we’ll see!”
+</p>
+<p>But Placido was not reckoning upon what awaited him in the house of the silversmith.
+Cabesang Andang had just arrived from Batangas, having come to do some shopping, to
+visit her son, and to bring him money, jerked venison, and silk handkerchiefs.
+</p>
+<p>The first greetings over, the poor woman, who had at once noticed her son’s gloomy
+look, could no longer restrain her curiosity and began to ask questions. His first
+explanations Cabesang Andang regarded as some subterfuge, so she smiled and soothed
+her son, reminding him of their sacrifices and privations. She spoke of Capitana Simona’s
+son, who, having entered the seminary, now carried himself in the town like a bishop,
+and Capitana Simona already <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2935">[<a href="#xd32e2935">177</a>]</span>considered herself a Mother of God, clearly so, for her son was going to be another
+Christ.
+</p>
+<p>“If the son becomes a priest,” said she, “the mother won’t have to pay us what she
+owes us. Who will collect from her then?”
+</p>
+<p>But on seeing that Placido was speaking seriously and reading in his eyes the storm
+that raged within him, she realized that what he was telling her was unfortunately
+the strict truth. She remained silent for a while and then broke out into lamentations.
+</p>
+<p>“Ay!” she exclaimed. “I promised your father that I would care for you, educate you,
+and make a lawyer of you! I’ve deprived myself of everything so that you might go
+to school! Instead of joining the <i>panguingui</i> where the stake is a half peso, I Ve gone only where it’s a half real, enduring the
+bad smells and the dirty cards. Look at my patched camisa; for instead of buying new
+ones I’ve spent the money in masses and presents to St. Sebastian, even though I don’t
+have great confidence in his power, because the curate recites the masses fast and
+hurriedly, he’s an entirely new saint and doesn’t yet know how to perform miracles,
+and isn’t made of <i>batikulin</i> but of <i>lanete.</i> Ay, what will your father say to me when I die and see him again!”
+</p>
+<p>So the poor woman lamented and wept, while Placido became gloomier and let stifled
+sighs escape from his breast.
+</p>
+<p>“What would I get out of being a lawyer?” was his response.
+</p>
+<p>“What will become of you?” asked his mother, clasping her hands. “They’ll call you
+a filibuster and garrote you. I’ve told you that you must have patience, that you
+must be humble. I don’t tell you that you must kiss the hands of the curates, for
+I know that you have a delicate sense of smell, like your father, who couldn’t endure
+European cheese.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2952src" href="#xd32e2952">1</a> But we have to suffer, to be silent, to say yes <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2957">[<a href="#xd32e2957">178</a>]</span>to everything. What are we going to do? The friars own everything, and if they are
+unwilling, no one will become a lawyer or a doctor. Have patience, my son, have patience!”
+</p>
+<p>“But I’ve had a great deal, mother, I’ve suffered for months and months.”
+</p>
+<p>Cabesang Andang then resumed her lamentations. She did not ask that he declare himself
+a partizan of the friars, she was not one herself—it was enough to know that for one
+good friar there were ten bad, who took the money from the poor and deported the rich.
+But one must be silent, suffer, and endure—there was no other course. She cited this
+man and that one, who by being <i>patient</i> and humble, even though in the bottom of his heart he hated his masters, had risen
+from servant of the friars to high office; and such another who was rich and could
+commit abuses, secure of having patrons who would protect him from the law, yet who
+had been nothing more than a poor sacristan, humble and obedient, and who had married
+a pretty girl whose son had the curate for a godfather. So Cabesang Andang continued
+her litany of humble and <i>patient</i> Filipinos, as she called them, and was about to cite others who by not being so had
+found themselves persecuted and exiled, when Placido on some trifling pretext left
+the house to wander about the streets.
+</p>
+<p>He passed through Sibakong,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e2968src" href="#xd32e2968">2</a> Tondo, San Nicolas, and Santo Cristo, absorbed in his ill-humor, without taking note
+of the sun or the hour, and only when he began to feel hungry and discovered that
+he had no money, having given it all for celebrations and contributions, did he return
+to the house. He had expected that he would not meet his mother there, as she was
+in the habit, when in Manila, of going out at that hour to a neighboring house where
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2971">[<a href="#xd32e2971">179</a>]</span><i>panguingui</i> was played, but Cabesang Andang was waiting to propose her plan. She would avail
+herself of the procurator of the Augustinians to restore her son to the good graces
+of the Dominicans.
+</p>
+<p>Placido stopped her with a gesture. “I’ll throw myself into the sea first,” he declared.
+“I’ll become a tulisan before I’ll go back to the University.”
+</p>
+<p>Again his mother began her preachment about patience and humility, so he went away
+again without having eaten anything, directing his steps toward the quay where the
+steamers tied up. The sight of a steamer weighing anchor for Hongkong inspired him
+with an idea—to go to Hongkong, to run away, get rich there, and make war on the friars.
+</p>
+<p>The thought of Hongkong awoke in his mind the recollection of a story about frontals,
+cirials, and candelabra of pure silver, which the piety of the faithful had led them
+to present to a certain church. The friars, so the silversmith told, had sent to Hongkong
+to have duplicate frontals, cirials, and candelabra made of German silver, which they
+substituted for the genuine ones, these being melted down and coined into Mexican
+pesos. Such was the story he had heard, and though it was no more than a rumor or
+a story, his resentment gave it the color of truth and reminded him of other tricks
+of theirs in that same style. The desire to live free, and certain half-formed plans,
+led him to decide upon Hongkong. If the corporations sent all their money there, commerce
+must be flourishing and he could enrich himself.
+</p>
+<p>“I want to be free, to live free!”
+</p>
+<p>Night surprised him wandering along San Fernando, but not meeting any sailor he knew,
+he decided to return home. As the night was beautiful, with a brilliant moon transforming
+the squalid city into a fantastic fairy kingdom, he went to the fair. There he wandered
+back and forth, passing booths without taking any notice of the articles in them,
+ever with the thought of Hongkong, of living free, of enriching himself.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2981">[<a href="#xd32e2981">180</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He was about to leave the fair when he thought he recognized the jeweler Simoun bidding
+good-by to a foreigner, both of them speaking in English. To Placido every language
+spoken in the Philippines by Europeans, when not Spanish, had to be English, and besides,
+he caught the name Hongkong. If only the jeweler would recommend him to that foreigner,
+who must be setting out for Hongkong!
+</p>
+<p>Placido paused. He was acquainted with the jeweler, as the latter had been in his
+town peddling his wares, and he had accompanied him on one of his trips, when Simoun
+had made himself very amiable indeed, telling him of the life in the universities
+of the free countries—what a difference!
+</p>
+<p>So he followed the jeweler. “Señor Simoun, Señor Simoun!” he called.
+</p>
+<p>The jeweler was at that moment entering his carriage. Recognizing Placido, he checked
+himself.
+</p>
+<p>“I want to ask a favor of you, to say a few words to you.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun made a sign of impatience which Placido in his perturbation did not observe.
+In a few words the youth related what had happened and made known his desire to go
+to Hongkong.
+</p>
+<p>“Why?” asked Simoun, staring fixedly at Placido through his blue goggles.
+</p>
+<p>Placido did not answer, so Simoun threw back his head, smiled his cold, silent smile
+and said, “All right! Come with me. To Calle Iris!” he directed the cochero.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun remained silent throughout the whole drive, apparently absorbed in meditation
+of a very important nature. Placido kept quiet, waiting for him to speak first, and
+entertained himself in watching the promenaders who were enjoying the clear moonlight:
+pairs of infatuated lovers, followed by watchful mammas or aunts; groups of students
+in white clothes that the moonlight made whiter still; half-drunken soldiers in a
+carriage, six together, on their way to visit some nipa temple dedicated to Cytherea;
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2992">[<a href="#xd32e2992">181</a>]</span>children playing their games and Chinese selling sugar-cane. All these filled the
+streets, taking on in the brilliant moonlight fantastic forms and ideal outlines.
+In one house an orchestra was playing waltzes, and couples might be seen dancing under
+the bright lamps and chandeliers—what a sordid spectacle they presented in comparison
+with the sight the streets afforded! Thinking of Hongkong, he asked himself if the
+moonlit nights in that island were so poetical and sweetly melancholy as those of
+the Philippines, and a deep sadness settled down over his heart.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun ordered the carriage to stop and both alighted, just at the moment when Isagani
+and Paulita Gomez passed them murmuring sweet inanities. Behind them came Doña Victorina
+with Juanito Pelaez, who was talking in a loud voice, busily gesticulating, and appearing
+to have a larger hump than ever. In his preoccupation Pelaez did not notice his former
+schoolmate.
+</p>
+<p>“There’s a fellow who’s happy!” muttered Placido with a sigh, as he gazed toward the
+group, which became converted into vaporous silhouettes, with Juanito’s arms plainly
+visible, rising and falling like the arms of a windmill.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s all he’s good for,” observed Simoun. “It’s fine to be young!”
+</p>
+<p>To whom did Placido and Simoun each allude?
+</p>
+<p>The jeweler made a sign to the young man, and they left the street to pick their way
+through a labyrinth of paths and passageways among various houses, at times leaping
+upon stones to avoid the mudholes or stepping aside from the sidewalks that were badly
+constructed and still more badly tended. Placido was surprised to see the rich jeweler
+move through such places as if he were familiar with them. They at length reached
+an open lot where a wretched hut stood off by itself surrounded by banana-plants and
+areca-palms. Some bamboo frames and sections of the same material led Placido to suspect
+that they were approaching the house of a pyrotechnist.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3001">[<a href="#xd32e3001">182</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Simoun rapped on the window and a man’s face appeared.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, sir!” he exclaimed, and immediately came outside.
+</p>
+<p>“Is the powder here?” asked Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“In sacks. I’m waiting for the shells.”
+</p>
+<p>“And the bombs?”
+</p>
+<p>“Are all ready.”
+</p>
+<p>“All right, then. This very night you must go and inform the lieutenant and the corporal.
+Then keep on your way, and in Lamayan you will find a man in a banka. You will say
+<i>Cabesa</i> and he will answer <i>Tales</i>. It’s necessary that he be here tomorrow. There’s no time to be lost.”
+</p>
+<p>Saying this, he gave him some gold coins.
+</p>
+<p>“How’s this, sir?” the man inquired in very good Spanish. “Is there any news?”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, it’ll be done within the coming week.”
+</p>
+<p>“The coming week!” exclaimed the unknown, stepping backward. “The suburbs are not
+yet ready, they hope that the General will withdraw the decree. I thought it was postponed
+until the beginning of Lent.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun shook his head. “We won’t need the suburbs,” he said. “With Cabesang Tales’
+people, the ex-carbineers, and a regiment, we’ll have enough. Later, Maria Clara may
+be dead. Start at once!”
+</p>
+<p>The man disappeared. Placido, who had stood by and heard all of this brief interview,
+felt his hair rise and stared with startled eyes at Simoun, who smiled.
+</p>
+<p>“You’re surprised,” he said with his icy smile, “that this Indian, so poorly dressed,
+speaks Spanish well? He was a schoolmaster who persisted in teaching Spanish to the
+children and did not stop until he had lost his position and had been deported as
+a disturber of the public peace, and for having been a friend of the unfortunate Ibarra.
+I got him back from his deportation, where he had been working as a pruner of coconut-palms,
+and have made him a pyrotechnist.”
+</p>
+<p>They returned to the street and set out for Trozo. Before <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3024">[<a href="#xd32e3024">183</a>]</span>a wooden house of pleasant and well-kept appearance was a Spaniard on crutches, enjoying
+the moonlight. When Simoun accosted him, his attempt to rise was accompanied by a
+stifled groan.
+</p>
+<p>“You’re ready?” Simoun inquired of him.
+</p>
+<p>“I always am!”
+</p>
+<p>“The coming week?”
+</p>
+<p>“So soon?”
+</p>
+<p>“At the first cannon-shot!”
+</p>
+<p>He moved away, followed by Placido, who was beginning to ask himself if he were not
+dreaming.
+</p>
+<p>“Does it surprise you,” Simoun asked him, “to see a Spaniard so young and so afflicted
+with disease? Two years ago he was as robust as you are, but his enemies succeeded
+in sending him to Balabak to work in a penal settlement, and there he caught the rheumatism
+and fever that are dragging him into the grave. The poor devil had married a very
+beautiful woman.”
+</p>
+<p>As an empty carriage was passing, Simoun hailed it and with Placido directed it to
+his house in the Escolta, just at the moment when the clocks were striking half-past
+ten.
+</p>
+<p>Two hours later Placido left the jeweler’s house and walked gravely and thoughtfully
+along the Escolta, then almost deserted, in spite of the fact that the cafés were
+still quite animated. Now and then a carriage passed rapidly, clattering noisily over
+the worn pavement.
+</p>
+<p>From a room in his house that overlooked the Pasig, Simoun turned his gaze toward
+the Walled City, which could be seen through the open windows, with its roofs of galvanized
+iron gleaming in the moonlight and its somber towers showing dull and gloomy in the
+midst of the serene night. He laid aside his blue goggles, and his white hair, like
+a frame of silver, surrounded his energetic bronzed features, dimly lighted by a lamp
+whose flame was dying out from lack of oil. Apparently wrapped in thought, he took
+no notice of the fading light and impending darkness.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3038">[<a href="#xd32e3038">184</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Within a few days,” he murmured, “when on all sides that accursed city is burning,
+den of presumptuous nothingness and impious exploitation of the ignorant and the distressed,
+when the tumults break out in the suburbs and there rush into the terrorized streets
+my avenging hordes, engendered by rapacity and wrongs, then will I burst the walls
+of your prison, I will tear you from the clutches of fanaticism, and my white dove,
+you will be the Phoenix that will rise from the glowing embers! A revolution plotted
+by men in darkness tore me from your side—another revolution will sweep me into your
+arms and revive me! That moon, before reaching the apogee of its brilliance, will
+light the Philippines cleansed of loathsome filth!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun, stopped suddenly, as though interrupted. A voice in his inner consciousness
+was asking if he, Simoun, were not also a part of the filth of that accursed city,
+perhaps its most poisonous ferment. Like the dead who are to rise at the sound of
+the last trumpet, a thousand bloody specters—desperate shades of murdered men, women
+violated, fathers torn from their families, vices stimulated and encouraged, virtues
+mocked, now rose in answer to the mysterious question. For the first time in his criminal
+career, since in Havana he had by means of corruption and bribery set out to fashion
+an instrument for the execution of his plans—a man without faith, patriotism, or conscience—for
+the first time in that life, something within rose up and protested against his actions.
+He closed his eyes and remained for some time motionless, then rubbed his hand over
+his forehead, tried to be deaf to his conscience, and felt fear creeping over him.
+No, he must not analyze himself, he lacked the courage to turn his gaze toward his
+past. The idea of his courage, his conviction, his self-confidence failing him at
+the very moment when his work was set before him! As the ghosts of the wretches in
+whose misfortunes he had taken a hand continued to hover before his eyes, as if issuing
+from the shining surface of the river to invade the room with appeals and hands extended
+toward <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3042">[<a href="#xd32e3042">185</a>]</span>him, as reproaches and laments seemed to fill the air with threats and cries for vengeance,
+he turned his gaze from the window and for the first time began to tremble.
+</p>
+<p>“No, I must be ill, I can’t be feeling well,” he muttered. “There are many who hate
+me, who ascribe their misfortunes to me, but—”
+</p>
+<p>He felt his forehead begin to burn, so he arose to approach the window and inhale
+the fresh night breeze. Below him the Pasig dragged along its silvered stream, on
+whose bright surface the foam glittered, winding slowly about, receding and advancing,
+following the course of the little eddies. The city loomed up on the opposite bank,
+and its black walls looked fateful, mysterious, losing their sordidness in the moonlight
+that idealizes and embellishes everything. But again Simoun shivered; he seemed to
+see before him the severe countenance of his father, dying in prison, but dying for
+having done good; then the face of another man, severer still, who had given his life
+for him because he believed that he was going to bring about the regeneration of his
+country.
+</p>
+<p>“No, I can’t turn back,” he exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
+“The work is at hand and its success will justify me! If I had conducted myself as
+you did, I should have succumbed. Nothing of idealism, nothing of fallacious theories!
+Fire and steel to the cancer, chastisement to vice, and afterwards destroy the instrument,
+if it be bad! No, I have planned well, but now I feel feverish, my reason wavers,
+it is natural—If I have done ill, it has been that I may do good, and the end justifies
+the means. What I will do is not to expose myself—”
+</p>
+<p>With his thoughts thus confused he lay down, and tried to fall asleep.
+</p>
+<p>On the following morning Placido listened submissively, with a smile on his lips,
+to his mother’s preachment. When she spoke of her plan of interesting the Augustinian
+procurator he did not protest or object, but on the contrary offered himself to carry
+it out, in order to save trouble for <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3051">[<a href="#xd32e3051">186</a>]</span>his mother, whom he begged to return at once to the province, that very day, if possible.
+Cabesang Andang asked him the reason for such haste.
+</p>
+<p>“Because—because if the procurator learns that you are here he won’t do anything until
+you send him a present and order some masses.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3055">[<a href="#xd32e3055">187</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2952">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2952src">1</a></span> The Malay method of kissing is quite different from the Occidental. The mouth is placed
+close to the object and a deep breath taken, often <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e2954">[<a href="#xd32e2954">178</a>]</span>without actually touching the object, being more of a sniff than a kiss.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2952src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e2968">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e2968src">2</a></span> Now Calle Tetuan, Santa Cruz. The other names are still in use.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e2968src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch20" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e403">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Arbiter</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">True it was that Padre Irene had said: the question of the academy of Castilian, so
+long before broached, was on the road to a solution. Don Custodio, the active Don
+Custodio, the most active of all the arbiters in the world, according to Ben-Zayb,
+was occupied with it, spending his days reading the petition and falling asleep without
+reaching any decision, waking on the following day to repeat the same performance,
+dropping off to sleep again, and so on continuously.
+</p>
+<p>How the good man labored, the most active of all the arbiters in the world! He wished
+to get out of the predicament by pleasing everybody—the friars, the high official,
+the Countess, Padre Irene, and his own liberal principles. He had consulted with Señor
+Pasta, and Señor Pasta had left him stupefied and confused, after advising him to
+do a million contradictory and impossible things. He had consulted with Pepay the
+dancing girl, and Pepay, who had no idea what he was talking about, executed a pirouette
+and asked him for twenty-five pesos to bury an aunt of hers who had suddenly died
+for the fifth time, or the fifth aunt who had suddenly died, according to fuller explanations,
+at the same time requesting that he get a cousin of hers who could read, write, and
+play the violin, a job as assistant on the public works—all things that were far from
+inspiring Don Custodio with any saving idea.
+</p>
+<p>Two days after the events in the Quiapo fair, Don Custodio was as usual busily studying
+the petition, without hitting upon the happy solution. While he yawns, coughs, smokes,
+and thinks about Pepay’s legs and her pirouettes, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3064">[<a href="#xd32e3064">188</a>]</span>let us give some account of this exalted personage, in order to understand Padre Sibyla’s
+reason for proposing him as the arbiter of such a vexatious matter and why the other
+clique accepted him.
+</p>
+<p>Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de Monteredondo, often referred to as <i>Good Authority</i>, belonged to that class of Manila society which cannot take a step without having
+the newspapers heap titles upon them, calling each <i>indedefatigable, distinguished, zealous, active, profound, intelligent, well-informed,
+influential</i>, and so on, as if they feared that he might be confused with some idle and ignorant
+possessor of the same name. Besides, no harm resulted from it, and the watchful censor
+was not disturbed. The <i>Good Authority</i> resulted from his friendship with Ben-Zayb, when the latter, in his two noisiest
+controversies, which he carried on for weeks and months in the columns of the newspapers
+about whether it was proper to wear a high hat, a derby, or a <i>salakot,</i> and whether the plural of <i>carácter</i> should be <i>carácteres</i> or <i>caractéres,</i> in order to strengthen his argument always came out with, “We have this on good authority,”
+“We learn this from good authority,” later letting it be known, for in Manila everything
+becomes known, that this <i>Good Authority</i> was no other than Don Custodio de Salazar y Sanchez de Monteredondo.
+</p>
+<p>He had come to Manila very young, with a good position that had enabled him to marry
+a pretty mestiza belonging to one of the wealthiest families of the city. As he had
+natural talent, boldness, and great self-possession, and knew how to make use of the
+society in which he found himself, he launched into business with his wife’s money,
+filling contracts for the government, by reason of which he was made alderman, afterwards
+alcalde, member of the Economic Society,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3087src" href="#xd32e3087">1</a> councilor of the administration, president <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3093">[<a href="#xd32e3093">189</a>]</span>of the directory of the <i lang="es">Obras Pias</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3098src" href="#xd32e3098">2</a> member of the Society of Mercy, director of the Spanish-Filipino Bank, etc., etc.
+Nor are these <i>etceteras</i> to be taken like those ordinarily placed after a long enumeration of titles: Don
+Custodio, although never having seen a treatise on hygiene, came to be vice-chairman
+of the Board of Health, for the truth was that of the eight who composed this board
+only one had to be a physician and he could not be that one. So also he was a member
+of the Vaccination Board, which was composed of three physicians and seven laymen,
+among these being the Archbishop and three Provincials. He was a brother in all the
+confraternities of the common and of the most exalted dignity, and, as we have seen,
+director of the Superior Commission of Primary Instruction, which usually did not
+do anything—all these being quite sufficient reason for the newspapers to heap adjectives
+upon him no less when he traveled than when he sneezed.
+</p>
+<p>In spite of so many offices, Don Custodio was not among those who slept through the
+sessions, contenting themselves, like lazy and timid delegates, in voting with the
+majority. The opposite of the numerous kings of Europe who bear the title of King
+of Jerusalem, Don Custodio made his dignity felt and got from it all the benefit possible,
+often frowning, making his voice impressive, coughing out his words, often taking
+up the whole session telling a story, presenting a project, or disputing with a colleague
+who had placed himself in open opposition to him. Although not past forty, he already
+talked of acting with circumspection, of letting the figs ripen (adding under his
+breath “pumpkins”), of pondering deeply and of stepping with careful tread, of the
+necessity for understanding the country, because the nature of the Indians, because
+the prestige of the Spanish name, because they were first of all Spaniards, because
+religion—and so on. Remembered yet in Manila is a speech of his when for the first
+time it was proposed to <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3105">[<a href="#xd32e3105">190</a>]</span>light the city with kerosene in place of the old coconut oil: in such an innovation,
+far from seeing the extinction of the coconut-oil industry, he merely discerned the
+interests of a certain alderman—because Don Custodio saw a long way—and opposed it
+with all the resonance of his bucal cavity, considering the project too premature
+and predicting great social cataclysms. No less celebrated was his opposition to a
+sentimental serenade that some wished to tender a certain governor on the eve of his
+departure. Don Custodio, who felt a little resentment over some slight or other, succeeded
+in insinuating the idea that the rising star was the mortal enemy of the setting one,
+whereat the frightened promoters of the serenade gave it up.
+</p>
+<p>One day he was advised to return to Spain to be cured of a liver complaint, and the
+newspapers spoke of him as an Antaeus who had to set foot in the mother country to
+gain new strength. But the Manila Antaeus found himself a small and insignificant
+person at the capital. There he was nobody, and he missed his beloved adjectives.
+He did not mingle with the upper set, and his lack of education prevented him from
+amounting to much in the academies and scientific centers, while his backwardness
+and his parish-house politics drove him from the clubs disgusted, vexed, seeing nothing
+clearly but that there they were forever borrowing money and gambling heavily. He
+missed the submissive servants of Manila, who endured all his peevishness, and who
+now seemed to be far preferable; when a winter kept him between a fireplace and an
+attack of pneumonia, he sighed for the Manila winter during which a single quilt is
+sufficient, while in summer he missed the easy-chair and the boy to fan him. In short,
+in Madrid he was only one among many, and in spite of his diamonds he was once taken
+for a rustic who did not know how to comport himself and at another time for an <i>Indiano</i>. His scruples were scoffed at, and he was shamelessly flouted by some borrowers whom
+he offended. Disgusted with the conservatives, who took no great notice of his advice,
+as well as with the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3111">[<a href="#xd32e3111">191</a>]</span>sponges who rifled his pockets, he declared himself to be of the liberal party and
+returned within a year to the Philippines, if not sound in his liver, yet completely
+changed in his beliefs.
+</p>
+<p>The eleven months spent at the capital among café politicians, nearly all retired
+half-pay office-holders, the various speeches caught here and there, this or that
+article of the opposition, all the political life that permeates the air, from the
+barber-shop where amid the scissors-clips the Figaro announces his program to the
+banquets where in harmonious periods and telling phrases the different shades of political
+opinion, the divergences and disagreements, are adjusted—all these things awoke in
+him the farther he got from Europe, like the life-giving sap within the sown seed
+prevented from bursting out by the thick husk, in such a way that when he reached
+Manila he believed that he was going to regenerate it and actually had the holiest
+plans and the purest ideals.
+</p>
+<p>During the first months after his return he was continually talking about the capital,
+about his good friends, about Minister So-and-So, ex-Minister Such-a-One, the delegate
+C., the author B., and there was not a political event, a court scandal, of which
+he was not informed to the last detail, nor was there a public man the secrets of
+whose private life were unknown to him, nor could anything occur that he had not foreseen,
+nor any reform be ordered but he had first been consulted. All this was seasoned with
+attacks on the conservatives in righteous indignation, with apologies of the liberal
+party, with a little anecdote here, a phrase there from some great man, dropped in
+as one who did not wish offices and employments, which same he had refused in order
+not to be beholden to the conservatives. Such was his enthusiasm in these first days
+that various cronies in the grocery-store which he visited from time to time affiliated
+themselves with the liberal party and began to style themselves liberals: Don Eulogio
+Badana, a retired sergeant of carbineers; the honest Armendia, by <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3116">[<a href="#xd32e3116">192</a>]</span>profession a pilot, and a rampant Carlist; Don Eusebio Picote, customs inspector;
+and Don Bonifacio Tacon, shoe- and harness-maker.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3118src" href="#xd32e3118">3</a>
+</p>
+<p>But nevertheless, from lack of encouragement and of opposition, his enthusiasm gradually
+waned. He did not read the newspapers that came from Spain, because they arrived in
+packages, the sight of which made him yawn. The ideas that he had caught having been
+all expended, he needed reinforcement, and his orators were not there, and although
+in the casinos of Manila there was enough gambling, and money was borrowed as in Madrid,
+no speech that would nourish his political ideas was permitted in them. But Don Custodio
+was not lazy, he did more than wish—he worked. Foreseeing that he was going to leave
+his bones in the Philippines, he began to consider that country his proper sphere
+and to devote his efforts to its welfare. Thinking to liberalize it, he commenced
+to draw up a series of reforms or projects, which were ingenious, to say the least.
+It was he who, having heard in Madrid mention of the wooden street pavements of Paris,
+not yet adopted in Spain, proposed the introduction of them in Manila by covering
+the streets with boards nailed down as they are on the sides of houses; it was he
+who, deploring the accidents to two-wheeled vehicles, planned to avoid them by putting
+on at least three wheels; it was also he who, while acting as vice-president of the
+Board of Health, ordered everything fumigated, even the telegrams that came from infected
+places; it was also he who, in compassion for the convicts that worked in the sun
+and with a desire of saving to the government the cost of their equipment, suggested
+that they be clothed in a simple breech-clout and set to work not by day but at night.
+He marveled, he stormed, that his projects should encounter objectors, but consoled
+himself with the reflection that the man who is worth enemies has them, and revenged
+himself by attacking and <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3124">[<a href="#xd32e3124">193</a>]</span>tearing to pieces any project, good or bad, presented by others.
+</p>
+<p>As he prided himself on being a liberal, upon being asked what he thought of the Indians
+he would answer, like one conferring a great favor, that they were fitted for manual
+labor and the <i>imitative arts</i> (meaning thereby music, painting, and sculpture), adding his old postscript that
+to know them one must have resided many, many years in the country. Yet when he heard
+of any one of them excelling in something that was not manual labor or an <i>imitative art</i>—in chemistry, medicine, or philosophy, for example—he would exclaim: “Ah, he promises
+fairly, fairly well, he’s not a fool!” and feel sure that a great deal of Spanish
+blood must flow in the veins of such an <i>Indian</i>. If unable to discover any in spite of his good intentions, he then sought a Japanese
+origin, for it was at that time the fashion began of attributing to the Japanese or
+the Arabs whatever good the Filipinos might have in them. For him the native songs
+were Arabic music, as was also the alphabet of the ancient Filipinos—he was certain
+of this, although he did not know Arabic nor had he ever seen that alphabet.
+</p>
+<p>“Arabic, the purest Arabic,” he said to Ben-Zayb in a tone that admitted no reply.
+“At best, Chinese!”
+</p>
+<p>Then he would add, with a significant wink: “Nothing can be, nothing ought to be,
+original with the Indians, you understand! I like them greatly, but they mustn’t be
+allowed to pride themselves upon anything, for then they would take heart and turn
+into a lot of wretches.”
+</p>
+<p>At other times he would say: “I love the Indians fondly, I’ve constituted myself their
+father and defender, but it’s necessary to keep everything in its proper place. Some
+were born to command and others to serve—plainly, that is a truism which can’t be
+uttered very loudly, but it can be put into practise without many words. For look,
+the trick depends upon trifles. When you wish to reduce a people to subjection, assure
+it that it is in subjection. The <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3138">[<a href="#xd32e3138">194</a>]</span>first day it will laugh, the second protest, the third doubt, and the fourth be convinced.
+To keep the Filipino docile, he must have repeated to him day after day what he is,
+to convince him that he is incompetent. What good would it do, besides, to have him
+believe in something else that would make him wretched? Believe me, it’s an act of
+charity to hold every creature in his place—that is order, harmony. That constitutes
+the <i>science</i> of government.”
+</p>
+<p>In referring to his policies, Don Custodio was not satisfied with the word <i>art</i>, and upon pronouncing the word <i>government</i>, he would extend his hand downwards to the height of a man bent over on his knees.
+</p>
+<p>In regard to his religious ideas, he prided himself on being a Catholic, very much
+a Catholic—ah, Catholic Spain, the land of <i>María Santísima</i>! A liberal could be and ought to be a Catholic, when the reactionaries were setting
+themselves up as gods or saints, just as a mulatto passes for a white man in Kaffirland.
+But with all that, he ate meat during Lent, except on Good Friday, never went to confession,
+believed neither in miracles nor the infallibility of the Pope, and when he attended
+mass, went to the one at ten o’clock, or to the shortest, the military mass. Although
+in Madrid he had spoken ill of the religious orders, so as not to be out of harmony
+with his surroundings, considering them anachronisms, and had hurled curses against
+the Inquisition, while relating this or that lurid or droll story wherein the habits
+danced, or rather friars without habits, yet in speaking of the Philippines, which
+should be ruled by special laws, he would cough, look wise, and again extend his hand
+downwards to that mysterious altitude.
+</p>
+<p>“The friars are necessary, they’re a necessary evil,” he would declare.
+</p>
+<p>But how he would rage when any Indian dared to doubt the miracles or did not acknowledge
+the Pope! All the tortures of the Inquisition were insufficient to punish such temerity.
+</p>
+<p>When it was objected that to rule or to live at the expense <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3156">[<a href="#xd32e3156">195</a>]</span>of ignorance has another and somewhat ugly name and is punished by law when the culprit
+is a single person, he would justify his position by referring to other colonies.
+“We,” he would announce in his official tone, “can speak out plainly! We’re not like
+the British and the Dutch who, in order to hold people in subjection, make use of
+the lash. We avail ourselves of other means, milder and surer. The salutary influence
+of the friars is superior to the British lash.”
+</p>
+<p>This last remark made his fortune. For a long time Ben-Zayb continued to use adaptations
+of it, and with him all Manila. The thinking part of Manila applauded it, and it even
+got to Madrid, where it was quoted in the Parliament as from <i>a liberal of long residence there</i>. The friars, flattered by the comparison and seeing their prestige enhanced, sent
+him sacks of chocolate, presents which the incorruptible Don Custodio returned, so
+that Ben-Zayb immediately compared him to Epaminondas. Nevertheless, this modern Epaminondas
+made use of the rattan in his choleric moments, and advised its use!
+</p>
+<p>At that time the conventos, fearful that he would render a decision favorable to the
+petition of the students, increased their gifts, so that on the afternoon when we
+see him he was more perplexed than ever, his reputation for energy was being compromised.
+It had been more than a fortnight since he had had the petition in his hands, and
+only that morning the high official, after praising his zeal, had asked for a decision.
+Don Custodio had replied with mysterious gravity, giving him to understand that it
+was not yet completed. The high official had smiled a smile that still worried and
+haunted him.
+</p>
+<p>As we were saying, he yawned and yawned. In one of these movements, at the moment
+when he opened his eyes and closed his mouth, his attention was caught by a file of
+red envelopes, arranged in regular order on a magnificent kamagon desk. On the back
+of each could be read in large letters: PROJECTS.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3166">[<a href="#xd32e3166">196</a>]</span></p>
+<p>For a moment he forgot his troubles and Pepay’s pirouettes, to reflect upon all that
+those files contained, which had issued from his prolific brain in his hours of inspiration.
+How many original ideas, how many sublime thoughts, how many means of ameliorating
+the woes of the Philippines! Immortality and the gratitude of the country were surely
+his!
+</p>
+<p>Like an old lover who discovers a moldy package of amorous epistles, Don Custodio
+arose and approached the desk. The first envelope, thick, swollen, and plethoric,
+bore the title: PROJECTS IN PROJECT.
+</p>
+<p>“No,” he murmured, “they’re excellent things, but it would take a year to read them
+over.”
+</p>
+<p>The second, also quite voluminous, was entitled: PROJECTS UNDER CONSIDERATION. “No,
+not those either.”
+</p>
+<p>Then came the PROJECTS NEARING COMPLETION, PROJECTS PRESENTED, PROJECTS REJECTED,
+PROJECTS APPROVED, PROJECTS POSTPONED. These last envelopes held little, but the least
+of all was that of the PROJECTS EXECUTED.
+</p>
+<p>Don Custodio wrinkled up his nose—what did it contain? He had completely forgotten
+what was in it. A sheet of yellowish paper showed from under the flap, as though the
+envelope were sticking out its tongue. This he drew out and unfolded: it was the famous
+project for the School of Arts and Trades!
+</p>
+<p>“What the devil!” he exclaimed. “If the Augustinian padres took charge of it—”
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly he slapped his forehead and arched his eyebrows, while a look of triumph
+overspread his face. “I have reached a decision!” he cried with an oath that was not
+exactly <i>eureka</i>. “My decision is made!”
+</p>
+<p>Repeating his peculiar <i>eureka</i> five or six times, which struck the air like so many gleeful lashes, he sat down
+at his desk, radiant with joy, and began to write furiously.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3182">[<a href="#xd32e3182">197</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3087">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3087src">1</a></span> The <i lang="es">Sociedad Económica de Amigos del País</i> for the encouragement of agricultural and industrial development, was established
+by Basco de Vargas in 1780.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3087src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3098">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3098src">2</a></span> Funds managed by the government for making loans and supporting charitable enterprises.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3098src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3118">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3118src">3</a></span> The names are fictitious burlesques.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3118src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch21" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e413">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Manila Types</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">That night there was a grand function at the Teatro de Variedades. Mr. Jouay’s French
+operetta company was giving its initial performance, <i>Les Cloches de Corneville</i>. To the eyes of the public was to be exhibited his select troupe, whose fame the
+newspapers had for days been proclaiming. It was reported that among the actresses
+was a very beautiful voice, with a figure even more beautiful, and if credit could
+be given to rumor, her amiability surpassed even her voice and figure.
+</p>
+<p>At half-past seven in the evening there were no more tickets to be had, not even though
+they had been for Padre Salvi himself in his direct need, and the persons waiting
+to enter the general admission already formed a long queue. In the ticket-office there
+were scuffles and fights, talk of filibusterism and races, but this did not produce
+any tickets, so that by a quarter before eight fabulous prices were being offered
+for them. The appearance of the building, profusely illuminated, with flowers and
+plants in all the doors and windows, enchanted the new arrivals to such an extent
+that they burst out into exclamations and applause. A large crowd surged about the
+entrance, gazing enviously at those going in, those who came early from fear of missing
+their seats. Laughter, whispering, expectation greeted the later arrivals, who disconsolately
+joined the curious crowd, and now that they could not get in contented themselves
+with watching those who did.
+</p>
+<p>Yet there was one person who seemed out of place amid such great eagerness and curiosity.
+He was a tall, meager man, who dragged one leg stiffly when he walked, dressed <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3194">[<a href="#xd32e3194">198</a>]</span>in a wretched brown coat and dirty checkered trousers that fitted his lean, bony limbs
+tightly. A straw sombrero, artistic in spite of being broken, covered an enormous
+head and allowed his dirty gray, almost red, hair to straggle out long and kinky at
+the end like a poet’s curls. But the most notable thing about this man was not his
+clothing or his European features, guiltless of beard or mustache, but his fiery red
+face, from which he got the nickname by which he was known, <i>Camaroncocido</i>.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3198src" href="#xd32e3198">1</a> He was a curious character belonging to a prominent Spanish family, but he lived
+like a vagabond and a beggar, scoffing at the prestige which he flouted indifferently
+with his rags. He was reputed to be a kind of reporter, and in fact his gray goggle-eyes,
+so cold and thoughtful, always showed up where anything publishable was happening.
+His manner of living was a mystery to all, as no one seemed to know where he ate and
+slept. Perhaps he had an empty hogshead somewhere.
+</p>
+<p>But at that moment Camaroncocido lacked his usual hard and indifferent expression,
+something like mirthful pity being reflected in his looks. A funny little man accosted
+him merrily.
+</p>
+<p>“Friend!” exclaimed the latter, in a raucous voice, as hoarse as a frog’s, while he
+displayed several Mexican pesos, which Camaroncocido merely glanced at and then shrugged
+his shoulders. What did they matter to him?
+</p>
+<p>The little old man was a fitting contrast to him. Small, very small, he wore on his
+head a high hat, which presented the appearance of a huge hairy worm, and lost himself
+in an enormous frock coat, too wide and too long for him, to reappear in trousers
+too short, not reaching below his calves. His body seemed to be the grandfather and
+his legs the grandchildren, while as for his shoes he appeared to be floating on the
+land, for they were of an enormous sailor type, apparently protesting against the
+hairy worm <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3205">[<a href="#xd32e3205">199</a>]</span>worn on his head with all the energy of a convento beside a World’s Exposition. If
+Camaroncocido was red, he was brown; while the former, although of Spanish extraction,
+had not a single hair on his face, yet he, an Indian, had a goatee and mustache, both
+long, white, and sparse. His expression was lively. He was known as <i>Tio Quico</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3209src" href="#xd32e3209">2</a> and like his friend lived on publicity, advertising the shows and posting the theatrical
+announcements, being perhaps the only Filipino who could appear with impunity in a
+silk hat and frock coat, just as his friend was the first Spaniard who laughed at
+the prestige of his race.
+</p>
+<p>“The Frenchman has paid me well,” he said smiling and showing his picturesque gums,
+which looked like a street after a conflagration. “I did a good job in posting the
+bills.”
+</p>
+<p>Camaroncocido shrugged his shoulders again. “Quico,” he rejoined in a cavernous voice,
+“if they’ve given you six pesos for your work, how much will they give the friars?”
+</p>
+<p>Tio Quico threw back his head in his usual lively manner. “To the friars?”
+</p>
+<p>“Because you surely know,” continued Camaroncocido, “that all this crowd was secured
+for them by the conventos.”
+</p>
+<p>The fact was that the friars, headed by Padre Salvi, and some lay brethren captained
+by Don Custodio, had opposed such shows. Padre Camorra, who could not attend, watered
+at the eyes and mouth, but argued with Ben-Zayb, who defended them feebly, thinking
+of the free tickets they would send his newspaper. Don Custodio spoke of morality,
+religion, good manners, and the like.
+</p>
+<p>“But,” stammered the writer, “if our own farces with their plays on words and phrases
+of double meaning—”
+</p>
+<p>“But at least they’re in Castilian!” the virtuous councilor interrupted with a roar,
+inflamed to righteous wrath. “Obscenities in French, man, Ben-Zayb, for God’s sake,
+in French! Never!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3221">[<a href="#xd32e3221">200</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He uttered this <i>never</i> with the energy of three Guzmans threatened with being killed like fleas if they
+did not surrender twenty Tarifas. Padre Irene naturally agreed with Don Custodio and
+execrated French operetta. Whew, he had been in Paris, but had never set foot in a
+theater, the Lord deliver him!
+</p>
+<p>Yet the French operetta also counted numerous partizans. The officers of the army
+and navy, among them the General’s aides, the clerks, and many society people were
+anxious to enjoy the delicacies of the French language from the mouths of genuine
+<i>Parisiennes</i>, and with them were affiliated those who had traveled by the M.M.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3230src" href="#xd32e3230">3</a> and had jabbered a little French during the voyage, those who had visited Paris,
+and all those who wished to appear learned.
+</p>
+<p>Hence, Manila society was divided into two factions, operettists and anti-operettists.
+The latter were supported by the elderly ladies, wives jealous and careful of their
+husbands’ love, and by those who were engaged, while those who were free and those
+who were beautiful declared themselves enthusiastic operettists. Notes and then more
+notes were exchanged, there were goings and comings, mutual recriminations, meetings,
+lobbyings, arguments, even talk of an insurrection of the natives, of their indolence,
+of inferior and superior races, of prestige and other humbugs, so that after much
+gossip and more recrimination, the permit was granted, Padre Salvi at the same time
+publishing a pastoral that was read by no one but the proof-reader. There were questionings
+whether the General had quarreled with the Countess, whether she spent her time in
+the halls of pleasure, whether His Excellency was greatly annoyed, whether there had
+been presents exchanged, whether the French consul—, and so on and on. Many names
+were bandied about: Quiroga the Chinaman’s, Simoun’s, and even those of many actresses.
+</p>
+<p>Thanks to these scandalous preliminaries, the people’s <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3236">[<a href="#xd32e3236">201</a>]</span>impatience had been aroused, and since the evening before, when the troupe arrived,
+there was talk of nothing but attending the first performance. From the hour when
+the red posters announced <i lang="fr">Les Cloches de Corneville</i> the victors prepared to celebrate their triumph. In some offices, instead of the
+time being spent in reading newspapers and gossiping, it was devoted to devouring
+the synopsis and spelling out French novels, while many feigned business outside to
+consult their pocket-dictionaries on the sly. So no business was transacted, callers
+were told to come back the next day, but the public could not take offense, for they
+encountered some very polite and affable clerks, who received and dismissed them with
+grand salutations in the French style. The clerks were practising, brushing the dust
+off their French, and calling to one another <i lang="fr">oui, monsieur, s’il vous plait</i>, and <i lang="fr">pardon</i>! at every turn, so that it was a pleasure to see and hear them.
+</p>
+<p>But the place where the excitement reached its climax was the newspaper office. Ben-Zayb,
+having been appointed critic and translator of the synopsis, trembled like a poor
+woman accused of witchcraft, as he saw his enemies picking out his blunders and throwing
+up to his face his deficient knowledge of French. When the Italian opera was on, he
+had very nearly received a challenge for having mistranslated a tenor’s name, while
+an envious rival had immediately published an article referring to him as an ignoramus—him,
+the foremost thinking head in the Philippines! All the trouble he had had to defend
+himself! He had had to write at least seventeen articles and consult fifteen dictionaries,
+so with these salutary recollections, the wretched Ben-Zayb moved about with leaden
+hands, to say nothing of his feet, for that would be plagiarizing Padre Camorra, who
+had once intimated that the journalist wrote with them.
+</p>
+<p>“You see, Quico?” said Camaroncocido. “One half of the people have come because the
+friars told them not to, making it a kind of public protest, and the other half because
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3250">[<a href="#xd32e3250">202</a>]</span>they say to themselves, ‘Do the friars object to it? Then it must be instructive!’
+Believe me, Quico, your advertisements are a good thing but the pastoral was better,
+even taking into consideration the fact that it was read by no one.”
+</p>
+<p>“Friend, do you believe,” asked Tio Quico uneasily, “that on account of the competition
+with Padre Salvi my business will in the future be prohibited?”
+</p>
+<p>“Maybe so, Quico, maybe so,” replied the other, gazing at the sky. “Money’s getting
+scarce.”
+</p>
+<p>Tio Quico muttered some incoherent words: if the friars were going to turn theatrical
+advertisers, he would become a friar. After bidding his friend good-by, he moved away
+coughing and rattling his silver coins.
+</p>
+<p>With his eternal indifference Camaroncocido continued to wander about here and there
+with his crippled leg and sleepy looks. The arrival of unfamiliar faces caught his
+attention, coming as they did from different parts and signaling to one another with
+a wink or a cough. It was the first time that he had ever seen these individuals on
+such an occasion, he who knew all the faces and features in the city. Men with dark
+faces, humped shoulders, uneasy and uncertain movements, poorly disguised, as though
+they had for the first time put on sack coats, slipped about among the shadows, shunning
+attention, instead of getting in the front rows where they could see well.
+</p>
+<p>“Detectives or thieves?” Camaroncocido asked himself and immediately shrugged his
+shoulders. “But what is it to me?”
+</p>
+<p>The lamp of a carriage that drove up lighted in passing a group of four or five of
+these individuals talking with a man who appeared to be an army officer.
+</p>
+<p>“Detectives! It must be a new corps,” he muttered with his shrug of indifference.
+Soon, however, he noticed that the officer, after speaking to two or three more groups,
+approached a carriage and seemed to be talking vigorously with some person inside.
+Camaroncocido took a few steps <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3261">[<a href="#xd32e3261">203</a>]</span>forward and without surprise thought that he recognized the jeweler Simoun, while
+his sharp ears caught this short dialogue.
+</p>
+<p>“The signal will be a gunshot!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, sir.”
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t worry—it’s the General who is ordering it, but be careful about saying so.
+If you follow my instructions, you’ll get a promotion.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, sir.”
+</p>
+<p>“So, be ready!”
+</p>
+<p>The voice ceased and a second later the carriage drove away. In spite of his indifference
+Camaroncocido could not but mutter, “Something’s afoot—hands on pockets!”
+</p>
+<p>But feeling his own to be empty, he again shrugged his shoulders. What did it matter
+to him, even though the heavens should fall?
+</p>
+<p>So he continued his pacing about. On passing near two persons engaged in conversation,
+he caught what one of them, who had rosaries and scapularies around his neck, was
+saying in Tagalog: “The friars are more powerful than the General, don’t be a fool!
+He’ll go away and they’ll stay here. So, if we do well, we’ll get rich. The signal
+is a gunshot.”
+</p>
+<p>“Hold hard, hold hard,” murmured Camaroncocido, tightening his fingers. “On that side
+the General, on this Padre Salvi. Poor country! But what is it to me?”
+</p>
+<p>Again shrugging his shoulders and expectorating at the same time, two actions that
+with him were indications of supreme indifference, he continued his observations.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the carriages were arriving in dizzy streams, stopping directly before
+the door to set down the members of the select society. Although the weather was scarcely
+even cool, the ladies sported magnificent shawls, silk neckerchiefs, and even light
+cloaks. Among the escorts, some who were in frock coats with white ties wore overcoats,
+while others carried them on their arms to display the rich silk linings.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3276">[<a href="#xd32e3276">204</a>]</span></p>
+<p>In a group of spectators, Tadeo, he who was always taken ill the moment the professor
+appeared, was accompanied by a fellow townsman of his, the novice whom we saw suffer
+evil consequences from reading wrongly the Cartesian principle. This novice was very
+inquisitive and addicted to tiresome questions, and Tadeo was taking advantage of
+his ingenuousness and inexperience to relate to him the most stupendous lies. Every
+Spaniard that spoke to him, whether clerkling or underling, was presented as a leading
+merchant, a marquis, or a count, while on the other hand any one who passed him by
+was a greenhorn, a petty official, a nobody! When pedestrians failed him in keeping
+up the novice’s astonishment, he resorted to the resplendent carriages that came up.
+Tadeo would bow politely, wave his hand in a friendly manner, and call out a familiar
+greeting.
+</p>
+<p>“Who’s he?”
+</p>
+<p>“Bah!” was the negligent reply. “The Civil Governor, the Vice-Governor, Judge ——,
+Señora ——, all friends of mine!”
+</p>
+<p>The novice marveled and listened in fascination, taking care to keep on the left.
+Tadeo the friend of judges and governors!
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo named all the persons who arrived, when he did not know them inventing titles,
+biographies, and interesting sketches.
+</p>
+<p>“You see that tall gentleman with dark whiskers, somewhat squint-eyed, dressed in
+black—he’s Judge A ——, an intimate friend of the wife of Colonel B ——. One day if
+it hadn’t been for me they would have come to blows. Hello, here comes that Colonel!
+What if they should fight?”
+</p>
+<p>The novice held his breath, but the colonel and the judge shook hands cordially, the
+soldier, an old bachelor, inquiring about the health of the judge’s family.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, thank heaven!” breathed Tadeo. “I’m the one who made them friends.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3287">[<a href="#xd32e3287">205</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“What if they should invite us to go in?” asked the novice timidly.
+</p>
+<p>“Get out, boy! I never accept favors!” retorted Tadeo majestically. “I confer them,
+but disinterestedly.”
+</p>
+<p>The novice bit his lip and felt smaller than ever, while he placed a respectful distance
+between himself and his fellow townsman.
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo resumed: “That is the musician H——; that one, the lawyer J——, who delivered
+as his own a speech printed in all the books and was congratulated and admired for
+it; Doctor K——, that man just getting out of a hansom, is a specialist in diseases
+of children, so he’s called Herod; that’s the banker L——, who can talk only of his
+money and his hoards; the poet M——, who is always dealing with the stars and <i>the beyond</i>. There goes the beautiful wife of N——, whom Padre Q——is accustomed to meet when he
+calls upon the absent husband; the Jewish merchant P——, who came to the islands with
+a thousand pesos and is now a millionaire. That fellow with the long beard is the
+physician R——, who has become rich by making invalids more than by curing them.”
+</p>
+<p>“Making invalids?”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, boy, in the examination of the conscripts. Attention! That finely dressed gentleman
+is not a physician but a homeopathist <i>sui generis</i>—he professes completely the <i>similis similibus</i>. The young cavalry captain with him is his chosen disciple. That man in a light suit
+with his hat tilted back is the government clerk whose maxim is never to be polite
+and who rages like a demon when he sees a hat on any one else’s head—they say that
+he does it to ruin the German hatters. The man just arriving with his family is the
+wealthy merchant C——, who has an income of over a hundred thousand pesos. But what
+would you say if I should tell you that he still owes me four pesos, five reales,
+and twelve cuartos? But who would collect from a rich man like him?”
+</p>
+<p>“That gentleman in debt to you?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3304">[<a href="#xd32e3304">206</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Sure! One day I got him out of a bad fix. It was on a Friday at half-past six in
+the morning, I still remember, because I hadn’t breakfasted. That lady who is followed
+by a duenna is the celebrated Pepay, the dancing girl, but she doesn’t dance any more
+now that a very Catholic gentleman and a great friend of mine has—forbidden it. There’s
+the death’s-head Z——, who’s surely following her to get her to dance again. He’s a
+good fellow, and a great friend of mine, but has one defect—he’s a Chinese mestizo
+and yet calls himself a Peninsular Spaniard. Sssh! Look at Ben-Zayb, him with the
+face of a friar, who’s carrying a pencil and a roll of paper in his hand. He’s the
+great writer, Ben-Zayb, a good friend of mine—he has talent!”
+</p>
+<p>“You don’t say! And that little man with white whiskers?”
+</p>
+<p>“He’s the official who has appointed his daughters, those three little girls, assistants
+in his department, so as to get their names on the pay-roll. He’s a clever man, very
+clever! When he makes a mistake he blames it on somebody else, he buys things and
+pays for them out of the treasury. He’s clever, very, very clever!”
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo was about to say more, but suddenly checked himself.
+</p>
+<p>“And that gentleman who has a fierce air and gazes at everybody over his shoulders?”
+inquired the novice, pointing to a man who nodded haughtily.
+</p>
+<p>But Tadeo did not answer. He was craning his neck to see Paulita Gomez, who was approaching
+with a friend, Doña Victorina, and Juanito Pelaez. The latter had presented her with
+a box and was more humped than ever.
+</p>
+<p>Carriage after carriage drove up; the actors and actresses arrived and entered by
+a separate door, followed by their friends and admirers.
+</p>
+<p>After Paulita had gone in, Tadeo resumed: “Those are the nieces of the rich Captain
+D——, those coming up in a landau; you see how pretty and healthy they are? Well, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3315">[<a href="#xd32e3315">207</a>]</span>in a few years they’ll be dead or crazy. Captain D—— is opposed to their marrying,
+and the insanity of the uncle is appearing in the nieces. That’s the Señorita E——,
+the rich heiress whom the world and the conventos are disputing over. Hello, I know
+that fellow! It’s Padre Irene, in disguise, with a false mustache. I recognize him
+by his nose. And he was so greatly opposed to this!”
+</p>
+<p>The scandalized novice watched a neatly cut coat disappear behind a group of ladies.
+</p>
+<p>“The Three Fates!” went on Tadeo, watching the arrival of three withered, bony, hollow-eyed,
+wide-mouthed, and shabbily dressed women. “They’re called—”
+</p>
+<p>“Atropos?” ventured the novice, who wished to show that he also knew somebody, at
+least in mythology.
+</p>
+<p>“No, boy, they’re called the Weary Waiters—old, censorious, and dull. They pretend
+to hate everybody—men, women, and children. But look how the Lord always places beside
+the evil a remedy, only that sometimes it comes late. There behind the Fates, the
+frights of the city, come those three girls, the pride of their friends, among whom
+I count myself. That thin young man with goggle-eyes, somewhat stooped, who is wildly
+gesticulating because he can’t get tickets, is the chemist S——, author of many essays
+and scientific treatises, some of which are notable and have captured prizes. The
+Spaniards say of him, ‘There’s some hope for him, some hope for him.’ The fellow who
+is soothing him with his Voltairian smile is the poet T——, a young man of talent,
+a great friend of mine, and, for the very reason that he has talent, he has thrown
+away his pen. That fellow who is trying to get in with the actors by the other door
+is the young physician U——, who has effected some remarkable cures—it’s also said
+of him that he promises well. He’s not such a scoundrel as Pelaez but he’s cleverer
+and slyer still. I believe that he’d shake dice with death and win.”
+</p>
+<p>“And that brown gentleman with a mustache like hog-bristles?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3324">[<a href="#xd32e3324">208</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Ah, that’s the merchant F——, who forges everything, even his baptismal certificate.
+He wants to be a Spanish mestizo at any cost, and is making heroic efforts to forget
+his native language.”
+</p>
+<p>“But his daughters are very white.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, that’s the reason rice has gone up in price, and yet they eat nothing but bread.”
+</p>
+<p>The novice did not understand the connection between the price of rice and the whiteness
+of those girls, but he held his peace.
+</p>
+<p>“There goes the fellow that’s engaged to one of them, that thin brown youth who is
+following them with a lingering movement and speaking with a protecting air to the
+three friends who are laughing at him. He’s a martyr to his beliefs, to his consistency.”
+</p>
+<p>The novice was filled with admiration and respect for the young man.
+</p>
+<p>“He has the look of a fool, and he is one,” continued Tadeo. “He was born in San Pedro
+Makati and has inflicted many privations upon himself. He scarcely ever bathes or
+eats pork, because, according to him, the Spaniards don’t do those things, and for
+the same reason he doesn’t eat rice and dried fish, although he may be watering at
+the mouth and dying of hunger. Anything that comes from Europe, rotten or preserved,
+he considers divine—a month ago Basilio cured him of a severe attack of gastritis,
+for he had eaten a jar of mustard to prove that he’s a European.”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment the orchestra struck up a waltz.
+</p>
+<p>“You see that gentleman—that hypochondriac who goes along turning his head from side
+to side, seeking salutes? That’s the celebrated governor of Pangasinan, a good man
+who loses his appetite whenever any Indian fails to salute him. He would have died
+if he hadn’t issued the proclamation about salutes to which he owes his celebrity.
+Poor fellow, it’s only been three days since he came from the province and look how
+thin he has become! Oh, here’s the great man, the illustrious—open your eyes!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3335">[<a href="#xd32e3335">209</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Who? That man with knitted brows?”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, that’s Don Custodio, the liberal, Don Custodio. His brows are knit because he’s
+meditating over some important project. If the ideas he has in his head were carried
+out, this would be a different world! Ah, here comes Makaraig, your housemate.”
+</p>
+<p>It was in fact Makaraig, with Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani. Upon seeing them, Tadeo
+advanced and spoke to them.
+</p>
+<p>“Aren’t you coming in?” Makaraig asked him.
+</p>
+<p>“We haven’t been able to get tickets.”
+</p>
+<p>“Fortunately, we have a box,” replied Makaraig. “Basilio couldn’t come. Both of you,
+come in with us.”
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo did not wait for the invitation to be repeated, but the novice, fearing that
+he would intrude, with the timidity natural to the provincial Indian, excused himself,
+nor could he be persuaded to enter.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3345">[<a href="#xd32e3345">210</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3198">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3198src">1</a></span> “Boiled Shrimp”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3198src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3209">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3209src">2</a></span> “Uncle Frank.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3209src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3230">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3230src">3</a></span> Messageries Maritimes, a French line of steamers in the Oriental trade.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3230src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch22" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e424">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Performance</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">The interior of the theater presented a lively aspect. It was filled from top to bottom,
+with people standing in the corridors and in the aisles, fighting to withdraw a head
+from some hole where they had inserted it, or to shove an eye between a collar and
+an ear. The open boxes, occupied for the most part by ladies, looked like baskets
+of flowers, whose petals—the fans—shook in a light breeze, wherein hummed a thousand
+bees. However, just as there are flowers of strong or delicate fragrance, flowers
+that kill and flowers that console, so from our baskets were exhaled like emanations:
+there were to be heard dialogues, conversations, remarks that bit and stung. Three
+or four boxes, however, were still vacant, in spite of the lateness of the hour. The
+performance had been advertised for half-past eight and it was already a quarter to
+nine, but the curtain did not go up, as his Excellency had not yet arrived. The gallery-gods,
+impatient and uncomfortable in their seats, started a racket, clapping their hands
+and pounding the floor with their canes.
+</p>
+<p>“Boom—boom—boom! Ring up the curtain! Boom—boom—boom!”
+</p>
+<p>The artillerymen were not the least noisy. Emulators of Mars, as Ben-Zayb called them,
+they were not satisfied with this music; thinking themselves perhaps at a bullfight,
+they made remarks at the ladies who passed before them in words that are euphemistically
+called flowers in Madrid, although at times they seem more like foul weeds. Without
+heeding the furious looks of the husbands, they <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3354">[<a href="#xd32e3354">211</a>]</span>bandied from one to another the sentiments and longings inspired by so many beauties.
+</p>
+<p>In the reserved seats, where the ladies seemed to be afraid to venture, as few were
+to be seen there, a murmur of voices prevailed amid suppressed laughter and clouds
+of tobacco smoke. They discussed the merits of the players and talked scandal, wondering
+if his Excellency had quarreled with the friars, if his presence at such a show was
+a defiance or mere curiosity. Others gave no heed to these matters, but were engaged
+in attracting the attention of the ladies, throwing themselves into attitudes more
+or less interesting and statuesque, flashing diamond rings, especially when they thought
+themselves the foci of insistent opera-glasses, while yet another would address a
+respectful salute to this or that señora or señorita, at the same time lowering his
+head gravely to whisper to a neighbor, “How ridiculous she is! And such a bore!”
+</p>
+<p>The lady would respond with one of her most gracious smiles and an enchanting nod
+of her head, while murmuring to a friend sitting near, amid lazy flourishes of her
+fan, “How impudent he is! He’s madly in love, my dear.”
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the noise increased. There remained only two vacant boxes, besides that
+of his Excellency, which was distinguished by its curtains of red velvet. The orchestra
+played another waltz, the audience protested, when fortunately there arose a charitable
+hero to distract their attention and relieve the manager, in the person of a man who
+had occupied a reserved seat and refused to give it up to its owner, the philosopher
+Don Primitivo. Finding his own arguments useless, Don Primitivo had appealed to an
+usher. “I don’t care to,” the hero responded to the latter’s protests, placidly puffing
+at his cigarette. The usher appealed to the manager. “I don’t care to,” was the response,
+as he settled back in the seat. The manager went away, while the artillerymen in the
+gallery began to sing out encouragement to the usurper.
+</p>
+<p>Our hero, now that he had attracted general attention, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3361">[<a href="#xd32e3361">212</a>]</span>thought that to yield would be to lower himself, so he held on to the seat, while
+he repeated his answer to a pair of guards the manager had called in. These, in consideration
+of the rebel’s rank, went in search of their corporal, while the whole house broke
+out into applause at the firmness of the hero, who remained seated like a Roman senator.
+</p>
+<p>Hisses were heard, and the inflexible gentleman turned angrily to see if they were
+meant for him, but the galloping of horses resounded and the stir increased. One might
+have said that a revolution had broken out, or at least a riot, but no, the orchestra
+had suspended the waltz and was playing the royal march: it was his Excellency, the
+Captain-General and Governor of the islands, who was entering. All eyes sought and
+followed him, then lost sight of him, until he finally appeared in his box. After
+looking all about him and making some persons happy with a lordly salute, he sat down,
+as though he were indeed the man for whom the chair was waiting. The artillerymen
+then became silent and the orchestra tore into the prelude.
+</p>
+<p>Our students occupied a box directly facing that of Pepay, the dancing girl. Her box
+was a present from Makaraig, who had already got on good terms with her in order to
+propitiate Don Custodio. Pepay had that very afternoon written a note to the illustrious
+arbiter, asking for an answer and appointing an interview in the theater. For this
+reason, Don Custodio, in spite of the active opposition he had manifested toward the
+French operetta, had gone to the theater, which action won him some caustic remarks
+on the part of Don Manuel, his ancient adversary in the sessions of the Ayuntamiento.
+</p>
+<p>“I’ve come to judge the operetta,” he had replied in the tone of a Cato whose conscience
+was clear.
+</p>
+<p>So Makaraig was exchanging looks of intelligence with Pepay, who was giving him to
+understand that she had something to tell him. As the dancing girl’s face wore a happy
+expression, the students augured that a favorable outcome was assured. Sandoval, who
+had just returned <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3369">[<a href="#xd32e3369">213</a>]</span>from making calls in other boxes, also assured them that the decision had been favorable,
+that that very afternoon the Superior Commission had considered and approved it. Every
+one was jubilant, even Pecson having laid aside his pessimism when he saw the smiling
+Pepay display a note. Sandoval and Makaraig congratulated one another, Isagani alone
+remaining cold and unsmiling. What had happened to this young man?
+</p>
+<p>Upon entering the theater, Isagani had caught sight of Paulita in a box, with Juanito
+Pelaez talking to her. He had turned pale, thinking that he must be mistaken. But
+no, it was she herself, she who greeted him with a gracious smile, while her beautiful
+eyes seemed to be asking pardon and promising explanations. The fact was that they
+had agreed upon Isagani’s going first to the theater to see if the show contained
+anything improper for a young woman, but now he found her there, and in no other company
+than that of his rival. What passed in his mind is indescribable: wrath, jealousy,
+humiliation, resentment raged within him, and there were moments even when he wished
+that the theater would fall in; he had a violent desire to laugh aloud, to insult
+his sweetheart, to challenge his rival, to make a scene, but finally contented himself
+with sitting quiet and not looking at her at all. He was conscious of the beautiful
+plans Makaraig and Sandoval were making, but they sounded like distant echoes, while
+the notes of the waltz seemed sad and lugubrious, the whole audience stupid and foolish,
+and several times he had to make an effort to keep back the tears. Of the trouble
+stirred up by the hero who refused to give up the seat, of the arrival of the Captain-General,
+he was scarcely conscious. He stared toward the drop-curtain, on which was depicted
+a kind of gallery with sumptuous red hangings, affording a view of a garden in which
+a fountain played, yet how sad the gallery looked to him and how melancholy the painted
+landscape! A thousand vague recollections surged into his memory like distant echoes
+of music heard in the night, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3373">[<a href="#xd32e3373">214</a>]</span>like songs of infancy, the murmur of lonely forests and gloomy rivulets, moonlit nights
+on the shore of the sea spread wide before his eyes. So the enamored youth considered
+himself very wretched and stared fixedly at the ceiling so that the tears should not
+fall from his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>A burst of applause drew him from these meditations. The curtain had just risen, and
+the merry chorus of peasants of Corneville was presented, all dressed in cotton caps,
+with heavy wooden sabots on their feet. Some six or seven girls, well-rouged on the
+lips and cheeks, with large black circles around their eyes to increase their brilliance,
+displayed white arms, fingers covered with diamonds, round and shapely limbs. While
+they were chanting the Norman phrase “<i lang="fr">Allez, marchez! Allez, marchez!</i>” they smiled at their different admirers in the reserved seats with such openness
+that Don Custodio, after looking toward Pepay’s box to assure himself that she was
+not doing the same thing with some other admirer, set down in his note-book this indecency,
+and to make sure of it lowered his head a little to see if the actresses were not
+showing their knees.
+</p>
+<p>“Oh, these Frenchwomen!” he muttered, while his imagination lost itself in considerations
+somewhat more elevated, as he made comparisons and projects.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="fr">Quoi v’la tous les cancans d’la s’maine!</i>” sang Gertrude, a proud damsel, who was looking roguishly askance at the Captain-General.
+</p>
+<p>“We’re going to have the cancan!” exclaimed Tadeo, the winner of the first prize in
+the French class, who had managed to make out this word. “Makaraig, they’re going
+to dance the cancan!”
+</p>
+<p>He rubbed his hands gleefully. From the moment the curtain rose, Tadeo had been heedless
+of the music. He was looking only for the prurient, the indecent, the immoral in actions
+and dress, and with his scanty French was sharpening his ears to catch the obscenities
+that the austere guardians of the fatherland had foretold.
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval, pretending to know French, had converted himself <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3390">[<a href="#xd32e3390">215</a>]</span>into a kind of interpreter for his friends. He knew as much about it as Tadeo, but
+the published synopsis helped him and his fancy supplied the rest. “Yes,” he said,
+“they’re going to dance the cancan—she’s going to lead it.”
+</p>
+<p>Makaraig and Pecson redoubled their attention, smiling in anticipation, while Isagani
+looked away, mortified to think that Paulita should be present at such a show and
+reflecting that it was his duty to challenge Juanito Pelaez the next day.
+</p>
+<p>But the young men waited in vain. Serpolette came on, a charming girl, in her cotton
+cap, provoking and challenging. “<i lang="fr">Hein, qui parle de Serpolette?</i>” she demanded of the gossips, with her arms akimbo in a combative attitude. Some
+one applauded, and after him all those in the reserved seats. Without changing her
+girlish attitude, Serpolette gazed at the person who had started the applause and
+paid him with a smile, displaying rows of little teeth that looked like a string of
+pearls in a case of red velvet.
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo followed her gaze and saw a man in a false mustache with an extraordinarily
+large nose. “By the monk’s cowl!” he exclaimed. “It’s Irene!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” corroborated Sandoval, “I saw him behind the scenes talking with the actresses.”
+</p>
+<p>The truth was that Padre Irene, who was a melomaniac of the first degree and knew
+French well, had been sent to the theater by Padre Salvi as a sort of religious detective,
+or so at least he told the persons who recognized him. As a faithful critic, who should
+not be satisfied with viewing the piece from a distance, he wished to examine the
+actresses at first hand, so he had mingled in the groups of admirers and gallants,
+had penetrated into the greenroom, where was whispered and talked a French required
+by the situation, a <i>market French</i>, a language that is readily comprehensible for the vender when the buyer seems disposed
+to pay well.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3405">[<a href="#xd32e3405">216</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Serpolette was surrounded by two gallant officers, a sailor, and a lawyer, when she
+caught sight of him moving about, sticking the tip of his long nose into all the nooks
+and corners, as though with it he were ferreting out all the mysteries of the stage.
+She ceased her chatter, knitted her eyebrows, then raised them, opened her lips and
+with the vivacity of a <i lang="fr">Parisienne</i> left her admirers to hurl herself like a torpedo upon our critic.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="fr">Tiens, tiens, Toutou! Mon lapin!</i>” she cried, catching Padre Irene’s arm and shaking it merrily, while the air rang
+with her silvery laugh.
+</p>
+<p>“Tut, tut!” objected Padre Irene, endeavoring to conceal himself.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="fr">Mais, comment! Toi ici, grosse bête! Et moi qui t’croyais—</i>”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="fr">’Tais pas d’tapage, Lily! Il faut m’respecter! ’Suis ici l’Pape!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>With great difficulty Padre Irene made her listen to reason, for Lily was <i lang="fr">enchanteé</i> to meet in Manila an old friend who reminded her of the <i lang="fr">coulisses</i> of the Grand Opera House. So it was that Padre Irene, fulfilling at the same time
+his duties as a friend and a critic, had initiated the applause to encourage her,
+for Serpolette deserved it.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, the young men were waiting for the cancan. Pecson became all eyes, but
+there was everything except cancan. There was presented the scene in which, but for
+the timely arrival of the representatives of the law, the women would have come to
+blows and torn one another’s hair out, incited thereto by the mischievous peasants,
+who, like our students, hoped to see something more than the cancan.
+</p>
+<div lang="fr" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Disputez-vous, battez-vous,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Scit, scit, scit, scit, scit, scit,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Nous allons compter les coups.</p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">The music ceased, the men went away, the women returned, a few at a time, and started
+a conversation among <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3444">[<a href="#xd32e3444">217</a>]</span>themselves, of which our friends understood nothing. They were slandering some absent
+person.
+</p>
+<p>“They look like the Chinamen of the <i>pansiteria!</i>” whispered Pecson.
+</p>
+<p>“But, the cancan?” asked Makaraig.
+</p>
+<p>“They’re talking about the most suitable place to dance it,” gravely responded Sandoval.
+</p>
+<p>“They look like the Chinamen of the <i>pansiteria</i>,” repeated Pecson in disgust.
+</p>
+<p>A lady accompanied by her husband entered at that moment and took her place in one
+of the two vacant boxes. She had the air of a queen and gazed disdainfully at the
+whole house, as if to say, “I’ve come later than all of you, you crowd of upstarts
+and provincials, I’ve come later than you!” There are persons who go to the theater
+like the contestants in a mule-race: the last one in, wins, and we know very sensible
+men who would ascend the scaffold rather than enter a theater before the first act.
+But the lady’s triumph was of short duration—she caught sight of the other box that
+was still empty, and began to scold her better half, thus starting such a disturbance
+that many were annoyed.
+</p>
+<p>“Ssh! Ssh!”
+</p>
+<p>“The blockheads! As if they understood French!” remarked the lady, gazing with supreme
+disdain in all directions, finally fixing her attention on Juanito’s box, whence she
+thought she had heard an impudent hiss.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito was in fact guilty, for he had been pretending to understand everything, holding
+himself up proudly and applauding at times as though nothing that was said escaped
+him, and this too without guiding himself by the actors’ pantomime, because he scarcely
+looked toward the stage. The rogue had intentionally remarked to Paulita that, as
+there was so much more beautiful a woman close at hand, he did not care to strain
+his eyes looking beyond her. Paulita had blushed, covered her face with her fan, and
+glanced stealthily toward where Isagani, silent and morose, was abstractedly watching
+the show.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3461">[<a href="#xd32e3461">218</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Paulita felt nettled and jealous. Would Isagani fall in love with any of those alluring
+actresses? The thought put her in a bad humor, so she scarcely heard the praises that
+Doña Victorina was heaping upon her own favorite.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito was playing his part well: he shook his head at times in sign of disapproval,
+and then there could be heard coughs and murmurs in some parts, at other times he
+smiled in approbation, and a second later applause resounded. Doña Victorina was charmed,
+even conceiving some vague ideas of marrying the young man the day Don Tiburcio should
+die—Juanito knew French and De Espadaña didn’t! Then she began to flatter him, nor
+did he perceive the change in the drift of her talk, so occupied was he in watching
+a Catalan merchant who was sitting next to the Swiss consul. Having observed that
+they were conversing in French, Juanito was getting his inspiration from their countenances,
+and thus grandly giving the cue to those about him.
+</p>
+<p>Scene followed scene, character succeeded character, comic and ridiculous like the
+bailiff and Grenicheux, imposing and winsome like the marquis and Germaine. The audience
+laughed heartily at the slap delivered by Gaspard and intended for the coward Grenicheux,
+which was received by the grave bailiff, whose wig went flying through the air, producing
+disorder and confusion as the curtain dropped.
+</p>
+<p>“Where’s the cancan?” inquired Tadeo.
+</p>
+<p>But the curtain rose again immediately, revealing a scene in a servant market, with
+three posts on which were affixed signs bearing the announcements: <i>servantes</i>, <i>cochers</i>, and <i>domestiques</i>. Juanito, to improve the opportunity, turned to Doña Victorina and said in a loud
+voice, so that Paulita might hear and be convinced of his learning:
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Servantes</i> means servants, <i>domestiques</i> domestics.”
+</p>
+<p>“And in what way do the <i>servantes</i> differ from the <i>domestiques</i>?” asked Paulita.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito was not found wanting. “<i>Domestiques</i> are those <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3491">[<a href="#xd32e3491">219</a>]</span>that are domesticated—haven’t you noticed that some of them have the air of savages?
+Those are the <i>servantes</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s right,” added Doña Victorina, “some have very bad manners—and yet I thought
+that in Europe everybody was cultivated. But as it happens in France,—well, I see!”
+</p>
+<p>“Ssh! Ssh!”
+</p>
+<p>But what was Juanito’s predicament when the time came for the opening of the market
+and the beginning of the sale, and the servants who were to be hired placed themselves
+beside the signs that indicated their class! The men, some ten or twelve rough characters
+in livery, carrying branches in their hands, took their place under the sign <i>domestiques</i>!
+</p>
+<p>“Those are the domestics,” explained Juanito.
+</p>
+<p>“Really, they have the appearance of being only recently domesticated,” observed Doña
+Victorina. “Now let’s have a look at the savages.”
+</p>
+<p>Then the dozen girls headed by the lively and merry Serpolette, decked out in their
+best clothes, each wearing a big bouquet of flowers at the waist, laughing, smiling,
+fresh and attractive, placed themselves, to Juanito’s great desperation, beside the
+post of the <i>servantes</i>.
+</p>
+<p>“How’s this?” asked Paulita guilelessly. “Are those the savages that you spoke of?”
+</p>
+<p>“No,” replied the imperturbable Juanito, “there’s a mistake—they’ve got their places
+mixed—those coming behind—”
+</p>
+<p>“Those with the whips?”
+</p>
+<p>Juanito nodded assent, but he was rather perplexed and uneasy.
+</p>
+<p>“So those girls are the <i>cochers</i>?”
+</p>
+<p>Here Juanito was attacked by such a violent fit of coughing that some of the spectators
+became annoyed.
+</p>
+<p>“Put him out! Put the consumptive out!” called a voice.
+</p>
+<p>Consumptive! To be called a consumptive before Paulita! Juanito wanted to find the
+blackguard and make <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3520">[<a href="#xd32e3520">220</a>]</span>him swallow that “consumptive.” Observing that the women were trying to hold him back,
+his bravado increased, and he became more conspicuously ferocious. But fortunately
+it was Don Custodio who had made the diagnosis, and he, fearful of attracting attention
+to himself, pretended to hear nothing, apparently busy with his criticism of the play.
+</p>
+<p>“If it weren’t that I am with you,” remarked Juanito, rolling his eyes like some dolls
+that are moved by clockwork, and to make the resemblance more real he stuck out his
+tongue occasionally.
+</p>
+<p>Thus that night he acquired in Doña Victorina’s eyes the reputation of being brave
+and punctilious, so she decided in her heart that she would marry him just as soon
+as Don Tiburcio was out of the way. Paulita became sadder and sadder in thinking about
+how the girls called <i>cochers</i> could occupy Isagani’s attention, for the name had certain disagreeable associations
+that came from the slang of her convent school-days.
+</p>
+<p>At length the first act was concluded, the marquis taking away as servants Serpolette
+and Germaine, the representative of timid beauty in the troupe, and for coachman the
+stupid Grenicheux. A burst of applause brought them out again holding hands, those
+who five seconds before had been tormenting one another and were about to come to
+blows, bowing and smiling here and there to the gallant Manila public and exchanging
+knowing looks with various spectators.
+</p>
+<p>While there prevailed the passing tumult occasioned by those who crowded one another
+to get into the greenroom and felicitate the actresses and by those who were going
+to make calls on the ladies in the boxes, some expressed their opinions of the play
+and the players.
+</p>
+<p>“Undoubtedly, Serpolette is the best,” said one with a knowing air.
+</p>
+<p>“I prefer Germaine, she’s an ideal blonde.”
+</p>
+<p>“But she hasn’t any voice.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3534">[<a href="#xd32e3534">221</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“What do I care about the voice?”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, for shape, the tall one.”
+</p>
+<p>“Pshaw,” said Ben-Zayb, “not a one is worth a straw, not a one is an artist!”
+</p>
+<p>Ben-Zayb was the critic for <i>El Grito de la Integridad</i>, and his disdainful air gave him great importance in the eyes of those who were satisfied
+with so little.
+</p>
+<p>“Serpolette hasn’t any voice, nor Germaine grace, nor is that music, nor is it art,
+nor is it anything!” he concluded with marked contempt. To set oneself up as a great
+critic there is nothing like appearing to be discontented with everything. Besides,
+the management had sent only two seats for the newspaper staff.
+</p>
+<p>In the boxes curiosity was aroused as to who could be the possessor of the empty one,
+for that person, would surpass every one in chic, since he would be the last to arrive.
+The rumor started somewhere that it belonged to Simoun, and was confirmed: no one
+had seen the jeweler in the reserved seats, the greenroom, or anywhere else.
+</p>
+<p>“Yet I saw him this afternoon with Mr. Jouay,” some one said. “He presented a necklace
+to one of the actresses.”
+</p>
+<p>“To which one?” asked some of the inquisitive ladies.
+</p>
+<p>“To the finest of all, the one who made eyes at his Excellency.”
+</p>
+<p>This information was received with looks of intelligence, winks, exclamations of doubt,
+of confirmation, and half-uttered commentaries.
+</p>
+<p>“He’s trying to play the Monte Cristo,” remarked a lady who prided herself on being
+literary.
+</p>
+<p>“Or purveyor to the Palace!” added her escort, jealous of Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>In the students’ box, Pecson, Sandoval, and Isagani had remained, while Tadeo had
+gone to engage Don Custodio in conversation about his projects, and Makaraig to hold
+an interview with Pepay.
+</p>
+<p>“In no way, as I have observed to you before, friend <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3554">[<a href="#xd32e3554">222</a>]</span>Isagani,” declared Sandoval with violent gestures and a sonorous voice, so that the
+ladies near the box, the daughters of the rich man who was in debt to Tadeo, might
+hear him, “in no way does the French language possess the rich sonorousness or the
+varied and elegant cadence of the Castilian tongue. I cannot conceive, I cannot imagine,
+I cannot form any idea of French orators, and I doubt that they have ever had any
+or can have any now in the strict construction of the term orator, because we must
+not confuse the name orator with the words babbler and charlatan, for these can exist
+in any country, in all the regions of the inhabited world, among the cold and curt
+Englishmen as among the lively and impressionable Frenchmen.”
+</p>
+<p>Thus he delivered a magnificent review of the nations, with his poetical characterizations
+and most resounding epithets. Isagani nodded assent, with his thoughts fixed on Paulita,
+whom he had surprised gazing at him with an expressive look which contained a wealth
+of meaning. He tried to divine what those eyes were expressing—those eyes that were
+so eloquent and not at all deceptive.
+</p>
+<p>“Now you who are a poet, a slave to rhyme and meter, a son of the Muses,” continued
+Sandoval, with an elegant wave of his hand, as though he were saluting, on the horizon,
+the Nine Sisters, “do you comprehend, can you conceive, how a language so harsh and
+unmusical as French can give birth to poets of such gigantic stature as our Garcilasos,
+our Herreras, our Esproncedas, our Calderons?”
+</p>
+<p>“Nevertheless,” objected Pecson, “Victor Hugo—”
+</p>
+<p>“Victor Hugo, my friend Pecson, if Victor Hugo is a poet, it is because he owes it
+to Spain, because it is an established fact, it is a matter beyond all doubt, a thing
+admitted even by the Frenchmen themselves, so envious of Spain, that if Victor Hugo
+has genius, if he really is a poet, it is because his childhood was spent in Madrid;
+there he drank in his first impressions, there his brain was molded, there his imagination
+was colored, his heart modeled, and the most beautiful concepts of his mind born.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3562">[<a href="#xd32e3562">223</a>]</span>And after all, who is Victor Hugo? Is he to be compared at all with our modern—”
+</p>
+<p>This peroration was cut short by the return of Makaraig with a despondent air and
+a bitter smile on his lips, carrying in his hand a note, which he offered silently
+to Sandoval, who read:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">“MY DOVE: Your letter has reached me late, for I have already handed in my decision,
+and it has been approved. However, as if I had guessed your wish, I have decided the
+matter according to the desires of your protégés. I’ll be at the theater and wait
+for you after the performance.
+</p>
+<p class="xd32e144">“Your duckling,
+</p>
+<p class="xd32e3570">“CUSTODINING.”</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>“How tender the man is!” exclaimed Tadeo with emotion.
+</p>
+<p>“Well?” said Sandoval. “I don’t see anything wrong about this—quite the reverse!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” rejoined Makaraig with his bitter smile, “decided favorably! I’ve just seen
+Padre Irene.”
+</p>
+<p>“What does Padre Irene say?” inquired Pecson.
+</p>
+<p>“The same as Don Custodio, and the rascal still had the audacity to congratulate me.
+The Commission, which has taken as its own the decision of the arbiter, approves the
+idea and felicitates the students on their patriotism and their thirst for knowledge—”
+</p>
+<p>“Well?”
+</p>
+<p>“Only that, considering our duties—in short, it says that in order that the idea may
+not be lost, it concludes that the direction and execution of the plan should be placed
+in charge of one of the religious corporations, in case the Dominicans do not wish
+to incorporate the academy with the University.”
+</p>
+<p>Exclamations of disappointment greeted the announcement. Isagani rose, but said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>“And in order that we may participate in the management of the academy,” Makaraig
+went on, “we are intrusted with the collection of contributions and dues, with <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3583">[<a href="#xd32e3583">224</a>]</span>the obligation of turning them over to the treasurer whom the corporation may designate,
+which treasurer will issue us receipts.”
+</p>
+<p>“Then we’re tax-collectors!” remarked Tadeo.
+</p>
+<p>“Sandoval,” said Pecson, “there’s the gauntlet—take it up!”
+</p>
+<p>“Huh! That’s not a gauntlet—from its odor it seems more like a sock.”
+</p>
+<p>“The funniest, part of it,” Makaraig added, “is that Padre Irene has advised us to
+celebrate the event with a banquet or a torchlight procession—a public demonstration
+of the students <i>en masse</i> to render thanks to all the persons who have intervened in the affair.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, after the blow, let’s sing and give thanks. <i>Super flumina Babylonis sedimus</i>!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, a banquet like that of the convicts,” said Tadeo.
+</p>
+<p>“A banquet at which we all wear mourning and deliver funeral orations,” added Sandoval.
+</p>
+<p>“A serenade with the Marseillaise and funeral marches,” proposed Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“No, gentlemen,” observed Pecson with his clownish grin, “to celebrate the event there’s
+nothing like a banquet in a <i>pansitería</i>, served by the Chinamen without camisas. I insist, without camisas!”
+</p>
+<p>The sarcasm and grotesqueness of this idea won it ready acceptance, Sandoval being
+the first to applaud it, for he had long wished to see the interior of one of those
+establishments which at night appeared to be so merry and cheerful.
+</p>
+<p>Just as the orchestra struck up for the second act, the young men arose and left the
+theater, to the scandal of the whole house.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3607">[<a href="#xd32e3607">225</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch23" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e434">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">A Corpse</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Simoun had not, in fact, gone to the theater. Already, at seven o’clock in the evening,
+he had left his house looking worried and gloomy. His servants saw him return twice,
+accompanied by different individuals, and at eight o’clock Makaraig encountered him
+pacing along Calle Hospital near the nunnery of St. Clara, just when the bells of
+its church were ringing a funeral knell. At nine Camaroncocido saw him again, in the
+neighborhood of the theater, speak with a person who seemed to be a student, pay the
+latter’s admission to the show, and again disappear among the shadows of the trees.
+</p>
+<p>“What is it to me?” again muttered Camaroncocido. “What do I get out of watching over
+the populace?”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio, as Makaraig said, had not gone to the show. The poor student, after returning
+from San Diego, whither he had gone to ransom Juli, his future bride, from her servitude,
+had turned again to his studies, spending his time in the hospital, in studying, or
+in nursing Capitan Tiago, whose affliction he was trying to cure.
+</p>
+<p>The invalid had become an intolerable character. During his bad spells, when he felt
+depressed from lack of opium, the doses of which Basilio was trying to reduce, he
+would scold, mistreat, and abuse the boy, who bore it resignedly, conscious that he
+was doing good to one to whom he owed so much, and yielded only in the last extremity.
+His vicious appetite satisfied, Capitan Tiago would fall into a good humor, become
+tender, and call him his son, tearfully recalling the youth’s services, how well he
+administered the estates, and would even talk of making <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3618">[<a href="#xd32e3618">226</a>]</span>him his heir. Basilio would smile bitterly and reflect that in this world complaisance
+with vice is rewarded better than fulfilment of duty. Not a few times did he feel
+tempted to give free rein to the craving and conduct his benefactor to the grave by
+a path of flowers and smiling illusions rather than lengthen his life along a road
+of sacrifice.
+</p>
+<p>“What a fool I am!” he often said to himself. “People are stupid and then pay for
+it.”
+</p>
+<p>But he would shake his head as he thought of Juli, of the wide future before him.
+He counted upon living without a stain on his conscience, so he continued the treatment
+prescribed, and bore everything patiently.
+</p>
+<p>Yet with all his care the sick man, except for short periods of improvement, grew
+worse. Basilio had planned gradually to reduce the amount of the dose, or at least
+not to let him injure himself by increasing it, but on returning from the hospital
+or some visit he would find his patient in the heavy slumber produced by the opium,
+driveling, pale as a corpse. The young man could not explain whence the drug came:
+the only two persons who visited the house were Simoun and Padre Irene, the former
+rarely, while the latter never ceased exhorting him to be severe and inexorable with
+the treatment, to take no notice of the invalid’s ravings, for the main object was
+to save him.
+</p>
+<p>“Do your duty, young man,” was Padre Irene’s constant admonition. “Do your duty.”
+Then he would deliver a sermon on this topic with such great conviction and enthusiasm
+that Basilio would begin to feel kindly toward the preacher. Besides, Padre Irene
+promised to get him a fine assignment, a good province, and even hinted at the possibility
+of having him appointed a professor. Without being carried away by illusions, Basilio
+pretended to believe in them and went on obeying the dictates of his own conscience.
+</p>
+<p>That night, while <i>Les Cloches de Corneville</i> was being presented, Basilio was studying at an old table by the light <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3628">[<a href="#xd32e3628">227</a>]</span>of an oil-lamp, whose thick glass globe partly illuminated his melancholy features.
+An old skull, some human bones, and a few books carefully arranged covered the table,
+whereon there was also a pan of water with a sponge. The smell of opium that proceeded
+from the adjoining bedroom made the air heavy and inclined him to sleep, but he overcame
+the desire by bathing his temples and eyes from time to time, determined not to go
+to sleep until he had finished the book, which he had borrowed and must return as
+soon as possible. It was a volume of the <i lang="es">Medicina Legal y Toxicología</i> of Dr. Friata, the only book that the professor would use, and Basilio lacked money
+to buy a copy, since, under the pretext of its being forbidden by the censor in Manila
+and the necessity for bribing many government employees to get it in, the booksellers
+charged a high price for it.
+</p>
+<p>So absorbed was the youth in his studies that he had not given any attention at all
+to some pamphlets that had been sent to him from some unknown source, pamphlets that
+treated of the Philippines, among which figured those that were attracting the greatest
+notice at the time because of their harsh and insulting manner of referring to the
+natives of the country. Basilio had no time to open them, and he was perhaps restrained
+also by the thought that there is nothing pleasant about receiving an insult or a
+provocation without having any means of replying or defending oneself. The censorship,
+in fact, permitted insults to the Filipinos but prohibited replies on their part.
+</p>
+<p>In the midst of the silence that reigned in the house, broken only by a feeble snore
+that issued now and then from the adjoining bedroom, Basilio heard light footfalls
+on the stairs, footfalls that soon crossed the hallway and approached the room where
+he was. Raising his head, he saw the door open and to his great surprise appeared
+the sinister figure of the jeweler Simoun, who since the scene in San Diego had not
+come to visit either himself or Capitan Tiago.
+</p>
+<p>“How is the sick man?” he inquired, throwing a rapid <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3638">[<a href="#xd32e3638">228</a>]</span>glance about the room and fixing his attention on the pamphlets, the leaves of which
+were still uncut.
+</p>
+<p>“The beating of his heart is scarcely perceptible, his pulse is very weak, his appetite
+entirely gone,” replied Basilio in a low voice with a sad smile. “He sweats profusely
+in the early morning.”
+</p>
+<p>Noticing that Simoun kept his face turned toward the pamphlets and fearing that he
+might reopen the subject of their conversation in the wood, he went on: “His system
+is saturated with poison. He may die any day, as though struck by lightning. The least
+irritation, any excitement may kill him.”
+</p>
+<p>“Like the Philippines!” observed Simoun lugubriously.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio was unable to refrain from a gesture of impatience, but he was determined
+not to recur to the old subject, so he proceeded as if he had heard nothing: “What
+weakens him the most is the nightmares, his terrors—”
+</p>
+<p>“Like the government!” again interrupted Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“Several nights ago he awoke in the dark and thought that he had gone blind. He raised
+a disturbance, lamenting and scolding me, saying that I had put his eyes out. When
+I entered his room with a light he mistook me for Padre Irene and called me his saviour.”
+</p>
+<p>“Like the government, exactly!”
+</p>
+<p>“Last night,” continued Basilio, paying no attention, “he got up begging for his favorite
+game-cock, the one that died three years ago, and I had to give him a chicken. Then
+he heaped blessings upon me and promised me many thousands—”
+</p>
+<p>At that instant a clock struck half-past ten. Simoun shuddered and stopped the youth
+with a gesture.
+</p>
+<p>“Basilio,” he said in a low, tense voice, “listen to me carefully, for the moments
+are precious. I see that you haven’t opened the pamphlets that I sent you. You’re
+not interested in your country.”
+</p>
+<p>The youth started to protest.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s useless,” went on Simoun dryly. “Within an <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3654">[<a href="#xd32e3654">229</a>]</span>hour the revolution is going to break out at a signal from me, and tomorrow there’ll
+be no studies, there’ll be no University, there’ll be nothing but fighting and butchery.
+I have everything ready and my success is assured. When we triumph, all those who
+could have helped us and did not do so will be treated as enemies. Basilio, I’ve come
+to offer you death or a future!”
+</p>
+<p>“Death or a future!” the boy echoed, as though he did not understand.
+</p>
+<p>“With us or with the government,” rejoined Simoun. “With your country or with your
+oppressors. Decide, for time presses! I’ve come to save you because of the memories
+that unite us!”
+</p>
+<p>“With my country or with the oppressors!” repeated Basilio in a low tone. The youth
+was stupefied. He gazed at the jeweler with eyes in which terror was reflected, he
+felt his limbs turn cold, while a thousand confused ideas whirled about in his mind.
+He saw the streets running blood, he heard the firing, he found himself among the
+dead and wounded, and by the peculiar force of his inclinations fancied himself in
+an operator’s blouse, cutting off legs and extracting bullets.
+</p>
+<p>“The will of the government is in my hands,” said Simoun. “I’ve diverted and wasted
+its feeble strength and resources on foolish expeditions, dazzling it with the plunder
+it might seize. Its heads are now in the theater, calm and unsuspecting, thinking
+of a night of pleasure, but not one shall again repose upon a pillow. I have men and
+regiments at my disposition: some I have led to believe that the uprising is ordered
+by the General; others that the friars are bringing it about; some I have bought with
+promises, with employments, with money; many, very many, are acting from revenge,
+because they are oppressed and see it as a matter of killing or being killed. Cabesang
+Tales is below, he has come with me here! Again I ask you—will you come with us or
+do you prefer to expose yourself to the resentment of my followers? In critical moments,
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3661">[<a href="#xd32e3661">230</a>]</span>to declare oneself neutral is to be exposed to the wrath of both the contending parties.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio rubbed his hand over his face several times, as if he were trying to wake
+from a nightmare. He felt that his brow was cold.
+</p>
+<p>“Decide!” repeated Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“And what—what would I have to do?” asked the youth in a weak and broken voice.
+</p>
+<p>“A very simple thing,” replied Simoun, his face lighting up with a ray of hope. “As
+I have to direct the movement, I cannot get away from the scene of action. I want
+you, while the attention of the whole city is directed elsewhere, at the head of a
+company to force the doors of the nunnery of St. Clara and take from there a person
+whom only you, besides myself and Capitan Tiago, can recognize. You’ll run no risk
+at all.”
+</p>
+<p>“Maria Clara!” exclaimed Basilio.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, Maria Clara,” repeated Simoun, and for the first time his voice became human
+and compassionate. “I want to save her; to save her I have wished to live, I have
+returned. I am starting the revolution, because only a revolution can open the doors
+of the nunneries.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ay!” sighed Basilio, clasping his hands. “You’ve come late, too late!”
+</p>
+<p>“Why?” inquired Simoun with a frown.
+</p>
+<p>“Maria Clara is dead!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun arose with a bound and stood over the youth. “She’s dead?” he demanded in a
+terrible voice.
+</p>
+<p>“This afternoon, at six. By now she must be—”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s a lie!” roared Simoun, pale and beside himself. “It’s false! Maria Clara lives,
+Maria Clara must live! It’s a cowardly excuse! She’s not dead, and this night I’ll
+free her or tomorrow you die!”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio shrugged his shoulders. “Several days ago she was taken ill and I went to
+the nunnery for news of her. Look, here is Padre Salvi’s letter, brought by Padre
+Irene. Capitan Tiago wept all the evening, kissing his daughter’s <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3678">[<a href="#xd32e3678">231</a>]</span>picture and begging her forgiveness, until at last he smoked an enormous quantity
+of opium. This evening her knell was tolled.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Simoun, pressing his hands to his head and standing motionless. He
+remembered to have actually heard the knell while he was pacing about in the vicinity
+of the nunnery.
+</p>
+<p>“Dead!” he murmured in a voice so low that it seemed to be a ghost whispering. “Dead!
+Dead without my having seen her, dead without knowing that I lived for her—dead!”
+</p>
+<p>Feeling a terrible storm, a tempest of whirlwind and thunder without a drop of water,
+sobs without tears, cries without words, rage in his breast and threaten to burst
+out like burning lava long repressed, he rushed precipitately from the room. Basilio
+heard him descend the stairs with unsteady tread, stepping heavily, he heard a stifled
+cry, a cry that seemed to presage death, so solemn, deep, and sad that he arose from
+his chair pale and trembling, but he could hear the footsteps die away and the noisy
+closing of the door to the street.
+</p>
+<p>“Poor fellow!” he murmured, while his eyes filled with tears. Heedless now of his
+studies, he let his gaze wander into space as he pondered over the fate of those two
+beings: he—young, rich, educated, master of his fortunes, with a brilliant future
+before him; she—fair as a dream, pure, full of faith and innocence, nurtured amid
+love and laughter, destined to a happy existence, to be adored in the family and respected
+in the world; and yet of those two beings, filled with love, with illusions and hopes,
+by a fatal destiny he wandered over the world, dragged ceaselessly through a whirl
+of blood and tears, sowing evil instead of doing good, undoing virtue and encouraging
+vice, while she was dying in the mysterious shadows of the cloister where she had
+sought peace and perhaps found suffering, where she entered pure and stainless and
+expired like a crushed flower!
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3686">[<a href="#xd32e3686">232</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Sleep in peace, ill-starred daughter of my hapless fatherland! Bury in the grave the
+enchantments of youth, faded in their prime! When a people cannot offer its daughters
+a tranquil home under the protection of sacred liberty, when a man can only leave
+to his widow blushes, tears to his mother, and slavery to his children, you do well
+to condemn yourself to perpetual chastity, stifling within you the germ of a future
+generation accursed! Well for you that you have not to shudder in your grave, hearing
+the cries of those who groan in darkness, of those who feel that they have wings and
+yet are fettered, of those who are stifled from lack of liberty! Go, go with your
+poet’s dreams into the regions of the infinite, spirit of woman dim-shadowed in the
+moonlight’s beam, whispered in the bending arches of the bamboo-brakes! Happy she
+who dies lamented, she who leaves in the heart that loves her a pure picture, a sacred
+remembrance, unspotted by the base passions engendered by the years! Go, we shall
+remember you! In the clear air of our native land, under its azure sky, above the
+billows of the lake set amid sapphire hills and emerald shores, in the crystal streams
+shaded by the bamboos, bordered by flowers, enlivened by the beetles and butterflies
+with their uncertain and wavering flight as though playing with the air, in the silence
+of our forests, in the singing of our rivers, in the diamond showers of our waterfalls,
+in the resplendent light of our moon, in the sighs of the night breeze, in all that
+may call up the vision of the beloved, we must eternally see you as we dreamed of
+you, fair, beautiful, radiant with hope, pure as the light, yet still sad and melancholy
+in the contemplation of our woes!
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3689">[<a href="#xd32e3689">233</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch24" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e444">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Dreams</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="es">Amor, qué astro eres?</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>On the following day, Thursday, at the hour of sunset, Isagani was walking along the
+beautiful promenade of Maria Cristina in the direction of the Malecon to keep an appointment
+which Paulita had that morning given him. The young man had no doubt that they were
+to talk about what had happened on the previous night, and as he was determined to
+ask for an explanation, and knew how proud and haughty she was, he foresaw an estrangement.
+In view of this eventuality he had brought with him the only two letters he had ever
+received from Paulita, two scraps of paper, whereon were merely a few hurriedly written
+lines with various blots, but in an even handwriting, things that did not prevent
+the enamored youth from preserving them with more solicitude than if they had been
+the autographs of Sappho and the Muse Polyhymnia.
+</p>
+<p>This decision to sacrifice his love on the altar of dignity, the consciousness of
+suffering in the discharge of duty, did not prevent a profound melancholy from taking
+possession of Isagani and brought back into his mind the beautiful days, and nights
+more beautiful still, when they had whispered sweet nothings through the flowered
+gratings of the entresol, nothings that to the youth took on such a character of seriousness
+and importance that they seemed to him the only matters worthy of meriting the attention
+of the most exalted human understanding. He recalled the walks on moonlit nights,
+the fair, the dark December mornings after the mass of Nativity, the holy water that
+he used to offer her, when she would thank him with a look charged <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3701">[<a href="#xd32e3701">234</a>]</span>with a whole epic of love, both of them trembling as their fingers touched. Heavy
+sighs, like small rockets, issued from his breast and brought back to him all the
+verses, all the sayings of poets and writers about the inconstancy of woman. Inwardly
+he cursed the creation of theaters, the French operetta, and vowed to get revenge
+on Pelaez at the first opportunity. Everything about him appeared under the saddest
+and somberest colors: the bay, deserted and solitary, seemed more solitary still on
+account of the few steamers that were anchored in it; the sun was dying behind Mariveles
+without poetry or enchantment, without the capricious and richly tinted clouds of
+happier evenings; the Anda monument, in bad taste, mean and squat, without style,
+without grandeur, looked like a lump of ice-cream or at best a chunk of cake; the
+people who were promenading along the Malecon, in spite of their complacent and contented
+air, appeared distant, haughty, and vain; mischievous and bad-mannered, the boys that
+played on the beach, skipping flat stones over the surface of the water or searching
+in the sand for mollusks and crustaceans which they caught for the mere fun of catching
+and killed without benefit to themselves; in short, even the eternal port works to
+which he had dedicated more than three odes, looked to him absurd, ridiculous child’s
+play.
+</p>
+<p>The port, ah, the port of Manila, a bastard that since its conception had brought
+tears of humiliation and shame to all! If only after so many tears there were not
+being brought forth a useless abortion!
+</p>
+<p>Abstractedly he saluted two Jesuits, former teachers of his, and scarcely noticed
+a tandem in which an American rode and excited the envy of the gallants who were in
+calesas only. Near the Anda monument he heard Ben-Zayb talking with another person
+about Simoun, learning that the latter had on the previous night been taken suddenly
+ill, that he refused to see any one, even the very aides of the General. “Yes!” exclaimed
+Isagani with a bitter smile, “for him attentions because he is rich. The soldiers
+return <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3706">[<a href="#xd32e3706">235</a>]</span>from their expeditions sick and wounded, but no one visits them.”
+</p>
+<p>Musing over these expeditions, over the fate of the poor soldiers, over the resistance
+offered by the islanders to the foreign yoke, he thought that, death for death, if
+that of the soldiers was glorious because they were obeying orders, that of the islanders
+was sublime because they were defending their homes.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3710src" href="#xd32e3710">1</a>
+</p>
+<p>“A strange destiny, that of some peoples!” he mused. “Because a traveler arrives at
+their shores, they lose their liberty and become subjects and slaves, not only of
+the traveler, not only of his heirs, but even of all his countrymen, and not for a
+generation, but for all time! A strange conception of justice! Such a state of affairs
+gives ample right to exterminate every foreigner as the most ferocious monster that
+the sea can cast up!”
+</p>
+<p>He reflected that those islanders, against whom his country was waging war, after
+all were guilty of no crime other than that of weakness. The travelers also arrived
+at the shores of other peoples, but finding them strong made no display of their strange
+pretension. With all their weakness the spectacle they presented seemed beautiful
+to him, and the names of the enemies, whom the newspapers did not fail to call cowards
+and traitors, appeared glorious to him, as they succumbed with glory amid the ruins
+of their crude fortifications, with greater glory even than the ancient Trojan heroes,
+for those islanders had carried away no Philippine Helen! In his poetic enthusiasm
+he thought of the young men of those islands who could cover themselves with glory
+in the eyes of their women, and in his amorous desperation he envied them because
+they could find a brilliant suicide.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3719">[<a href="#xd32e3719">236</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Ah, I should like to die,” he exclaimed, “be reduced to nothingness, leave to my
+native land a glorious name, perish in its cause, defending it from foreign invasion,
+and then let the sun afterwards illumine my corpse, like a motionless sentinel on
+the rocks of the sea!”
+</p>
+<p>The conflict with the Germans<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3724src" href="#xd32e3724">2</a> came into his mind and he almost felt sorry that it had been adjusted: he would gladly
+have died for the Spanish-Filipino banner before submitting to the foreigner.
+</p>
+<p>“Because, after all,” he mused, “with Spain we are united by firm bonds—the past,
+history, religion, language—”
+</p>
+<p>Language, yes, language! A sarcastic smile curled his lips. That very night they would
+hold a banquet in the <i>pansitería</i> to <i>celebrate</i> the demise of the academy of Castilian.
+</p>
+<p>“Ay!” he sighed, “provided the liberals in Spain are like those we have here, in a
+little while the mother country will be able to count the number of the faithful!”
+</p>
+<p>Slowly the night descended, and with it melancholy settled more heavily upon the heart
+of the young man, who had almost lost hope of seeing Paulita. The promenaders one
+by one left the Malecon for the Luneta, the music from which was borne to him in snatches
+of melodies on the fresh evening breeze; the sailors on a warship anchored in the
+river performed their evening drill, skipping about among the slender ropes like spiders;
+the boats one by one lighted their lamps, thus giving signs of life; while the beach,
+</p>
+<div lang="es" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">Do el viento riza las calladas olas
+</p>
+<p class="line">Que con blando murmullo en la ribera
+</p>
+<p class="line">Se deslizan veloces por sí solas.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3741src" href="#xd32e3741">3</a></p>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3743">[<a href="#xd32e3743">237</a>]</span></p>
+<p class="first">as Alaejos says, exhaled in the distance thin, vapors that the moon, now at its full,
+gradually converted into mysterious transparent gauze.
+</p>
+<p>A distant sound became audible, a noise that rapidly approached. Isagani turned his
+head and his heart began to beat violently. A carriage was coming, drawn by white
+horses, the white horses that he would know among a hundred thousand. In the carriage
+rode Paulita and her friend of the night before, with Doña Victorina.
+</p>
+<p>Before the young man could take a step, Paulita had leaped to the ground with sylph-like
+agility and smiled at him with a smile full of conciliation. He smiled in return,
+and it seemed to him that all the clouds, all the black thoughts that before had beset
+him, vanished like smoke, the sky lighted up, the breeze sang, flowers covered the
+grass by the roadside. But unfortunately Doña Victorina was there and she pounced
+upon the young man to ask him for news of Don Tiburcio, since Isagani had undertaken
+to discover his hiding-place by inquiry among the students he knew.
+</p>
+<p>“No one has been able to tell me up to now,” he answered, and he was telling the truth,
+for Don Tiburcio was really hidden in the house of the youth’s own uncle, Padre Florentino.
+</p>
+<p>“Let him know,” declared Doña Victorina furiously, “that I’ll call in the Civil Guard.
+Alive or dead, I want to know where he is—because one has to wait ten years before
+marrying again.”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani gazed at her in fright—Doña Victorina was thinking of remarrying! Who could
+the unfortunate be?
+</p>
+<p>“What do you think of Juanito Pelaez?” she asked him suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito! Isagani knew not what to reply. He was tempted to tell all the evil he knew
+of Pelaez, but a feeling of delicacy triumphed in his heart and he spoke well of his
+rival, for the very reason that he was such. Doña Victorina, entirely satisfied and
+becoming enthusiastic, then <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3754">[<a href="#xd32e3754">238</a>]</span>broke out into exaggerations of Pelaez’s merits and was already going to make Isagani
+a confidant of her new passion when Paulita’s friend came running to say that the
+former’s fan had fallen among the stones of the beach, near the Malecon. Stratagem
+or accident, the fact is that this mischance gave an excuse for the friend to remain
+with the old woman, while Isagani might talk with Paulita. Moreover, it was a matter
+of rejoicing to Doña Victorina, since to get Juanito for herself she was favoring
+Isagani’s love.
+</p>
+<p>Paulita had her plan ready. On thanking him she assumed the role of the offended party,
+showed resentment, and gave him to understand that she was surprised to meet him there
+when everybody was on the Luneta, even the French actresses.
+</p>
+<p>“You made the appointment for me, how could I be elsewhere?”
+</p>
+<p>“Yet last night you did not even notice that I was in the theater. I was watching
+you all the time and you never took your eyes off those <i>cochers</i>.”
+</p>
+<p>So they exchanged parts: Isagani, who had come to demand explanations, found himself
+compelled to give them and considered himself very happy when Paulita said that she
+forgave him. In regard to her presence at the theater, he even had to thank her for
+that: forced by her aunt, she had decided to go in the hope of seeing him during the
+performance. Little she cared for Juanito Pelaez!
+</p>
+<p>“My aunt’s the one who is in love with him,” she said with a merry laugh.
+</p>
+<p>Then they both laughed, for the marriage of Pelaez with Doña Victorina made them really
+happy, and they saw it already an accomplished fact, until Isagani remembered that
+Don Tiburcio was still living and confided the secret to his sweetheart, after exacting
+her promise that she would tell no one. Paulita promised, with the mental reservation
+of relating it to her friend.
+</p>
+<p>This led the conversation to Isagani’s town, surrounded <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3767">[<a href="#xd32e3767">239</a>]</span>by forests, situated on the shore of the sea which roared at the base of the high
+cliffs. Isagani’s gaze lighted up when he spoke of that obscure spot, a flush of pride
+overspread his cheeks, his voice trembled, his poetic imagination glowed, his words
+poured forth burning, charged with enthusiasm, as if he were talking of love to his
+love, and he could not but exclaim:
+</p>
+<p>“Oh, in the solitude of my mountains I feel free, free as the air, as the light that
+shoots unbridled through space! A thousand cities, a thousand palaces, would I give
+for that spot in the Philippines, where, far from men, I could feel myself to have
+genuine liberty. There, face to face with nature, in the presence of the mysterious
+and the infinite, the forest and the sea, I think, speak, and work like a man who
+knows not tyrants.”
+</p>
+<p>In the presence of such enthusiasm for his native place, an enthusiasm that she did
+not comprehend, for she was accustomed to hear her country spoken ill of, and sometimes
+joined in the chorus herself, Paulita manifested some jealousy, as usual making herself
+the offended party.
+</p>
+<p>But Isagani very quickly pacified her. “Yes,” he said, “I loved it above all things
+before I knew you! It was my delight to wander through the thickets, to sleep in the
+shade of the trees, to seat myself upon a cliff to take in with my gaze the Pacific
+which rolled its blue waves before me, bringing to me echoes of songs learned on the
+shores of free America. Before knowing you, that sea was for me my world, my delight,
+my love, my dream! When it slept in calm with the sun shining overhead, it was my
+delight to gaze into the abyss hundreds of feet below me, seeking monsters in the
+forests of madrepores and coral that were revealed through the limpid blue, enormous
+serpents that the country folk say leave the forests to dwell in the sea, and there
+take on frightful forms. Evening, they say, is the time when the sirens appear, and
+I saw them between the waves—so great was my eagerness that once I thought I could
+discern them amid the foam, busy in their divine <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3774">[<a href="#xd32e3774">240</a>]</span>sports, I distinctly heard their songs, songs of liberty, and I made out the sounds
+of their silvery harps. Formerly I spent hours and hours watching the transformations
+in the clouds, or gazing at a solitary tree in the plain or a high rock, without knowing
+why, without being able to explain the vague feelings they awoke in me. My uncle used
+to preach long sermons to me, and fearing that I would become a hypochondriac, talked
+of placing me under a doctor’s care. But I met you, I loved you, and during the last
+vacation it seemed that something was lacking there, the forest was gloomy, sad the
+river that glides through the shadows, dreary the sea, deserted the sky. Ah, if you
+should go there once, if your feet should press those paths, if you should stir the
+waters of the rivulet with your fingers, if you should gaze upon the sea, sit upon
+the cliff, or make the air ring with your melodious songs, my forest would be transformed
+into an Eden, the ripples of the brook would sing, light would burst from the dark
+leaves, into diamonds would be converted the dewdrops and into pearls the foam of
+the sea.”
+</p>
+<p>But Paulita had heard that to reach Isagani’s home it was necessary to cross mountains
+where little leeches abounded, and at the mere thought of them the little coward shivered
+convulsively. Humored and petted, she declared that she would travel only in a carriage
+or a railway train.
+</p>
+<p>Having now forgotten all his pessimism and seeing only thornless roses about him,
+Isagani answered, “Within a short time all the islands are going to be crossed with
+networks of iron rails.
+</p>
+<div lang="es" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">“ ‘Por donde rápidas
+</p>
+<p class="line">Y voladoras
+</p>
+<p class="line">Locomotoras
+</p>
+<p class="line">Corriendo irán,’<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3784src" href="#xd32e3784">4</a></p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">as some one said. Then the most beautiful spots of the islands will be accessible
+to all.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3788">[<a href="#xd32e3788">241</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Then, but when? When I’m an old woman?”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, you don’t know what we can do in a few years,” replied the youth. “You don’t
+realize the energy and enthusiasm that are awakening in the country after the sleep
+of centuries. Spain heeds us; our young men in Madrid are working day and night, dedicating
+to the fatherland all their intelligence, all their time, all their strength. Generous
+voices there are mingled with ours, statesmen who realize that there is no better
+bond than community of thought and interest. Justice will be meted out to us, and
+everything points to a brilliant future for all. It’s true that we’ve just met with
+a slight rebuff, we students, but victory is rolling along the whole line, it is in
+the consciousness of all! The traitorous repulse that we have suffered indicates the
+last gasp, the final convulsions of the dying. Tomorrow we shall be citizens of the
+Philippines, whose destiny will be a glorious one, because it will be in loving hands.
+Ah, yes, the future is ours! I see it rose-tinted, I see the movement that stirs the
+life of these regions so long dead, lethargic. I see towns arise along the railroads,
+and factories everywhere, edifices like that of Mandaloyan! I hear the steam hiss,
+the trains roar, the engines rattle! I see the smoke rise—their heavy breathing; I
+smell the oil—the sweat of monsters busy at incessant toil. This port, so slow and
+laborious of creation, this river where commerce is in its death agony, we shall see
+covered with masts, giving us an idea of the forests of Europe in winter. This pure
+air, and these stones, now so clean, will be crowded with coal, with boxes and barrels,
+the products of human industry, but let it not matter, for we shall move about rapidly
+in comfortable coaches to seek in the interior other air, other scenes on other shores,
+cooler temperatures on the slopes of the mountains. The warships of our navy will
+guard our coasts, the Spaniard and the Filipino will rival each other in zeal to repel
+all foreign invasion, to defend our homes, and let you bask in peace and smiles, loved
+and respected. Free from the system of exploitation, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3792">[<a href="#xd32e3792">242</a>]</span>without hatred or distrust, the people will labor because then labor will cease to
+be a despicable thing, it will no longer be servile, imposed upon a slave. Then the
+Spaniard will not embitter his character with ridiculous pretensions of despotism,
+but with a frank look and a stout heart we shall extend our hands to one another,
+and commerce, industry, agriculture, the sciences, will develop under the mantle of
+liberty, with wise and just laws, as in prosperous England.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3794src" href="#xd32e3794">5</a>
+</p>
+<p>Paulita smiled dubiously and shook her head. “Dreams, dreams!” she sighed. “I’ve heard
+it said that you have many enemies. Aunt says that this country must always be enslaved.”
+</p>
+<p>“Because your aunt is a fool, because she can’t live without slaves! When she hasn’t
+them she dreams of them in the future, and if they are not obtainable she forces them
+into her imagination. True it is that we have enemies, that there will be a struggle,
+but we shall conquer. The old system may convert the ruins of its castle into formless
+barricades, but we will take them singing hymns of liberty, in the light of the eyes
+of you women, to the applause of your lovely hands. But do not be uneasy—the struggle
+will be a pacific one. Enough that you spur us to zeal, that you awake in us noble
+and elevated thoughts and encourage us <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3801">[<a href="#xd32e3801">243</a>]</span>to constancy, to heroism, with your affection for our reward.”
+</p>
+<p>Paulita preserved her enigmatic smile and seemed thoughtful, as she gazed toward the
+river, patting her cheek lightly with her fan. “But if you accomplish nothing?” she
+asked abstractedly.
+</p>
+<p>The question hurt Isagani. He fixed his eyes on his sweetheart, caught her lightly
+by the hand, and began: “Listen, if we accomplish nothing—”
+</p>
+<p>He paused in doubt, then resumed: “You know how I love you, how I adore you, you know
+that I feel myself a different creature when your gaze enfolds me, when I surprise
+in it the flash of love, but yet if we accomplish nothing, I would dream of another
+look of yours and would die happy, because the light of pride could burn in your eyes
+when you pointed to my corpse and said to the world: ‘My love died fighting for the
+rights of my fatherland!’ ”
+</p>
+<p>“Come home, child, you’re going to catch cold,” screeched Doña Victorina at that instant,
+and the voice brought them back to reality. It was time to return, and they kindly
+invited him to enter the carriage, an invitation which the young man did not give
+them cause to repeat. As it was Paulita’s carriage, naturally Doña Victorina and the
+friend occupied the back seat, while the two lovers sat on the smaller one in front.
+</p>
+<p>To ride in the same carriage, to have her at his side, to breathe her perfume, to
+rub against the silk of her dress, to see her pensive with folded arms, lighted by
+the moon of the Philippines that lends to the meanest things idealism and enchantment,
+were all dreams beyond Isagani’s hopes! What wretches they who were returning alone
+on foot and had to give way to the swift carriage! In the whole course of the drive,
+along the beach and down the length of La Sabana, across the Bridge of Spain, Isagani
+saw nothing but a sweet profile, gracefully set off by beautiful hair, ending in an
+arching neck that lost itself amid the gauzy piña. A diamond winked at him from the
+lobe of the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3810">[<a href="#xd32e3810">244</a>]</span>little ear, like a star among silvery clouds. He heard faint echoes inquiring for
+Don Tiburcio de Espadaña, the name of Juanito Pelaez, but they sounded to him like
+distant bells, the confused noises heard in a dream. It was necessary to tell him
+that they had reached Plaza Santa Cruz.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3812">[<a href="#xd32e3812">245</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3710">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3710src">1</a></span> Referring to the expeditions—<i lang="es">Misión Española Católica</i>—to the Caroline and Pelew Islands from 1886 to 1895, headed by the Capuchin Fathers,
+which brought misery and disaster upon the natives of those islands, unprofitable
+losses and sufferings to the Filipino soldiers engaged in them, discredit to Spain,
+and decorations of merit to a number of Spanish officers.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3710src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3724">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3724src">2</a></span> Over the possession of the Caroline and Pelew Islands. The expeditions referred to
+in the previous note were largely inspired by German activity with regard to those
+islands, which had always been claimed by Spain, who sold her claim to them to Germany
+after the loss of the Philippines.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3724src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3741" lang="en">
+<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3741src">3</a></span> “Where the wind wrinkles the silent waves, that rapidly break,
+of their own movement, with a gentle murmur on the shore.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3741src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3784" lang="en">
+<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3784src">4</a></span> “Where rapid and winged engines will rush in flight.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3784src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3794">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3794src">5</a></span> There is something almost uncanny about the general accuracy of the prophecy in these
+lines, the economic part of which is now so well on the way to realization, although
+the writer of them would doubtless have been a very much surprised individual had
+he also foreseen how it would come about. But one of his own expressions was “fire
+and steel to the cancer,” and it surely got them.
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">On the very day that this passage was translated and this note written, the first
+commercial liner was tied up at the new docks, which have destroyed the Malecon but
+raised Manila to the front rank of Oriental seaports, and the final revision is made
+at Baguio, Mountain Province, amid the “cooler temperatures on the slopes of the mountains.”
+As for the political portion, it is difficult even now to contemplate calmly the blundering
+fatuity of that bigoted medieval brand of “patriotism” which led the decrepit Philippine
+government to play the Ancient Mariner and shoot the Albatross that brought this message.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3794src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch25" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e454">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Smiles and Tears</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">The sala of the <i>Pansiteria Macanista de Buen Gusto</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3820src" href="#xd32e3820">1</a> that night presented an extraordinary aspect. Fourteen young men of the principal
+islands of the archipelago, from the pure Indian (if there be pure ones) to the Peninsular
+Spaniard, were met to hold the banquet advised by Padre Irene in view of the happy
+solution of the affair about instruction in Castilian. They had engaged all the tables
+for themselves, ordered the lights to be increased, and had posted on the wall beside
+the landscapes and Chinese kakemonos this strange versicle:
+</p>
+<p>“GLORY TO CUSTODIO FOR HIS CLEVERNESS AND PANSIT ON EABTH TO THE YOUTHS OF GOOD WILL.”
+</p>
+<p>In a country where everything grotesque is covered with a mantle of seriousness, where
+many rise by the force of wind and hot air, in a country where the deeply serious
+and sincere may do damage on issuing from the heart and may cause trouble, probably
+this was the best way to celebrate the ingenious inspiration of the illustrious Don
+Custodio. The mocked replied to the mockery with a laugh, to the governmental joke
+with a plate of <i>pansit</i>, and yet—!
+</p>
+<p>They laughed and jested, but it could be seen that the merriment was forced. The laughter
+had a certain nervous ring, eyes flashed, and in more than one of these a tear glistened.
+Nevertheless, these young men were cruel, they were unreasonable! It was not the first
+time that their most <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3832">[<a href="#xd32e3832">246</a>]</span>beautiful ideas had been so treated, that their hopes had been defrauded with big
+words and small actions: before this Don Custodio there had been many, very many others.
+</p>
+<p>In the center of the room under the red lanterns were placed four round tables, systematically
+arranged to form a square. Little wooden stools, equally round, served as seats. In
+the middle of each table, according to the practise of the establishment, were arranged
+four small colored plates with four pies on each one and four cups of tea, with the
+accompanying dishes, all of red porcelain. Before each seat was a bottle and two glittering
+wine-glasses.
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval was curious and gazed about scrutinizing everything, tasting the food, examining
+the pictures, reading the bill of fare. The others conversed on the topics of the
+day: about the French actresses, about the mysterious illness of Simoun, who, according
+to some, had been found wounded in the street, while others averred that he had attempted
+to commit suicide. As was natural, all lost themselves in conjectures. Tadeo gave
+his particular version, which according to him came from a reliable source: Simoun
+had been assaulted by some unknown person in the old Plaza Vivac,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3837src" href="#xd32e3837">2</a> the motive being revenge, in proof of which was the fact that Simoun himself refused
+to make the least explanation. From this they proceeded to talk of mysterious revenges,
+and naturally of monkish pranks, each one relating the exploits of the curate of his
+town.
+</p>
+<p>A notice in large black letters crowned the frieze of the room with this warning:
+</p>
+<div lang="es" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">De esta fonda el cabecilla
+</p>
+<p class="line">Al publico advierte
+</p>
+<p class="line">Que nada dejen absolutamente
+</p>
+<p class="line">Sobre alguna mesa ó silla.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e3847src" href="#xd32e3847">3</a></p>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3849">[<a href="#xd32e3849">247</a>]</span></p>
+<p class="first">“What a notice!” exclaimed Sandoval. “As if he might have confidence in the police,
+eh? And what verses! Don Tiburcio converted into a quatrain—two feet, one longer than
+the other, between two crutches! If Isagani sees them, he’ll present them to his future
+aunt.”
+</p>
+<p>“Here’s Isagani!” called a voice from the stairway. The happy youth appeared radiant
+with joy, followed by two Chinese, without camisas, who carried on enormous waiters
+tureens that gave out an appetizing odor. Merry exclamations greeted them.
+</p>
+<p>Juanito Pelaez was missing, but the hour fixed had already passed, so they sat down
+happily to the tables. Juanito was always unconventional.
+</p>
+<p>“If in his place we had invited Basilio,” said Tadeo, “we should have been better
+entertained. We might have got him drunk and drawn some secrets from him.”
+</p>
+<p>“What, does the prudent Basilio possess secrets?”
+</p>
+<p>“I should say so!” replied Tadeo. “Of the most important kind. There are some enigmas
+to which he alone has the key: the boy who disappeared, the nun—”
+</p>
+<p>“Gentlemen, the <i>pansit lang-lang</i> is the soup <i>par excellence</i>!” cried Makaraig. “As you will observe, Sandoval, it is composed of vermicelli, crabs
+or shrimps, egg paste, scraps of chicken, and I don’t know what else. As first-fruits,
+let us offer the bones to Don Custodio, to see if he will project something with them.”
+</p>
+<p>A burst of merry laughter greeted this sally.
+</p>
+<p>“If he should learn—”
+</p>
+<p>“He’d come a-running!” concluded Sandoval. “This is excellent soup—what is it called?”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Pansit lang-lang</i>, that is, Chinese <i>pansit</i>, to distinguish it from that which is peculiar to this country.”
+</p>
+<p>“Bah! That’s a hard name to remember. In honor of Don Custodio, I christen it the
+<i>soup project</i>!”
+</p>
+<p>“Gentlemen,” said Makaraig, who had prepared the menu, “there are three courses yet.
+Chinese stew made of pork—”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3879">[<a href="#xd32e3879">248</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Which should be dedicated to Padre Irene.”
+</p>
+<p>“Get out! Padre Irene doesn’t eat pork, unless he turns his nose away,” whispered
+a young man from Iloilo to his neighbor.
+</p>
+<p>“Let him turn his nose away!”
+</p>
+<p>“Down with Padre Irene’s nose,” cried several at once.
+</p>
+<p>“Respect, gentlemen, more respect!” demanded Pecson with comic gravity.
+</p>
+<p>“The third course is a lobster pie—”
+</p>
+<p>“Which should be dedicated to the friars,” suggested he of the Visayas.
+</p>
+<p>“For the lobsters’ sake,” added Sandoval.
+</p>
+<p>“Right, and call it friar pie!”
+</p>
+<p>The whole crowd took this up, repeating in concert, “Friar pie!”
+</p>
+<p>“I protest in the name of one of them,” said Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“And I, in the name of the lobsters,” added Tadeo.
+</p>
+<p>“Respect, gentlemen, more respect!” again demanded Pecson with a full mouth.
+</p>
+<p>“The fourth is stewed <i>pansit</i>, which is dedicated—to the government and the country!”
+</p>
+<p>All turned toward Makaraig, who went on: “Until recently, gentlemen, the <i>pansit</i> was believed to be Chinese or Japanese, but the fact is that, being unknown in China
+or Japan, it would seem to be Filipino, yet those who prepare it and get the benefit
+from it are the Chinese—the same, the very, very same that happens to the government
+and to the Philippines: they seem to be Chinese, but whether they are or not, the
+Holy Mother has her doctors—all eat and enjoy it, yet characterize it as disagreeable
+and loathsome, the same as with the country, the same as with the government. All
+live at its cost, all share in its feast, and afterwards there is no worse country
+than the Philippines, there is no government more imperfect. Let us then dedicate
+the <i>pansit</i> to the country and to the government.”
+</p>
+<p>“Agreed!” many exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>“I protest!” cried Isagani.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3907">[<a href="#xd32e3907">249</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Respect for the weaker, respect for the victims,” called Pecson in a hollow voice,
+waving a chicken-bone in the air.
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s dedicate the <i>pansit</i> to Quiroga the Chinaman, one of the four powers of the Filipino world,” proposed
+Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“No, to his Black Eminence.”
+</p>
+<p>“Silence!” cautioned one mysteriously. “There are people in the plaza watching us,
+and walls have ears.”
+</p>
+<p>True it was that curious groups were standing by the windows, while the talk and laughter
+in the adjoining houses had ceased altogether, as if the people there were giving
+their attention to what was occurring at the banquet. There was something extraordinary
+about the silence.
+</p>
+<p>“Tadeo, deliver your speech,” Makaraig whispered to him.
+</p>
+<p>It had been agreed that Sandoval, who possessed the most oratorical ability, should
+deliver the last toast as a summing up.
+</p>
+<p>Tadeo, lazy as ever, had prepared nothing, so he found himself in a quandary. While
+disposing of a long string of vermicelli, he meditated how to get out of the difficulty,
+until he recalled a speech learned in school and decided to plagiarize it, with adulterations.
+</p>
+<p>“Beloved brethren in project!” he began, gesticulating with two Chinese chop-sticks.
+</p>
+<p>“Brute! Keep that chop-stick out of my hair!” cried his neighbor.
+</p>
+<p>“Called by you to fill the void that has been left in—”
+</p>
+<p>“Plagiarism!” Sandoval interrupted him. “That speech was delivered by the president
+of our lyceum.”
+</p>
+<p>“Called by your election,” continued the imperturbable Tadeo, “to fill the void that
+has been left in my mind”—pointing to his stomach—“by a man famous for his Christian
+principles and for his inspirations and projects, worthy of some little remembrance,
+what can one like myself say of him, I who am very hungry, not having breakfasted?”
+</p>
+<p>“Have a neck, my friend!” called a neighbor, offering that portion of a chicken.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3927">[<a href="#xd32e3927">250</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“There is one course, gentlemen, the treasure of a people who are today a tale and
+a mockery in the world, wherein have thrust their hands the greatest gluttons of the
+western regions of the earth—” Here he pointed with his chopsticks to Sandoval, who
+was struggling with a refractory chicken-wing.
+</p>
+<p>“And eastern!” retorted the latter, describing a circle in the air with his spoon,
+in order to include all the banqueters.
+</p>
+<p>“No interruptions!”
+</p>
+<p>“I demand the floor!”
+</p>
+<p>“I demand pickles!” added Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“Bring on the stew!”
+</p>
+<p>All echoed this request, so Tadeo sat down, contented with having got out of his quandary.
+</p>
+<p>The dish consecrated to Padre Irene did not appear to be extra good, as Sandoval cruelly
+demonstrated thus: “Shining with grease outside and with pork inside! Bring on the
+third course, the friar pie!”
+</p>
+<p>The pie was not yet ready, although the sizzling of the grease in the frying-pan could
+be heard. They took advantage of the delay to drink, begging Pecson to talk.
+</p>
+<p>Pecson crossed himself gravely and arose, restraining his clownish laugh with an effort,
+at the same time mimicking a certain Augustinian preacher, then famous, and beginning
+in a murmur, as though he were reading a text.
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="la">Si tripa plena laudal Deum, tripa famelica laudabit fratres</i>—if the full stomach praises God, the hungry stomach will praise the friars. Words
+spoken by the Lord Custodio through the mouth of Ben-Zayb, in the journal <i lang="es">El Grito de la Integridad</i>, the second article, absurdity the one hundred and fifty-seventh.
+</p>
+<p>“Beloved brethren in Christ: Evil blows its foul breath over the verdant shores of
+Frailandia, commonly called the Philippine Archipelago. No day passes but the attack
+is renewed, but there is heard some sarcasm against the reverend, venerable, infallible
+corporations, defenseless and unsupported. <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3950">[<a href="#xd32e3950">251</a>]</span>Allow me, brethren, on this occasion to constitute myself a knight-errant to sally
+forth in defense of the unprotected, of the holy corporations that have reared us,
+thus again confirming the saving idea of the adage—a full stomach praises God, which
+is to say, a hungry stomach will praise the friars.”
+</p>
+<p>“Bravo, bravo!”
+</p>
+<p>“Listen,” said Isagani seriously, “I want you to understand that, speaking of friars,
+I respect one.”
+</p>
+<p>Sandoval was getting merry, so he began to sing a shady couplet about the friars.
+</p>
+<p>“Hear me, brethren!” continued Pecson. “Turn your gaze toward the happy days of your
+infancy, endeavor to analyze the present and ask yourselves about the future. What
+do you find? Friars, friars, and friars! A friar baptized you, confirmed you, visited
+you in school with loving zeal; a friar heard your first secret; he was the first
+to bring you into communion with God, to set your feet upon the pathway of life; friars
+were your first and friars will be your last teachers; a friar it is who opens the
+hearts of your sweethearts, disposing them to heed your sighs; a friar marries you,
+makes you travel over different islands to afford you changes of climate and diversion;
+he will attend your death-bed, and even though you mount the scaffold, there will
+the friar be to accompany you with his prayers and tears, and you may rest assured
+that he will not desert you until he sees you thoroughly dead. Nor does his charity
+end there—dead, he will then endeavor to bury you with all pomp, he will fight that
+your corpse pass through the church to receive his supplications, and he will only
+rest satisfied when he can deliver you into the hands of the Creator, purified here
+on earth, thanks to temporal punishments, tortures, and humiliations. Learned in the
+doctrines of Christ, who closes heaven against the rich, they, our redeemers and genuine
+ministers of the Saviour, seek every means to lift away our sins and bear them far,
+far off, there where the accursed Chinese and Protestants <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3957">[<a href="#xd32e3957">252</a>]</span>dwell, to leave us this air, limpid, pure, healthful, in such a way that even should
+we so wish afterwards, we could not find a real to bring about our condemnation.
+</p>
+<p>“If, then, their existence is necessary to our happiness, if wheresoever we turn we
+must encounter their delicate hands, hungering for kisses, that every day smooth the
+marks of abuse from our countenances, why not adore them and fatten them—why demand
+their impolitic expulsion? Consider for a moment the immense void that their absence
+would leave in our social system. Tireless workers, they improve and propagate the
+races! Divided as we are, thanks to our jealousies and our susceptibilities, the friars
+unite us in a common lot, in a firm bond, so firm that many are unable to move their
+elbows. Take away the friar, gentlemen, and you will see how the Philippine edifice
+will totter; lacking robust shoulders and hairy limbs to sustain it, Philippine life
+will again become monotonous, without the merry note of the playful and gracious friar,
+without the booklets and sermons that split our sides with laughter, without the amusing
+contrast between grand pretensions and small brains, without the actual, daily representations
+of the tales of Boccaccio and La Fontaine! Without the girdles and scapularies, what
+would you have our women do in the future—save that money and perhaps become miserly
+and covetous? Without the masses, novenaries, and processions, where will you find
+games of <i>panguingui</i> to entertain them in their hours of leisure? They would then have to devote themselves
+to their household duties and instead of reading diverting stories of miracles, we
+should then have to get them works that are not extant.
+</p>
+<p>“Take away the friar and heroism will disappear, the political virtues will fall under
+the control of the vulgar. Take him away and the Indian will cease to exist, for the
+friar is the Father, the Indian is the Word! The former is the sculptor, the latter
+the statue, because all that we are, think, or do, we owe to the friar—to his patience,
+his toil, his perseverance of three centuries to modify the form <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3965">[<a href="#xd32e3965">253</a>]</span>Nature gave us. The Philippines without the friar and without the Indian—what then
+would become of the unfortunate government in the hands of the Chinamen?”
+</p>
+<p>“It will eat lobster pie,” suggested Isagani, whom Pecson’s speech bored.
+</p>
+<p>“And that’s what we ought to be doing. Enough of speeches!”
+</p>
+<p>As the Chinese who should have served the courses did not put in his appearance, one
+of the students arose and went to the rear, toward the balcony that overlooked the
+river. But he returned at once, making mysterious signs.
+</p>
+<p>“We’re watched! I’ve seen Padre Sibyla’s pet!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes?” ejaculated Isagani, rising.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s no use now. When he saw me he disappeared.”
+</p>
+<p>Approaching the window he looked toward the plaza, then made signs to his companions
+to come nearer. They saw a young man leave the door of the <i>pansitería</i>, gaze all about him, then with some unknown person enter a carriage that waited at
+the curb. It was Simoun’s carriage.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Makaraig. “The slave of the Vice-Rector attended by the Master of
+the General!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3980">[<a href="#xd32e3980">254</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3820">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3820src">1</a></span> These establishments are still a notable feature of native life in Manila. Whether
+the author adopted a title already common or popularized one of his own invention,
+the fact is that they are now invariably known by the name used here. The use of <i>macanista</i> was due to the presence in Manila of a large number of Chinese from Macao.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3820src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3837">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3837src">2</a></span> Originally, Plaza San Gabriel, from the Dominican mission for the Chinese established
+there; later, as it became a commercial center, Plaza Vivac; and now known as Plaza
+Cervantes, being the financial center of Manila.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3837src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e3847" lang="en">
+<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e3847src">3</a></span> “The manager of this restaurant warns the public to leave absolutely nothing on any
+table or chair.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e3847src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch26" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e465">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Pasquinades</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Very early the next morning Basilio arose to go to the hospital. He had his plans
+made: to visit his patients, to go afterwards to the University to see about his licentiateship,
+and then have an interview with Makaraig about the expense this would entail, for
+he had used up the greater part of his savings in ransoming Juli and in securing a
+house where she and her grandfather might live, and he had not dared to apply to Capitan
+Tiago, fearing that such a move would be construed as an advance on the legacy so
+often promised him.
+</p>
+<p>Preoccupied with these thoughts, he paid no attention to the groups of students who
+were at such an early hour returning from the Walled City, as though the classrooms
+had been closed, nor did he even note the abstracted air of some of them, their whispered
+conversations, or the mysterious signals exchanged among them. So it was that when
+he reached San Juan de Dios and his friends asked him about the conspiracy, he gave
+a start, remembering what Simoun had planned, but which had miscarried, owing to the
+unexplained accident to the jeweler. Terrified, he asked in a trembling voice, at
+the same time endeavoring to feign ignorance, “Ah, yes, what conspiracy?”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s been discovered,” replied one, “and it seems that many are implicated in it.”
+</p>
+<p>With an effort Basilio controlled himself. “Many implicated?” he echoed, trying to
+learn something from the looks of the others. “Who?”
+</p>
+<p>“Students, a lot of students.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio did not think it prudent to ask more, fearing <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e3992">[<a href="#xd32e3992">255</a>]</span>that he would give himself away, so on the pretext of visiting his patients he left
+the group. One of the clinical professors met him and placing his hand mysteriously
+on the youth’s shoulder—the professor was a friend of his—asked him in a low voice,
+“Were you at that supper last night?”
+</p>
+<p>In his excited frame of mind Basilio thought the professor had said <i>night before last</i>, which was the time of his interview with Simoun. He tried to explain. “I assure
+you,” he stammered, “that as Capitan Tiago was worse—and besides I had to finish that
+book—”
+</p>
+<p>“You did well not to attend it,” said the professor. “But you’re a member of the students’
+association?”
+</p>
+<p>“I pay my dues.”
+</p>
+<p>“Well then, a piece of advice: go home at once and destroy any papers you have that
+may compromise you.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio shrugged his shoulders—he had no papers, nothing more than his clinical notes.
+</p>
+<p>“Has Señor Simoun—”
+</p>
+<p>“Simoun has nothing to do with the affair, thank God!” interrupted the physician.
+“He was opportunely wounded by some unknown hand and is now confined to his bed. No,
+other hands are concerned in this, but hands no less terrible.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio drew a breath of relief. Simoun was the only one who could compromise him,
+although he thought of Cabesang Tales.
+</p>
+<p>“Are there tulisanes—”
+</p>
+<p>“No, man, nothing more than students.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio recovered his serenity. “What has happened then?” he made bold to ask.
+</p>
+<p>“Seditious pasquinades have been found; didn’t you know about them?”
+</p>
+<p>“Where?”
+</p>
+<p>“In the University.”
+</p>
+<p>“Nothing more than that?”
+</p>
+<p>“Whew! What more do you want?” asked the professor, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4016">[<a href="#xd32e4016">256</a>]</span>almost in a rage. “The pasquinades are attributed to the students of the association—but,
+keep quiet!”
+</p>
+<p>The professor of pathology came along, a man who had more the look of a sacristan
+than of a physician. Appointed by the powerful mandate of the Vice-Rector, without
+other merit than unconditional servility to the corporation, he passed for a spy and
+an informer in the eyes of the rest of the faculty.
+</p>
+<p>The first professor returned his greeting coldly, and winked to Basilio, as he said
+to him, “Now I know that Capitan Tiago smells like a corpse—the crows and vultures
+have been gathering around him.” So saying, he went inside.
+</p>
+<p>Somewhat calmed, Basilio now ventured to inquire for more details, but all that he
+could learn was that pasquinades had been found on the doors of the University, and
+that the Vice-Rector had ordered them to be taken down and sent to the Civil Government.
+It was said that they were filled with threats of assassination, invasion, and other
+braggadocio.
+</p>
+<p>The students made their comments on the affair. Their information came from the janitor,
+who had it from a servant in Santo Tomas, who had it from an usher. They prognosticated
+future suspensions and imprisonments, even indicating who were to be the victims—naturally
+the members of the association.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio then recalled Simoun’s words: “The day in which they can get rid of you, you
+will not complete your course.”
+</p>
+<p>“Could he have known anything?” he asked himself. “We’ll see who is the most powerful.”
+</p>
+<p>Recovering his serenity, he went on toward the University, to learn what attitude
+it behooved him to take and at the same time to see about his licentiateship. He passed
+along Calle Legazpi, then down through Beaterio, and upon arriving at the corner of
+this street and Calle Solana saw that something important must indeed have happened.
+Instead of the former lively, chattering groups on the sidewalks <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4026">[<a href="#xd32e4026">257</a>]</span>were to be seen civil-guards making the students move on, and these latter issuing
+from the University silent, some gloomy, some agitated, to stand off at a distance
+or make their way home.
+</p>
+<p>The first acquaintance he met was Sandoval, but Basilio called to him in vain. He
+seemed to have been smitten deaf. “Effect of fear on the gastro-intestinal juices,”
+thought Basilio.
+</p>
+<p>Later he met Tadeo, who wore a Christmas face—at last that eternal holiday seemed
+to be realized.
+</p>
+<p>“What has happened, Tadeo?”
+</p>
+<p>“We’ll have no school, at least for a week, old man! Sublime! Magnificent!” He rubbed
+his hands in glee.
+</p>
+<p>“But what has happened?”
+</p>
+<p>“They’re going to arrest all of us in the association.”
+</p>
+<p>“And are you glad of that?”
+</p>
+<p>“There’ll be no school, there’ll be no school!” He moved away almost bursting with
+joy.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio saw Juanito Pelaez approaching, pale and suspicious. This time his hump had
+reached its maximum, so great was his haste to get away. He had been one of the most
+active promoters of the association while things were running smoothly.
+</p>
+<p>“Eh, Pelaez, what’s happened?”
+</p>
+<p>“Nothing, I know nothing. I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he responded nervously.
+“I was always telling you that these things were quixotisms. It’s the truth, you know
+I’ve said so to you?”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio did not remember whether he had said so or not, but to humor him replied,
+“Yes, man, but what’s happened?”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s the truth, isn’t it? Look, you’re a witness: I’ve always been opposed—you’re
+a witness, don’t forget it!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, man, but what’s going on?”
+</p>
+<p>“Listen, you’re a witness! I’ve never had anything to do with the members of the association,
+except to give them <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4046">[<a href="#xd32e4046">258</a>]</span>advice. You’re not going to deny it now. Be careful, won’t you?”
+</p>
+<p>“No, no, I won’t deny it, but for goodness’ sake, what has happened?”
+</p>
+<p>But Juanito was already far away. He had caught a glimpse of a guard approaching and
+feared arrest.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio then went on toward the University to see if perhaps the secretary’s office
+might be open and if he could glean any further news. The office was closed, but there
+was an extraordinary commotion in the building. Hurrying up and down the stairways
+were friars, army officers, private persons, old lawyers and doctors, there doubtless
+to offer their services to the endangered cause.
+</p>
+<p>At a distance he saw his friend Isagani, pale and agitated, but radiant with youthful
+ardor, haranguing some fellow students with his voice raised as though he cared little
+that he be heard by everybody.
+</p>
+<p>“It seems preposterous, gentlemen, it seems unreal, that an incident so insignificant
+should scatter us and send us into flight like sparrows at whom a scarecrow has been
+shaken! But is this the first time that students have gone to prison for the sake
+of liberty? Where are those who have died, those who have been shot? Would you apostatize
+now?”
+</p>
+<p>“But who can the fool be that wrote such pasquinades?” demanded an indignant listener.
+</p>
+<p>“What does that matter to us?” rejoined Isagani. “We don’t have to find out, let them
+find out! Before we know how they are drawn up, we have no need to make any show of
+agreement at a time like this. There where the danger is, there must we hasten, because
+honor is there! If what the pasquinades say is compatible with our dignity and our
+feelings, be he who he may that wrote them, he has done well, and we ought to be grateful
+to him and hasten to add our signatures to his! If they are unworthy of us, our conduct
+and our consciences will in themselves protest and defend us from every accusation!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4056">[<a href="#xd32e4056">259</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Upon hearing such talk, Basilio, although he liked Isagani very much, turned and left.
+He had to go to Makaraig’s house to see about the loan.
+</p>
+<p>Near the house of the wealthy student he observed whisperings and mysterious signals
+among the neighbors, but not comprehending what they meant, continued serenely on
+his way and entered the doorway. Two guards advanced and asked him what he wanted.
+Basilio realized that he had made a bad move, but he could not now retreat.
+</p>
+<p>“I’ve come to see my friend Makaraig,” he replied calmly.
+</p>
+<p>The guards looked at each other. “Wait here,” one of them said to him. “Wait till
+the corporal comes down.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio bit his lips and Simoun’s words again recurred to him. Had they come to arrest
+Makaraig?—was his thought, but he dared not give it utterance. He did not have to
+wait long, for in a few moments Makaraig came down, talking pleasantly with the corporal.
+The two were preceded by a warrant officer.
+</p>
+<p>“What, you too, Basilio?” he asked.
+</p>
+<p>“I came to see you—”
+</p>
+<p>“Noble conduct!” exclaimed Makaraig laughing. “In time of calm, you avoid us.”
+</p>
+<p>The corporal asked Basilio his name, then scanned a list. “Medical student, Calle
+Anloague?” he asked.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio bit his lip.
+</p>
+<p>“You’ve saved us a trip,” added the corporal, placing his hand on the youth’s shoulder.
+“You’re under arrest!”
+</p>
+<p>“What, I also?”
+</p>
+<p>Makaraig burst out into laughter.
+</p>
+<p>“Don’t worry, friend. Let’s get into the carriage, while I tell you about the supper
+last night.”
+</p>
+<p>With a graceful gesture, as though he were in his own house, he invited the warrant
+officer and the corporal to enter the carriage that waited at the door.
+</p>
+<p>“To the Civil Government!” he ordered the cochero.
+</p>
+<p>Now that Basilio had again regained his composure, he <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4077">[<a href="#xd32e4077">260</a>]</span>told Makaraig the object of his visit. The rich student did not wait for him to finish,
+but seized his hand. “Count on me, count on me, and to the festivities celebrating
+our graduation we’ll invite these gentlemen,” he said, indicating the corporal and
+the warrant officer.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4079">[<a href="#xd32e4079">261</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch27" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e475">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Friar and the Filipino</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="la">Vox populi, vox Dei</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>We left Isagani haranguing his friends. In the midst of his enthusiasm an usher approached
+him to say that Padre Fernandez, one of the higher professors, wished to talk with
+him.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani’s face fell. Padre Fernandez was a person greatly respected by him, being
+the <i>one</i> always excepted by him whenever the friars were attacked.
+</p>
+<p>“What does Padre Fernandez want?” he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>The usher shrugged his shoulders and Isagani reluctantly followed him.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandez, the friar whom we met in Los Baños, was waiting in his cell, grave
+and sad, with his brows knitted as if he were in deep thought. He arose as Isagani
+entered, shook hands with him, and closed the door. Then he began to pace from one
+end of the room to the other. Isagani stood waiting for him to speak.
+</p>
+<p>“Señor Isagani,” he began at length with some emotion, “from the window I’ve heard
+you speaking, for though I am a consumptive I have good ears, and I want to talk with
+you. I have always liked the young men who express themselves clearly and have their
+own way of thinking and acting, no matter that their ideas may differ from mine. You
+young men, from what I have heard, had a supper last night. Don’t excuse yourself—”
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t intend to excuse myself!” interrupted Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“So much the better—it shows that you accept the consequences of your actions. Besides,
+you would do ill in <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4100">[<a href="#xd32e4100">262</a>]</span>retracting, and I don’t blame you, I take no notice of what may have been said there
+last night, I don’t accuse you, because after all you’re free to say of the Dominicans
+what seems best to you, you are not a pupil of ours—only this year have we had the
+pleasure of having you, and we shall probably not have you longer. Don’t think that
+I’m going to invoke considerations of gratitude; no, I’m not going to waste my time
+in stupid vulgarisms. I’ve had you summoned here because I believe that you are one
+of the few students who act from conviction, and, as I like men of conviction, I’m
+going to explain myself to Señor Isagani.”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandez paused, then continued his walk with bowed head, his gaze riveted
+on the floor.
+</p>
+<p>“You may sit down, if you wish,” he remarked. “It’s a habit of mine to walk about
+while talking, because my ideas come better then.”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani remained standing, with his head erect, waiting for the professor to get to
+the point of the matter.
+</p>
+<p>“For more than eight years I have been a professor here,” resumed Padre Fernandez,
+still continuing to pace back and forth, “and in that time I’ve known and dealt with
+more than twenty-five hundred students. I’ve taught them, I’ve tried to educate them,
+I’ve tried to inculcate in them principles of justice and of dignity, and yet in these
+days when there is so much murmuring against us I’ve not seen one who has the temerity
+to maintain his accusations when he finds himself in the presence of a friar, not
+even aloud in the presence of any numbers. Young men there are who behind our backs
+calumniate us and before us kiss our hands, with a base smile begging kind looks from
+us! Bah! What do you wish that we should do with such creatures?”
+</p>
+<p>“The fault is not all theirs, Padre,” replied Isagani. “The fault lies partly with
+those who have taught them to be hypocrites, with those who have tyrannized over freedom
+of thought and freedom of speech. Here every independent <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4109">[<a href="#xd32e4109">263</a>]</span>thought, every word that is not an echo of the will of those in power, is characterized
+as filibusterism, and you know well enough what that means. A fool would he be who
+to please himself would say aloud what he thinks, who would lay himself liable to
+suffer persecution!”
+</p>
+<p>“What persecution have you had to suffer?” asked Padre Fernandez, raising his head.
+“Haven’t I let you express yourself freely in my class? Nevertheless, you are an exception
+that, if what you say is true, I must correct, so as to make the rule as general as
+possible and thus avoid setting a bad example.”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani smiled. “I thank you, but I will not discuss with you whether I am an exception.
+I will accept your qualification so that you may accept mine: you also are an exception,
+and as here we are not going to talk about exceptions, nor plead for ourselves, at
+least, I mean, <i>I’m not</i>, I beg of my <i>professor</i> to change the course of the conversation.”
+</p>
+<p>In spite of his liberal principles, Padre Fernandez raised his head and stared in
+surprise at Isagani. That young man was more independent than he had thought—although
+he called him <i>professor</i>, in reality he was dealing with him as an equal, since he allowed himself to offer
+suggestions. Like a wise diplomat, Padre Fernandez not only recognized the fact but
+even took his stand upon it.
+</p>
+<p>“Good enough!” he said. “But don’t look upon me as your professor. I’m a friar and
+you are a Filipino student, nothing more nor less! Now I ask you—what do the Filipino
+students want of us?”
+</p>
+<p>The question came as a surprise; Isagani was not prepared for it. It was a thrust
+made suddenly while they were preparing their defense, as they say in fencing. Thus
+startled, Isagani responded with a violent stand, like a beginner defending himself.
+</p>
+<p>“That you do your duty!” he exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>Fray Fernandez straightened up—that reply sounded to him like a cannon-shot. “That
+we do our duty!” he <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4128">[<a href="#xd32e4128">264</a>]</span>repeated, holding himself erect. “Don’t we, then, do our duty? What duties do you
+ascribe to us?”
+</p>
+<p>“Those which you voluntarily placed upon yourselves on joining the order, and those
+which afterwards, once in it, you have been willing to assume. But, as a Filipino
+student, I don’t think myself called upon to examine your conduct with reference to
+your statutes, to Catholicism, to the government, to the Filipino people, and to humanity
+in general—those are questions that you have to settle with your founders, with the
+Pope, with the government, with the whole people, and with God. As a Filipino student,
+I will confine myself to your duties toward us. The friars in general, being the local
+supervisors of education in the provinces, and the Dominicans in particular, by monopolizing
+in their hands all the studies of the Filipino youth, have assumed the obligation
+to its eight millions of inhabitants, to Spain, and to humanity, of which we form
+a part, of steadily bettering the young plant, morally and physically, of training
+it toward its happiness, of creating a people honest, prosperous, intelligent, virtuous,
+noble, and loyal. Now I ask you in my turn—have the friars fulfilled that obligation
+of theirs?”
+</p>
+<p>“We’re fulfilling—”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, Padre Fernandez,” interrupted Isagani, “you with your hand on <i>your</i> heart can say that you are fulfilling it, but with your hand on the heart of your
+order, on the heart of all the orders, you cannot say that without deceiving yourself.
+Ah, Padre Fernandez, when I find myself in the presence of a person whom I esteem
+and respect, I prefer to be the accused rather than the accuser, I prefer to defend
+myself rather than take the offensive. But now that we have entered upon the discussion,
+let us carry it to the end! How do they fulfill their obligation, those who look after
+education in the towns? By hindering it! And those who here monopolize education,
+those who try to mold the mind of youth, to the exclusion of all others whomsoever,
+how do they carry out their mission? By <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4136">[<a href="#xd32e4136">265</a>]</span>curtailing knowledge as much as possible, by extinguishing all ardor and enthusiasm,
+by trampling on all dignity, the soul’s only refuge, by inculcating in us worn-out
+ideas, rancid beliefs, false principles incompatible with a life of progress! Ah,
+yes, when it is a question of feeding convicts, of providing for the maintenance of
+criminals, the government calls for bids in order to find the purveyor who offers
+the best means of subsistence, he who at least will not let them perish from hunger,
+but when it is a question of morally feeding a whole people, of nourishing the intellect
+of youth, the healthiest part, that which is later to be the country and the all,
+the government not only does not ask for any bid, but restricts the power to that
+very body which makes a boast of not desiring education, of wishing no advancement.
+What should we say if the purveyor for the prisons, after securing the contract by
+intrigue, should then leave the prisoners to languish in want, giving them only what
+is stale and rancid, excusing himself afterwards by saying that it is not convenient
+for the prisoners to enjoy good health, because good health brings merry thoughts,
+because merriment improves the man, and the man ought not to be improved, because
+it is to the purveyor’s interest that there be many criminals? What should we say
+if afterwards the government and the purveyor should agree between themselves that
+of the ten or twelve cuartos which one received for each criminal, the other should
+receive five?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandek bit his lip. “Those are grave charges,” he said, “and you are overstepping
+the limits of our agreement.”
+</p>
+<p>“No, Padre, not if I continue to deal with the student question. The friars—and I
+do not say, you friars, since I do not confuse you with the common herd—the friars
+of all the orders have constituted themselves our mental purveyors, yet they say and
+shamelessly proclaim that it is not expedient for us to become enlightened, because
+some day we shall declare ourselves free! That is just the same <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4141">[<a href="#xd32e4141">266</a>]</span>as not wishing the prisoner to be well-fed so that he may improve and get out of prison.
+Liberty is to man what education is to the intelligence, and the friars’ unwillingness
+that we have it is the origin of our discontent.”
+</p>
+<p>“Instruction is given only to those who deserve it,” rejoined Padre Fernandez dryly.
+“To give it to men without character and without morality is to prostitute it.”
+</p>
+<p>“Why are there men without character and without morality?”
+</p>
+<p>The Dominican shrugged his shoulders. “Defects that they imbibe with their mothers’
+milk, that they breathe in the bosom of the family—how do I know?”
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, no, Padre Fernandez!” exclaimed the young man impetuously. “You have not dared
+to go into the subject deeply, you have not wished to gaze into the depths from fear
+of finding yourself there in the darkness of your brethren. What we are, you have
+made us. A people tyrannized over is forced to be hypocritical; a people denied the
+truth must resort to lies; and he who makes himself a tyrant breeds slaves. There
+is no morality, you say, so let it be—even though statistics can refute you in that
+here are not committed crimes like those among other peoples, blinded by the fumes
+of their moralizers. But, without attempting now to analyze what it is that forms
+the character and how far the education received determines morality, I will agree
+with you that we are defective. Who is to blame for that? You who for three centuries
+and a half have had in your hands our education, or we who submit to everything? If
+after three centuries and a half the artist has been able to produce only a caricature,
+stupid indeed he must be!”
+</p>
+<p>“Or bad enough the material he works upon.”
+</p>
+<p>“Stupider still then, when, knowing it to be bad, he does not give it up, but goes
+on wasting time. Not only is he stupid, but he is a cheat and a robber, because he
+knows that his work is useless, yet continues to draw his salary. Not only is he stupid
+and a thief, he is a villain in that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4151">[<a href="#xd32e4151">267</a>]</span>he prevents any other workman from trying his skill to see if he might not produce
+something worth while! The deadly jealousy of the incompetent!”
+</p>
+<p>The reply was sharp and Padre Fernandez felt himself caught. To his gaze Isagani appeared
+gigantic, invincible, convincing, and for the first time in his life he felt beaten
+by a Filipino student. He repented of having provoked the argument, but it was too
+late to turn back. In this quandary, finding himself confronted with such a formidable
+adversary, he sought a strong shield and laid hold of the government.
+</p>
+<p>“You impute all the faults to us, because you see only us, who are near,” he said
+in a less haughty tone. “It’s natural and doesn’t surprise me. A person hates the
+soldier or policeman who arrests him and not the judge who sends him to prison. You
+and we are both dancing to the same measure of music—if at the same note you lift
+your foot in unison with us, don’t blame us for it, it’s the music that is directing
+our movements. Do you think that we friars have no consciences and that we do not
+desire what is right? Do you believe that we do not think about you, that we do not
+heed our duty, that we only eat to live, and live to rule? Would that it were so!
+But we, like you, follow the cadence, finding ourselves between Scylla and Charybdis:
+either you reject us or the government rejects us. The government commands, and he
+who commands, commands,—and must be obeyed!”
+</p>
+<p>“From which it may be inferred,” remarked Isagani with a bitter smile, “that the government
+wishes our demoralization.”
+</p>
+<p>“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that! What I meant to say is that there are beliefs, there
+are theories, there are laws, which, dictated with the best intention, produce the
+most deplorable consequences. I’ll explain myself better by citing an example. To
+stamp out a small evil, there are dictated many laws that cause greater evils still:
+‘<i lang="la">corruptissima in republica plurimae leges,</i>’ said Tacitus. To prevent <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4161">[<a href="#xd32e4161">268</a>]</span>one case of fraud, there are provided a million and a half preventive or humiliating
+regulations, which produce the immediate effect of awakening in the public the desire
+to elude and mock such regulations. To make a people criminal, there’s nothing more
+needed than to doubt its virtue. Enact a law, not only here, but even in Spain, and
+you will see how the means of evading it will be sought, and this is for the very
+reason that the legislators have overlooked the fact that the more an object is hidden,
+the more a sight of it is desired. Why are rascality and astuteness regarded as great
+qualities in the Spanish people, when there is no other so noble, so proud, so chivalrous
+as it? Because our legislators, with the best intentions, have doubted its nobility,
+wounded its pride, challenged its chivalry! Do you wish to open in Spain a road among
+the rocks? Then place there an imperative notice forbidding the passage, and the people,
+in order to protest against the order, will leave the highway to clamber over the
+rocks. The day on which some legislator in Spain forbids virtue and commands vice,
+then all will become virtuous!”
+</p>
+<p>The Dominican paused for a brief space, then resumed: “But you may say that we are
+getting away from the subject, so I’ll return to it. What I can say to you, to convince
+you, is that the vices from which you suffer ought to be ascribed by you neither to
+us nor to the government. They are due to the imperfect organization of our social
+system: <i>qui multum probat, nihil probat</i>, one loses himself through excessive caution, lacking what is necessary and having
+too much of what is superfluous.”
+</p>
+<p>“If you admit those defects in your social system,” replied Isagani, “why then do
+you undertake to regulate alien societies, instead of first devoting your attention
+to yourselves?”
+</p>
+<p>“We’re getting away from the subject, young man. The theory in accomplished facts
+must be accepted.”
+</p>
+<p>“So let it be! I accept it because it is an accomplished <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4171">[<a href="#xd32e4171">269</a>]</span>fact, but I will further ask: why, if your social organization is defective, do you
+not change it or at least give heed to the cry of those who are injured by it?”
+</p>
+<p>“We’re still far away. Let’s talk about what the students want from the friars.”
+</p>
+<p>“From the moment when the friars hide themselves behind the government, the students
+have to turn to it.”
+</p>
+<p>This statement was true and there appeared no means of ignoring it.
+</p>
+<p>“I’m not the government and I can’t answer for its acts. What do the students wish
+us to do for them within the limits by which we are confined?”
+</p>
+<p>“Not to oppose the emancipation of education but to favor it.”
+</p>
+<p>The Dominican shook his head. “Without stating my own opinion, that is asking us to
+commit suicide,” he said.
+</p>
+<p>“On the contrary, it is asking you for room to pass in order not to trample upon and
+crush you.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem!” coughed Padre Fernandez, stopping and remaining thoughtful. “Begin by asking
+something that does not cost so much, something that any one of us can grant without
+abatement of dignity or privilege, for if we can reach an understanding and dwell
+in peace, why this hatred, why this distrust?”
+</p>
+<p>“Then let’s get down to details.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, because if we disturb the foundation, we’ll bring down the whole edifice.”
+</p>
+<p>“Then let’s get down to details, let’s leave the region of abstract principles,” rejoined
+Isagani with a smile, “and <i>also without stating my own opinion,</i>”—the youth accented these words—“the students would desist from their attitude and
+soften certain asperities if the professors would try to treat them better than they
+have up to the present. That is in their hands.”
+</p>
+<p>“What?” demanded the Dominican. “Have the students any complaint to make about my
+conduct?”
+</p>
+<p>“Padre, we agreed from the start not to talk of yourself <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4191">[<a href="#xd32e4191">270</a>]</span>or of myself, we’re speaking generally. The students, besides getting no great benefit
+out of the years spent in the classes, often leave there remnants of their dignity,
+if not the whole of it.”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandez again bit his lip. “No one forces them to study—the fields are uncultivated,”
+he observed dryly.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, there is something that impels them to study,” replied Isagani in the same tone,
+looking the Dominican full in the face. “Besides the duty of every one to seek his
+own perfection, there is the desire innate in man to cultivate his intellect, a desire
+the more powerful here in that it is repressed. He who gives his gold and his life
+to the State has the right to require of it opporttmity better to get that gold and
+better to care for his life. Yes, Padre, there is something that impels them, and
+that something is the government itself. It is you yourselves who pitilessly ridicule
+the uncultured Indian and deny him his rights, on the ground that he is ignorant.
+You strip him and then scoff at his nakedness.”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandez did not reply, but continued to pace about feverishly, as though very
+much agitated.
+</p>
+<p>“You say that the fields are not cultivated,” resumed Isagani in a changed tone, after
+a brief pause. “Let’s not enter upon an analysis of the reason for this, because we
+should get far away. But you, Padre Fernandez, you, a teacher, you, a learned man,
+do you wish a people of peons and laborers? In your opinion, is the laborer the perfect
+state at which man may arrive in his development? Or is it that you wish knowledge
+for yourself and labor for the rest?”
+</p>
+<p>“No, I want knowledge for him who deserves it, for him who knows how to use it,” was
+the reply. “When the students demonstrate that they love it, when young men of conviction
+appear, young men who know how to maintain their dignity and make it respected, then
+there will be knowledge, then there will be considerate professors! If <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4200">[<a href="#xd32e4200">271</a>]</span>there are now professors who resort to abuse, it is because there are pupils who submit
+to it.”
+</p>
+<p>“When there are professors, there will be students!”
+</p>
+<p>“Begin by reforming yourselves, you who have need of change, and we will follow.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” said Isagani with a bitter laugh, “let us begin it, because the difficulty
+is on our side. Well you know what is expected of a pupil who stands before a professor—you
+yourself, with all your love of justice, with all your kind sentiments, have been
+restraining yourself by a great effort while I have been telling you bitter truths,
+you yourself, Padre Fernandez! What good has been secured by him among us who has
+tried to inculcate other ideas? What evils have not fallen upon you because you have
+tried to be just and perform your duty?”
+</p>
+<p>“Señor Isagani,” said the Dominican, extending his hand, “although it may seem that
+nothing practical has resulted from this conversation, yet something has been gained.
+I’ll talk to my brethren about what you have told me and I hope that something can
+be done. Only I fear that they won’t believe in your existence.”
+</p>
+<p>“I fear the same,” returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican’s hand. “I fear that my
+friends will not believe in your existence, as you have revealed yourself to me today.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4208src" href="#xd32e4208">1</a>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4221">[<a href="#xd32e4221">272</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Fernandez opened the door and followed him with his gaze until he disappeared
+around a corner in the corridor. For some time he listened to the retreating footsteps,
+then went back into his cell and waited for the youth to appear in the street.
+</p>
+<p>He saw him and actually heard him say to a friend who asked where he was going: “To
+the Civil Government! I’m going to see the pasquinades and join the others!”
+</p>
+<p>His startled friend stared at him as one would look at a person who is about to commit
+suicide, then moved away from him hurriedly.
+</p>
+<p>“Poor boy!” murmured Padre Fernandez, feeling his eyes moisten. “I grudge you to the
+Jesuits who educated you.”
+</p>
+<p>But Padre Fernandez was completely mistaken; the Jesuits repudiated Isagani<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4230src" href="#xd32e4230">2</a> when that afternoon they learned that he had been arrested, saying that he would
+compromise them. “That young man has thrown himself away, he’s going to do us harm!
+Let it be understood that he didn’t get those ideas here.”
+</p>
+<p>Nor were the Jesuits wrong. No! Those ideas come only from God through the medium
+of Nature.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4235">[<a href="#xd32e4235">273</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4208">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4208src">1</a></span> “We do not believe in the verisimilitude of this dialogue, fabricated by the author
+in order to refute the arguments of the friars, whose pride was so great that it would
+not permit any Isagani to tell them these truths face to face. The <i>invention</i> of Padre Fernandez as a Dominican professor is a stroke of generosity on Rizal’s
+part, in conceding that there could have existed <i>any</i> friar capable of talking frankly with an <i>Indian</i>.”—<i>W.&nbsp;E. Retana, in note to this chapter in the edition published by him at Barcelona
+in 1908</i>. Retana ought to know of what he is writing, for he was in the employ of the friars
+for several years and later in Spain wrote extensively for the journal supported by
+them to defend their position in the Philippines. He has also been charged with having
+strongly urged Rizal’s execution in 1896. Since 1898, however, he has doubled about,
+or, perhaps more aptly, performed a journalistic somersault—having written a diffuse
+biography and other works dealing with Rizal. He is strong in unassorted <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4218">[<a href="#xd32e4218">272</a>]</span>facts, but his comments, when not inane and wearisome, approach a maudlin wail over
+“spilt milk,” so the above is given at its face value only.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4208src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4230">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4230src">2</a></span> Quite suggestive of, and perhaps inspired by, the author’s own experience.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4230src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch28" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e485">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXVIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Tatakut</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">With prophetic inspiration Ben-Zayb had been for some days past maintaining in his
+newspaper that education was disastrous, very disastrous for the Philippine Islands,
+and now in view of the events of that Friday of pasquinades, the writer crowed and
+chanted his triumph, leaving belittled and overwhelmed his adversary <i>Horatius</i>, who in the <i>Pirotecnia</i> had dared to ridicule him in the following manner:
+</p>
+<p></p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">From our contemporary, <i>El Grito</i>:
+</p>
+<p>“Education is disastrous, very disastrous, for the Philippine Islands.”
+</p>
+<p>Admitted.
+</p>
+<p>For some time <i>El Grito</i> has pretended to represent the Filipino people—<i>ergo</i>, as Fray Ibañez would say, if he knew Latin.
+</p>
+<p>But Fray Ibañez turns Mussulman when he writes, and we know how the Mussulmans dealt
+with education. <i>In witness whereof</i>, as a royal preacher said, the Alexandrian library!</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>Now he was right, he, Ben-Zayb! He was the only one in the islands who thought, the
+only one who foresaw events!
+</p>
+<p>Truly, the news that seditious pasquinades had been found on the doors of the University
+not only took away the appetite from many and disturbed the digestion of others, but
+it even rendered the phlegmatic Chinese uneasy, so that they no longer dared to sit
+in their shops with one leg drawn up as usual, from fear of losing time in extending
+it in order to put themselves into flight. At eight o’clock in the morning, although
+the sun continued on its course and his Excellency, the Captain-General, did not appear
+at the head of his victorious cohorts, still the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4268">[<a href="#xd32e4268">274</a>]</span>excitement had increased. The friars who were accustomed to frequent Quiroga’s bazaar
+did not put in their appearance, and this symptom presaged terrific cataclysms. If
+the sun had risen a square and the saints appeared only in pantaloons, Quiroga would
+not have been so greatly alarmed, for he would have taken the sun for a gaming-table
+and the sacred images for gamblers who had lost their camisas, but for the friars
+not to come, precisely when some novelties had just arrived for them!
+</p>
+<p>By means of a provincial friend of his, Quiroga forbade entrance into his gaming-houses
+to every Indian who was not an old acquaintance, as the future Chinese consul feared
+that they might get possession of the sums that the wretches lost there. After arranging
+his bazaar in such a way that he could close it quickly in case of need, he had a
+policeman accompany him for the short distance that separated his house from Simoun’s.
+Quiroga thought this occasion the most propitious for making use of the rifles and
+cartridges that he had in his warehouse, in the way the jeweler had pointed out; so
+that on the following days there would be searches made, and then—how many prisoners,
+how many terrified people would give up their savings! It was the game of the old
+carbineers, in slipping contraband cigars and tobacco-leaves under a house, in order
+to pretend a search and force the unfortunate owner to bribery or fines, only now
+the art had been perfected and, the tobacco monopoly abolished, resort was had to
+the prohibited arms.
+</p>
+<p>But Simoun refused to see any one and sent word to the Chinese that he should leave
+things as they were, whereupon he went to see Don Custodio to inquire whether he should
+fortify his bazaar, but neither would Don Custodio receive him, being at the time
+engaged in the study of a project for defense in case of a siege. He thought of Ben-Zayb
+as a source of information, but finding the writer armed to the teeth and using two
+loaded revolvers for paper-weights, took his leave in the shortest possible <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4273">[<a href="#xd32e4273">275</a>]</span>time, to shut himself up in his house and take to his bed under pretense of illness.
+</p>
+<p>At four in the afternoon the talk was no longer of simple pasquinades. There were
+whispered rumors of an understanding between the students and the outlaws of San Mateo,
+it was certain that in the <i>pansitería</i> they had conspired to surprise the city, there was talk of German ships outside the
+bay to support the movement, of a band of young men who under the pretext of protesting
+and demonstrating their Hispanism had gone to the Palace to place themselves at the
+General’s orders but had been arrested because it was discovered that they were armed.
+Providence had saved his Excellency, preventing him from receiving those precocious
+criminals, as he was at the time in conference with the Provincials, the Vice-Rector,
+and with Padre Irene, Padre Salvi’s representative. There was considerable truth in
+these rumors, if we have to believe Padre Irene, who in the afternoon went to visit
+Capitan Tiago. According to him, certain persons had advised his Excellency to improve
+the opportunity in order to inspire terror and administer a lasting lesson to the
+filibusters.
+</p>
+<p>“A number shot,” one had advised, “some two dozen reformers deported at once, in the
+silence of the night, would extinguish forever the flames of discontent.”
+</p>
+<p>“No,” rejoined another, who had a kind heart, “sufficient that the soldiers parade
+through the streets, a troop of cavalry, for example, with drawn sabers—sufficient
+to drag along some cannon, that’s enough! The people are timid and will all retire
+into their houses.”
+</p>
+<p>“No, no,” insinuated another. “This is the opportunity to get rid of the enemy. It’s
+not sufficient that they retire into their houses, they should be made to come out,
+like evil humors by means of plasters. If they are inclined to start riots, they should
+be stirred up by secret agitators. I am of the opinion that the troops should be resting
+on their arms and appearing careless and indifferent, so the people may be emboldened,
+and then in case of any disturbance—out on them, action!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4284">[<a href="#xd32e4284">276</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“The end justifies the means,” remarked another. “Our end is our holy religion and
+the integrity of the fatherland. Proclaim a state of siege, and in case of the least
+disturbance, arrest all the rich and educated, and—clean up the country!”
+</p>
+<p>“If I hadn’t got there in time to counsel moderation,” added Padre Irene, speaking
+to Capitan Tiago, “it’s certain that blood would now be flowing through the streets.
+I thought of you, Capitan—The partizans of force couldn’t do much with the General,
+and they missed Simoun. Ah, if Simoun had not been taken ill—”
+</p>
+<p>With the arrest of Basilio and the search made later among his books and papers, Capitan
+Tiago had become much worse. Now Padre Irene had come to augment his terror with hair-raising
+tales. Ineffable fear seized upon the wretch, manifesting itself first by a light
+shiver, which was rapidly accentuated, until he was unable to speak. With his eyes
+bulging and his brow covered with sweat, he caught Padre Irene’s arm and tried to
+rise, but could not, and then, uttering two groans, fell heavily back upon the pillow.
+His eyes were wide open and he was slavering—but he was dead. The terrified Padre
+Irene fled, and, as the dying man had caught hold of him, in his flight he dragged
+the corpse from the bed, leaving it sprawling in the middle of the room.
+</p>
+<p>By night the terror had reached a climax. Several incidents had occurred to make the
+timorous believe in the presence of secret agitators.
+</p>
+<p>During a baptism some cuartos were thrown to the boys and naturally there was a scramble
+at the door of the church. It happened that at the time there was passing a bold soldier,
+who, somewhat preoccupied, mistook the uproar for a gathering of filibusters and hurled
+himself, sword in hand, upon the boys. He went into the church, and had he not become
+entangled in the curtains suspended from the choir he would not have left a single
+head on shoulders. It was but the matter of a moment for the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4291">[<a href="#xd32e4291">277</a>]</span>timorous to witness this and take to flight, spreading the news that the revolution
+had begun. The few shops that had been kept open were now hastily closed, there being
+Chinese who even left bolts of cloth outside, and not a few women lost their slippers
+in their flight through the streets. Fortunately, there was only one person wounded
+and a few bruised, among them the soldier himself, who suffered a fall fighting with
+the curtain, which smelt to him of filibusterism. Such prowess gained him great renown,
+and a renown so pure that it is to be wished all fame could be acquired in like manner—mothers
+would then weep less and earth would be more populous!
+</p>
+<p>In a suburb the inhabitants caught two unknown individuals burying arms under a house,
+whereupon a tumult arose and the people pursued the strangers in order to kill them
+and turn their bodies over to the authorities, but some one pacified the excited crowd
+by telling them that it would be sufficient to hand over the <i lang="la">corpora delictorum</i>, which proved to be some old shotguns that would surely have killed the first person
+who tried to fire them.
+</p>
+<p>“All right,” exclaimed one braggart, “if they want us to rebel, let’s go ahead!” But
+he was cuffed and kicked into silence, the women pinching him as though he had been
+the owner of the shotguns.
+</p>
+<p>In Ermita the affair was more serious, even though there was less excitement, and
+that when there were shots fired. A certain cautious government employee, armed to
+the teeth, saw at nightfall an object near his house, and taking it for nothing less
+than a student, fired at it twice with a revolver. The object proved to be a policeman,
+and they buried him—<i lang="la">pax Christi! Mutis!</i>
+</p>
+<p>In Dulumbayan various shots also resounded, from which there resulted the death of
+a poor old deaf man, who had not heard the sentinel’s <i lang="es">quién vive</i>, and of a hog that had heard it and had not answered <i lang="es">España</i>! The old man was buried with difficulty, since there was no money to pay for the
+obsequies, but the hog was eaten.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4312">[<a href="#xd32e4312">278</a>]</span></p>
+<p>In Manila,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4315src" href="#xd32e4315">1</a> in a confectionery near the University much frequented by the students, the arrests
+were thus commented upon.
+</p>
+<p>“And have they arrested Tadeo?”<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4321src" href="#xd32e4321">2</a> asked the proprietess.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Abá</i>!” answered a student who lived in Parian, “he’s already shot!”
+</p>
+<p>“Shot! <i>Nakú</i>! He hasn’t paid what he owes me.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ay, don’t mention that or you’ll be taken for an accomplice. I’ve already burnt the
+book<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4334src" href="#xd32e4334">3</a> you lent me. There might be a search and it would be found. Be careful!”
+</p>
+<p>“Did you say that Isagani is a prisoner?”
+</p>
+<p>“Crazy fool, too, that Isagani,” replied the indignant student. “They didn’t try to
+catch him, but he went and surrendered. Let him bust himself—he’ll surely be shot.”
+</p>
+<p>The señora shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t owe me anything. And what about Paulita?”
+</p>
+<p>“She won’t lack a husband. Sure, she’ll cry a little, and then marry a Spaniard.”
+</p>
+<p>The night was one of the gloomiest. In the houses the rosary was recited and pious
+women dedicated paternosters and requiems to each of the souls of their relatives
+and friends. By eight o’clock hardly a pedestrian could be seen—only from time to
+time was heard the galloping of a horse against whose sides a saber clanked noisily,
+then the whistles of the watchmen, and carriages that whirled along at full speed,
+as though pursued by mobs of filibusters.
+</p>
+<p>Yet terror did not reign everywhere. In the house of the silversmith, where Placido
+Penitente boarded, the events were commented upon and discussed with some freedom.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4346">[<a href="#xd32e4346">279</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“I don’t believe in the pasquinades,” declared a workman, lank and withered from operating
+the blowpipe. “To me it looks like Padre Salvi’s doings.”
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem, ahem!” coughed the silversmith, a very prudent man, who did not dare to stop
+the conversation from fear that he would be considered a coward. The good man had
+to content himself with coughing, winking to his helper, and gazing toward the street,
+as if to say, “They may be watching us!”
+</p>
+<p>“On account of the operetta,” added another workman.
+</p>
+<p>“Aha!” exclaimed one who had a foolish face, “I told you so!”
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem!” rejoined a clerk, in a tone of compassion, “the affair of the pasquinades
+is true, Chichoy, and I can give you the explanation.”
+</p>
+<p>Then he added mysteriously, “It’s a trick of the Chinaman Quiroga’s!”
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem, ahem!” again coughed the silversmith, shifting his quid of buyo from one cheek
+to the other.
+</p>
+<p>“Believe me, Chichoy, of Quiroga the Chinaman! I heard it in the office.”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Nakú</i>, it’s certain then,” exclaimed the simpleton, believing it at once.
+</p>
+<p>“Quiroga,” explained the clerk, “has a hundred thousand pesos in Mexican silver out
+in the bay. How is he to get it in? Very easily. Fix up the pasquinades, availing
+himself of the question of the students, and, while every-body is excited, grease
+the officials’ palms, and in the cases come!”
+</p>
+<p>“Just it! Just it!” cried the credulous fool, striking the table with his fist. “Just
+it! That’s why Quiroga did it! That’s why—” But he had to relapse into silence as
+he really did not know what to say about Quiroga.
+</p>
+<p>“And we must pay the damages?” asked the indignant Chichoy.
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!” coughed the silversmith, hearing steps in the street.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4366">[<a href="#xd32e4366">280</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The footsteps approached and all in the shop fell silent.
+</p>
+<p>“St. Pascual Bailon is a great saint,” declared the silversmith hypocritically, in
+a loud voice, at the same time winking to the others. “St. Pascual Bailon—”
+</p>
+<p>At that moment there appeared the face of Placido Penitente, who was accompanied by
+the pyrotechnician that we saw receiving orders from Simoun. The newcomers were surrounded
+and importuned for news.
+</p>
+<p>“I haven’t been able to talk with the prisoners,” explained Placido. “There are some
+thirty of them.”
+</p>
+<p>“Be on your guard,” cautioned the pyrotechnician, exchanging a knowing look with Placido.
+“They say that to-night there’s going to be a massacre.”
+</p>
+<p>“Aha! Thunder!” exclaimed Chichoy, looking about for a weapon. Seeing none, he caught
+up his blowpipe.
+</p>
+<p>The silversmith sat down, trembling in every limb. The credulous simpleton already
+saw himself beheaded and wept in anticipation over the fate of his family.
+</p>
+<p>“No,” contradicted the clerk, “there’s not going to be any massacre. The adviser of”—he
+made a mysterious gesture—“is fortunately sick.”
+</p>
+<p>“Simoun!”
+</p>
+<p>“Ahem, ahem, a-h-hem!”
+</p>
+<p>Placido and the pyrotechnician exchanged another look.
+</p>
+<p>“If he hadn’t got sick—”
+</p>
+<p>“It would look like a revolution,” added the pyrotechnician negligently, as he lighted
+a cigarette in the lamp chimney. “And what should we do then?”
+</p>
+<p>“Then we’d start a real one, now that they’re going to massacre us anyhow—”
+</p>
+<p>The violent fit of coughing that seized the silversmith prevented the rest of this
+speech from being heard, but Chichoy must have been saying terrible things, to judge
+from his murderous gestures with the blowpipe and the face of a Japanese tragedian
+that he put on.
+</p>
+<p>“Rather say that he’s playing off sick because he’s afraid to go out. As may be seen—”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4385">[<a href="#xd32e4385">281</a>]</span></p>
+<p>The silversmith was attacked by another fit of coughing so severe that he finally
+asked all to retire.
+</p>
+<p>“Nevertheless, get ready,” warned the pyrotechnician. “If they want to force us to
+kill or be killed—”
+</p>
+<p>Another fit of coughing on the part of the poor silversmith prevented further conversation,
+so the workmen and apprentices retired to their homes, carrying with them hammers
+and saws, and other implements, more or less cutting, more or less bruising, disposed
+to sell their lives dearly. Placido and the pyrotechnician went out again.
+</p>
+<p>“Prudence, prudence!” cautioned the silversmith in a tearful voice.
+</p>
+<p>“You’ll take care of my widow and orphans!” begged the credulous simpleton in a still
+more tearful voice, for he already saw himself riddled with bullets and buried.
+</p>
+<p>That night the guards at the city gates were replaced with Peninsular artillerymen,
+and on the following morning as the sun rose, Ben-Zayb, who had ventured to take a
+morning stroll to examine the condition of the fortifications, found on the glacis
+near the Luneta the corpse of a native girl, half-naked and abandoned. Ben-Zayb was
+horrified, but after touching it with his cane and gazing toward the gates proceeded
+on his way, musing over a sentimental tale he might base upon the incident.
+</p>
+<p>However, no allusion to it appeared in the newspapers on the following days, engrossed
+as they were with the falls and slippings caused by banana-peels. In the dearth of
+news Ben-Zayb had to comment at length on a cyclone that had destroyed in America
+whole towns, causing the death of more than two thousand persons. Among other beautiful
+things he said:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">“<i>The sentiment of charity</i>, MORE PREVALENT IN CATHOLIC COUNTRIES THAN IN OTHERS, and the thought of Him who,
+influenced by that same feeling, sacrificed himself for <i>humanity, moves (sic)</i> us to compassion over the misfortunes of our kind and to render thanks that <i>in this country</i>, so scourged by cyclones, there are not enacted scenes so desolating as that which
+the inhabitants of the United States mus have witnessed!”</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4405">[<a href="#xd32e4405">282</a>]</span></p>
+<p><i>Horatius</i> did not miss the opportunity, and, also without mentioning the dead, or the murdered
+native girl, or the assaults, answered him in his <i>Pirotecnia</i>:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">“After such great charity and such great humanity, Fray Ibañez—I mean, Ben-Zayb—brings
+himself to pray for the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p>But he is understood.
+</p>
+<p>Because he is not Catholic, and the sentiment of charity is most prevalent,” etc.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4416src" href="#xd32e4416">4</a></p>
+</blockquote><p>
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4419">[<a href="#xd32e4419">283</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4315">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4315src">1</a></span> The Walled City, the original Manila, is still known to the Spaniards and older natives
+exclusively as such, the other districts being referred to by their distinctive names.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4315src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4321">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4321src">2</a></span> Nearly all the dialogue in this chapter is in the mongrel Spanish-Tagalog “market
+language,” which cannot be reproduced in English.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4321src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4334">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4334src">3</a></span> Doubtless a reference to the author’s first work, <i>Noli Me Tangere</i>, which was tabooed by the authorities.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4334src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4416">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4416src">4</a></span> Such inanities as these are still a feature of Manila journalism.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4416src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch29" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e495">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXIX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Exit Capitan Tiago</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="la">Talis vita, finis ita</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Tiago had a good end—that is, a quite exceptional funeral. True it is that
+the curate of the parish had ventured the observation to Padre Irene that Capitan
+Tiago had died without confession, but the good priest, smiling sardonically, had
+rubbed the tip of his nose and answered:
+</p>
+<p>“Why say that to me? If we had to deny the obsequies to all who die without confession,
+we should forget the <i>De profundis</i>! These restrictions, as you well know, are enforced when the impenitent is also insolvent.
+But Capitan Tiago—out on you! You’ve buried infidel Chinamen, and with a requiem mass!”
+</p>
+<p>Capitan Tiago had named Padre Irene as his executor and willed his property in part
+to St. Clara, part to the Pope, to the Archbishop, the religious corporations, leaving
+twenty pesos for the matriculation of poor students. This last clause had been dictated
+at the suggestion of Padre Irene, in his capacity as protector of studious youths.
+Capitan Tiago had annulled a legacy of twenty-five pesos that he had left to Basilio,
+in view of the ungrateful conduct of the boy during the last few days, but Padre Irene
+had restored it and announced that he would take it upon his own purse and conscience.
+</p>
+<p>In the dead man’s house, where were assembled on the following day many old friends
+and acquaintances, considerable comment was indulged in over a miracle. It was reported
+that, at the very moment when he was dying, the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4436">[<a href="#xd32e4436">284</a>]</span>soul of Capitan Tiago had appeared to the nuns surrounded by a brilliant light. God
+had saved him, thanks to the pious legacies, and to the numerous masses he had paid
+for. The story was commented upon, it was recounted vividly, it took on particulars,
+and was doubted by no one. The appearance of Capitan Tiago was minutely described—of
+course the frock coat, the cheek bulged out by the quid of buyo, without omitting
+the game-cock and the opium-pipe. The senior sacristan, who was present, gravely affirmed
+these facts with his head and reflected that, after death, he would appear with his
+cup of white <i>tajú</i>, for without that refreshing breakfast he could not comprehend happiness either on
+earth or in heaven.
+</p>
+<p>On this subject, because of their inability to discuss the events of the preceding
+day and because there were gamblers present, many strange speculations were developed.
+They made conjectures as to whether Capitan Tiago would invite St. Peter to a <i>soltada</i>, whether they would place bets, whether the game-cocks were immortal, whether invulnerable,
+and in this case who would be the referee, who would win, and so on: discussions quite
+to the taste of those who found sciences, theories, and systems, based on a text which
+they esteem infallible, revealed or dogmatic. Moreover, there were cited passages
+from novenas, books of miracles, sayings of the curates, descriptions of heaven, and
+other embroidery. Don Primitivo, the philosopher, was in his glory quoting opinions
+of the theologians.
+</p>
+<p>“Because no one can lose,” he stated with great authority. “To lose would cause hard
+feelings and in heaven there can’t be any hard feelings.”
+</p>
+<p>“But some one has to win,” rejoined the gambler Aristorenas. “The fun lies in winning!”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, both win, that’s easy!”
+</p>
+<p>This idea of both winning could not be admitted by Aristorenas, for he had passed
+his life in the cockpit and had always seen one cock lose and the other win—at best,
+there was a tie. Vainly Don Primitivo argued in Latin. <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4450">[<a href="#xd32e4450">285</a>]</span>Aristorenas shook his head, and that too when Don Primitivo’s Latin was easy to understand,
+for he talked of <i>an gallus talisainus, acuto tari armatus, an gallus beati Petri bulikus sasabung̃us
+sit</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4454src" href="#xd32e4454">1</a> and so on, until at length he decided to resort to the argument which many use to
+convince and silence their opponents.
+</p>
+<p>“You’re going to be damned, friend Martin, you’re falling into heresy! <i lang="la">Cave ne cadas!</i> I’m not going to play monte with you any more, and we’ll not set up a bank together.
+You deny the omnipotence of God, <i lang="la">peccatum mortale!</i> You deny the existence of the Holy Trinity— three are one and one is three! Take
+care! You indirectly deny that two natures, two understandings, and two wills can
+have only one memory! Be careful! <i lang="la">Quicumque non crederit anathema sit!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>Martin Aristorenas shrank away pale and trembling, while Quiroga, who had listened
+with great attention to the argument, with marked deference offered the philosopher
+a magnificent cigar, at the same time asking in his caressing voice: “Surely, one
+can make a contract for a cockpit with Kilisto,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4485src" href="#xd32e4485">2</a> ha? When I die, I’ll be the contractor, ha?”
+</p>
+<p>Among the others, they talked more of the deceased; at least they discussed what kind
+of clothing to put on him. Capitan Tinong proposed a Franciscan habit—and fortunately,
+he had one, old, threadbare, and patched, a precious object which, according to the
+friar who gave it to him as alms in exchange for thirty-six pesos, would preserve
+the corpse from the flames of hell and which reckoned in its <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4492">[<a href="#xd32e4492">286</a>]</span>support various pious anecdotes taken from the books distributed by the curates. Although
+he held this relic in great esteem, Capitan Tinong was disposed to part with it for
+the sake of his intimate friend, whom he had not been able to visit during his illness.
+But a tailor objected, with good reason, that since the nuns had seen Capitan Tiago
+ascending to heaven in a frock coat, in a frock coat he should be dressed here on
+earth, nor was there any necessity for preservatives and fire-proof garments. The
+deceased had attended balls and fiestas in a frock coat, and nothing else would be
+expected of him in the skies—and, wonderful to relate, the tailor accidentally happened
+to have one ready, which he would part with for thirty-two pesos, four cheaper than
+the Franciscan habit, because he didn’t want to make any profit on Capitan Tiago,
+who had been his customer in life and would now be his patron in heaven. But Padre
+Irene, trustee and executor, rejected both proposals and ordered that the Capitan
+be dressed in one of his old suits of clothes, remarking with holy unction that God
+paid no attention to clothing.
+</p>
+<p>The obsequies were, therefore, of the very first class. There were responsories in
+the house, and in the street three friars officiated, as though one were not sufficient
+for such a great soul. All the rites and ceremonies possible were performed, and it
+is reported that there were even <i>extras</i>, as in the benefits for actors. It was indeed a delight: loads of incense were burned,
+there were plenty of Latin chants, large quantities of holy water were expended, and
+Padre Irene, out of regard for his old friend, sang the <i>Dies Irae</i> in a falsetto voice from the choir, while the neighbors suffered real headaches from
+so much knell-ringing.
+</p>
+<p>Doña Patrocinio, the ancient rival of Capitan Tiago in religiosity, actually wanted
+to die on the next day, so that she might order even more sumptuous obsequies. The
+pious old lady could not bear the thought that he, whom she had long considered vanquished
+forever, should in dying come <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4502">[<a href="#xd32e4502">287</a>]</span>forward again with so much pomp. Yes, she desired to die, and it seemed that she could
+hear the exclamations of the people at the funeral: “This indeed is what you call
+a funeral! This indeed is to know how to die, Doña Patrocinio!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4504">[<a href="#xd32e4504">288</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4454">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4454src">1</a></span> “Whether there would be a <i>talisain</i> cock, armed with a sharp gaff, whether the blessed Peter’s fighting-cock would be
+a <i>bulik</i>—”
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont"><i>Talisain</i> and <i>bulik</i> are distinguishing terms in the vernacular for fighting-cocks, <i>tari</i> and <i>sasabung̃in</i> the Tagalog terms for “gaff” and “game-cock,” respectively.
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">The Tagalog terminology of the cockpit and monkish Latin certainly make a fearful
+and wonderful mixture—nor did the author have to resort to his imagination to get
+samples of it.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4454src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4485">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4485src">2</a></span> This is Quiroga’s pronunciation of <i>Christo</i>.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4485src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch30" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e505">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Juli</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">The death of Capitan Tiago and Basilio’s imprisonment were soon reported in the province,
+and to the honor of the simple inhabitants of San Diego, let it be recorded that the
+latter was the incident more regretted and almost the only one discussed. As was to
+be expected, the report took on different forms, sad and startling details were given,
+what could not be understood was explained, the gaps being filled by conjectures,
+which soon passed for accomplished facts, and the phantoms thus created terrified
+their own creators.
+</p>
+<p>In the town of Tiani it was reported that at least, at the very least, the young man
+was going to be deported and would very probably be murdered on the journey. The timorous
+and pessimistic were not satisfied with this but even talked about executions and
+courts-martial—January was a fatal month; in January the Cavite affair had occurred,
+and <i>they</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4513src" href="#xd32e4513">1</a> even though curates, had been garroted, so a poor Basilio without protectors or friends—
+</p>
+<p>“I told him so!” sighed the Justice of the Peace, as if he had at some time given
+advice to Basilio. “I told him so.”
+</p>
+<p>“It was to be expected,” commented Sister Penchang. “He would go into the church and
+when he saw that the holy water was somewhat dirty he wouldn’t cross himself with
+it. He talked about germs and disease, <i>abá</i>, it’s the chastisement of God! He deserved it, and he got it! As <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4521">[<a href="#xd32e4521">289</a>]</span>though the holy water could transmit diseases! Quite the contrary, <i>abá!</i>”
+</p>
+<p>She then related how she had cured herself of indigestion by moistening her stomach
+with holy water, at the same time reciting the <i>Sanctus Deus</i>, and she recommended the remedy to those present when they should suffer from dysentery,
+or an epidemic occurred, only that then they must pray in Spanish:
+</p>
+<div lang="es" class="lgouter">
+<p class="line">Santo Diós,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Santo fuerte,
+</p>
+<p class="line">Santo inmortal,
+</p>
+<p class="line">¡Libranos, Señor, de la peste
+</p>
+<p class="line">Y de todo mal!<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4536src" href="#xd32e4536">2</a></p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">“It’s an infallible remedy, but you must apply the holy water to the part affected,”
+she concluded.
+</p>
+<p>But there were many persons who did not believe in these things, nor did they attribute
+Basilio’s imprisonment to the chastisement of God. Nor did they take any stock in
+insurrections and pasquinades, knowing the prudent and ultra-pacific character of
+the boy, but preferred to ascribe it to revenge on the part of the friars, because
+of his having rescued from servitude Juli, the daughter of a tulisan who was the mortal
+enemy of a certain powerful corporation. As they had quite a poor idea of the morality
+of that same corporation and could recall cases of petty revenge, their conjecture
+was believed to have more probability and justification.
+</p>
+<p>“What a good thing I did when I drove her from my house!” said Sister Penchang. “I
+don’t want to have any trouble with the friars, so I urged her to find the money.”
+</p>
+<p>The truth was, however, that she regretted Juli’s liberty, for Juli prayed and fasted
+for her, and if she had stayed a longer time, would also have done penance. Why, if
+the curates pray for us and Christ died for our sins, couldn’t Juli do the same for
+Sister Penchang?
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4546">[<a href="#xd32e4546">290</a>]</span></p>
+<p>When the news reached the hut where the poor Juli and her grandfather lived, the girl
+had to have it repeated to her. She stared at Sister Bali, who was telling it, as
+though without comprehension, without ability to collect her thoughts. Her ears buzzed,
+she felt a sinking at the heart and had a vague presentiment that this event would
+have a disastrous influence on her own future. Yet she tried to seize upon a ray of
+hope, she smiled, thinking that Sister Bali was joking with her, a rather strong joke,
+to be sure, but she forgave her beforehand if she would acknowledge that it was such.
+But Sister Bali made a cross with one of her thumbs and a forefinger, and kissed it,
+to prove that she was telling the truth. Then the smile faded forever from the girl’s
+lips, she turned pale, frightfully pale, she felt her strength leave her and for the
+first time in her life she lost consciousness, falling into a swoon.
+</p>
+<p>When by dint of blows, pinches, dashes of water, crosses, and the application of sacred
+palms, the girl recovered and remembered the situation, silent tears sprang from her
+eyes, drop by drop, without sobs, without laments, without complaints! She thought
+about Basilio, who had had no other protector than Capitan Tiago, and who now, with
+the Capitan dead, was left completely unprotected and in prison. In the Philippines
+it is a well-known fact that patrons are needed for everything, from the time one
+is christened until one dies, in order to get justice, to secure a passport, or to
+develop an industry. As it was said that his imprisonment was due to revenge on account
+of herself and her father, the girl’s sorrow turned to desperation. Now it was her
+duty to liberate him, as he had done in rescuing her from servitude, and the inner
+voice which suggested the idea offered to her imagination a horrible means.
+</p>
+<p>“Padre Camorra, the curate,” whispered the voice. Juli gnawed at her lips and became
+lost in gloomy meditation.
+</p>
+<p>As a result of her father’s crime, her grandfather had been arrested in the hope that
+by such means the son could be made to appear. The only one who could get him <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4552">[<a href="#xd32e4552">291</a>]</span>his liberty was Padre Camorra, and Padre Camorra had shown himself to be poorly satisfied
+with her words of gratitude, having with his usual frankness asked for some sacrifices—since
+which time Juli had tried to avoid meeting him. But the curate made her kiss his hand,
+he twitched her nose and patted her cheeks, he joked with her, winking and laughing,
+and laughing he pinched her. Juli was also the cause of the beating the good curate
+had administered to some young men who were going about the village serenading the
+girls. Malicious ones, seeing her pass sad and dejected, would remark so that she
+might hear: “If she only wished it, Cabesang Tales would be pardoned.”
+</p>
+<p>Juli reached her home, gloomy and with wandering looks. She had changed greatly, having
+lost her merriment, and no one ever saw her smile again. She scarcely spoke and seemed
+to be afraid to look at her own face. One day she was seen in the town with a big
+spot of soot on her forehead, she who used to go so trim and neat. Once she asked
+Sister Bali if the people who committed suicide went to hell.
+</p>
+<p>“Surely!” replied that woman, and proceeded to describe the place as though she had
+been there.
+</p>
+<p>Upon Basilio’s imprisonment, the simple and grateful relatives had planned to make
+all kinds of sacrifices to save the young man, but as they could collect among themselves
+no more than thirty pesos, Sister Bali, as usual, thought of a better plan.
+</p>
+<p>“What we must do is to get some advice from the town clerk,” she said. To these poor
+people, the town clerk was what the Delphic oracle was to the ancient Greeks.
+</p>
+<p>“By giving him a real and a cigar,” she continued, “he’ll tell you all the laws so
+that your head bursts listening to him. If you have a peso, he’ll save you, even though
+you may be at the foot of the scaffold. When my friend Simon was put in jail and flogged
+for not being able to give evidence about a robbery perpetrated near his house, <i>abá</i>, for two reales and a half and a string of garlics, the town clerk got him out. And
+I saw Simon myself when <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4562">[<a href="#xd32e4562">292</a>]</span>he could scarcely walk and he had to stay in bed at least a month. Ay, his flesh rotted
+as a result and he died!”
+</p>
+<p>Sister Bali’s advice was accepted and she herself volunteered to interview the town
+clerk. Juli gave her four reales and added some strips of jerked venison her grand-father
+had got, for Tandang Selo had again devoted himself to hunting.
+</p>
+<p>But the town clerk could do nothing—the prisoner was in Manila, and his power did
+not extend that far. “If at least he were at the capital, then—” he ventured, to make
+a show of his authority, which he knew very well did not extend beyond the boundaries
+of Tiani, but he had to maintain his prestige and keep the jerked venison. “But I
+can give you a good piece of advice, and it is that you go with Juli to see the Justice
+of the Peace. But it’s very necessary that Juli go.”
+</p>
+<p>The Justice of the Peace was a very rough fellow, but if he should see Juli he might
+conduct himself less rudely—this is wherein lay the wisdom of the advice.
+</p>
+<p>With great gravity the honorable Justice listened to Sister Bali, who did the talking,
+but not without staring from time to time at the girl, who hung her head with shame.
+People would say that she was greatly interested in Basilio, people who did not remember
+her debt of gratitude, nor that his imprisonment, according to report, was on her
+account.
+</p>
+<p>After belching three or four times, for his Honor had that ugly habit, he said that
+the only person who could save Basilio was Padre Camorra, <i>in case he should care to do so</i>. Here he stared meaningly at the girl and advised her to deal with the curate in
+person.
+</p>
+<p>“You know what influence he has,—he got your grand-father out of jail. A report from
+him is enough to deport a new-born babe or save from death a man with the noose about
+his neck.”
+</p>
+<p>Juli said nothing, but Sister Bali took this advice as though she had read it in a
+novena, and was ready to accompany the girl to the convento. It so happened that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4576">[<a href="#xd32e4576">293</a>]</span>she was just going there to get as alms a scapulary in exchange for four full reales.
+</p>
+<p>But Juli shook her head and was unwilling to go to the convento. Sister Bali thought
+she could guess the reason—Padre Camorra was reputed to be very fond of the women
+and was very frolicsome—so she tried to reassure her. “You’ve nothing to fear if I
+go with you. Haven’t you read in the booklet <i>Tandang Basio</i>, given you by the curate, that the girls should go to the convento, even without
+the knowledge of their elders, to relate what is going on at home? <i>Abá</i>, that book is printed with the permission of the Archbishop!”
+</p>
+<p>Juli became impatient and wished to cut short such talk, so she begged the pious woman
+to go if she wished, but his Honor observed with a belch that the supplications of
+a youthful face were more moving than those of an old one, the sky poured its dew
+over the fresh flowers in greater abundance than over the withered ones. The metaphor
+was fiendishly beautiful.
+</p>
+<p>Juli did not reply and the two left the house. In the street the girl firmly refused
+to go to the convento and they returned to their village. Sister Bali, who felt offended
+at this lack of confidence in herself, on the way home relieved her feelings by administering
+a long preachment to the girl.
+</p>
+<p>The truth was that the girl could not take that step without damning herself in her
+own eyes, besides being cursed of men and cursed of God! It had been intimated to
+her several times, whether with reason or not, that if she would make that sacrifice
+her father would be pardoned, and yet she had refused, in spite of the cries of her
+conscience reminding her of her filial duty. Now must she make it for Basilio, her
+sweetheart? That would be to fall to the sound of mockery and laughter from all creation.
+Basilio himself would despise her! No, never! She would first hang herself or leap
+from some precipice. At any rate, she was already damned for being a wicked daughter.
+</p>
+<p>The poor girl had besides to endure all the reproaches <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4589">[<a href="#xd32e4589">294</a>]</span>of her relatives, who, knowing nothing of what had passed between her and Padre Camovra,
+laughed at her fears. Would Padre Camorra fix his attention upon a country girl when
+there were so many others in the town? Hero the good women cited names of unmarried
+girls, rich and beautiful, who had been more or less unfortunate. Meanwhile, if they
+should shoot Basilio?
+</p>
+<p>Juli covered her ears and stared wildly about, as if seeking a voice that might plead
+for her, but she saw only her grandfather, who was dumb and had his gaze fixed on
+his hunting-spear.
+</p>
+<p>That night she scarcely slept at all. Dreams and nightmares, some funereal, some bloody,
+danced before her sight and woke her often, bathed in cold perspiration. She fancied
+that she heard shots, she imagined that she saw her father, that father who had done
+so much for her, fighting in the forests, hunted like a wild beast because she had
+refused to save him. The figure of her father was transformed and she recognized Basilio,
+dying, with looks of reproach at her. The wretched girl arose, prayed, wept, called
+upon her mother, upon death, and there was even a moment when, overcome with terror,
+if it had not been night-time, she would have run straight to the convento, let happen
+what would.
+</p>
+<p>With the coming of day the sad presentiments and the terrors of darkness were partly
+dissipated. The light inspired hopes in her. But the news of the afternoon was terrible,
+for there was talk of persons shot, so the next night was for the girl frightful.
+In her desperation she decided to give herself up as soon as day dawned and then kill
+herself afterwards—anything, rather than enditre such tortures! But the dawn brought
+new hope and she would not go to church or even leave the house. She was afraid she
+would yield.
+</p>
+<p>So passed several days in praying and cursing, in calling upon God and wishing for
+death. The day gave her a slight respite and she trusted in some miracle. The reports
+that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4597">[<a href="#xd32e4597">295</a>]</span>came from Manila, although they reached there magnified, said that of the prisoners
+some had secured their liberty, thanks to patrons and influence. Some one had to be
+sacrificed—who would it be? Juli shuddered and returned home biting her finger-nails.
+Then came the night with its terrors, which took on double proportions and seemed
+to be converted into realities. Juli feared to fall asleep, for her slumbers were
+a continuous nightmare. Looks of reproach would flash across her eyelids just as soon
+as they were closed, complaints and laments pierced her ears. She saw her father wandering
+about hungry, without rest or repose; she saw Basilio dying in the road, pierced by
+two bullets, just as she had seen the corpse of that neighbor who had been killed
+while in the charge of the Civil Guard. She saw the bonds that cut into the flesh,
+she saw the blood pouring from the mouth, she heard Basilio calling to her, “Save
+me! Save me! You alone can save me!” Then a burst of laughter would resound and she
+would turn her eyes to see her father gazing at her with eyes full of reproach. Juli
+would wake up, sit up on her <i>petate</i>, and draw her hands across her forehead to arrange her hair—cold sweat, like the
+sweat of death, moistened it!
+</p>
+<p>“Mother, mother!” she sobbed.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, they who were so carelessly disposing of people’s fates, he who commanded
+the legal murders, he who violated justice and made use of the law to maintain himself
+by force, slept in peace.
+</p>
+<p>At last a traveler arrived from Manila and reported that all the prisoners had been
+set free, all except Basilio, who had no protector. It was reported in Manila, added
+the traveler, that the young man would be deported to the Carolines, having been forced
+to sign a petition beforehand, in which he declared that he asked it voluntarily.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4605src" href="#xd32e4605">3</a> The <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4608">[<a href="#xd32e4608">296</a>]</span>traveler had seen the very steamer that was going to take him away.
+</p>
+<p>This report put an end to all the girl’s hesitation. Besides, her mind was already
+quite weak from so many nights of watching and horrible dreams. Pale and with unsteady
+eyes, she sought out Sister Bali and, in a voice that was cause for alarm, told her
+that she was ready, asking her to accompany her. Sister Bali thereupon rejoiced and
+tried to soothe her, but Juli paid no attention to her, apparently intent only upon
+hurrying to the convento. She had decked herself out in her finest clothes, and even
+pretended to be quite gay, talking a great deal, although in a rather incoherent way.
+</p>
+<p>So they set out. Juli went ahead, becoming impatient that her companion lagged behind.
+But as they neared the town, her nervous energy began gradually to abate, she fell
+silent and wavered in her resolution, lessened her pace and soon dropped behind, so
+that Sister Bali had to encourage her.
+</p>
+<p>“We’ll get there late,” she remonstrated.
+</p>
+<p>Juli now followed, pale, with downcast eyes, which she was afraid to raise. She felt
+that the whole world was staring at her and pointing its finger at her. A vile name
+whistled in her ears, but still she disregarded it and continued on her way. Nevertheless,
+when they came in sight of the convento, she stopped and began to tremble.
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s go home, let’s go home,” she begged, holding her companion back.
+</p>
+<p>Sister Bali had to take her by the arm and half drag her along, reassuring her and
+telling her about the books of the friars. She would not desert her, so there was
+nothing to fear. Padre Camorra had other things in mind—Juli was only a poor country
+girl.
+</p>
+<p>But upon arriving at the door of the convento, Juli firmly refused to go in, catching
+hold of the wall.
+</p>
+<p>“No, no,” she pleaded in terror. “No, no, no! Have pity!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4620">[<a href="#xd32e4620">297</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“But what a fool—”
+</p>
+<p>Sister Bali pushed her gently along, Juli, pallid and with wild features, offering
+resistance. The expression of her face said that she saw death before her.
+</p>
+<p>“All right, let’s go back, if you don’t want to!” at length the good woman exclaimed
+in irritation, as she did not believe there was any real danger. Padre Camorra, in
+spite of all his reputation, would dare do nothing before her.
+</p>
+<p>“Let them carry poor Basilio into exile, let them shoot him on the way, saying that
+he tried to escape,” she added. “When he’s dead, then remorse will come. But as for
+myself, I owe him no favors, so he can’t reproach me!”
+</p>
+<p>That was the decisive stroke. In the face of that reproach, with wrath and desperation
+mingled, like one who rushes to suicide, Juli closed her eyes in order not to see
+the abyss into which she was hurling herself and resolutely entered the convento.
+A sigh that sounded like the rattle of death escaped from her lips. Sister Bali followed,
+telling her how to act.
+</p>
+<p>That night comments were mysteriously whispered about certain events which had occurred
+that afternoon. A girl had leaped from a window of the convento, falling upon some
+stones and killing herself. Almost at the same time another woman had rushed out of
+the convento to run through the streets shouting and screaming like a lunatic. The
+prudent townsfolk dared not utter any names and many mothers pinched their daughters
+for letting slip expressions that might compromise them.
+</p>
+<p>Later, very much later, at twilight, an old man came from a village and stood calling
+at the door of the convento, which was closed and guarded by sacristans. The old man
+beat the door with his fists and with his head, while he littered cries stifled and
+inarticulate, like those of a dumb person, until he was at length driven away by blows
+and shoves. Then he made his way to the gobernadorcillo’s house, but was told that
+the gobernadorcillo was not there, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4629">[<a href="#xd32e4629">298</a>]</span>he was at the convento; he went to the Justice of the Peace, but neither was the Justice
+of the Peace at home—he had been summoned to the convento; he went to the teniente-mayor,
+but he too was at the convento; he directed his steps to the barracks, but the lieutenant
+of the Civil Guard was at the convento. The old man then returned to his village,
+weeping like a child. His wails were heard in the middle of the night, causing men
+to bite their lips and women to clasp their hands, while the dogs slunk fearfully
+back into the houses with their tails between their legs.
+</p>
+<p>“Ah, God, God!” said a poor woman, lean from fasting, “in Thy presence there is no
+rich, no poor, no white, no black—Thou wilt grant us justice!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” rejoined her husband, “just so that God they preach is not a pure invention,
+a fraud! They themselves are the first not to believe in Him.”
+</p>
+<p>At eight o’clock in the evening it was rumored that more than seven friars, proceeding
+from neighboring towns, were assembled in the convento to hold a conference. On the
+following day, Tandang Selo disappeared forever from the village, carrying with him
+his hunting-spear.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4636">[<a href="#xd32e4636">299</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4513">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4513src">1</a></span> The native priests Burgos, Gomez, and Zamora, charged with complicity in the uprising
+of 1872, and executed.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4513src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4536" lang="en">
+<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4536src">2</a></span> This versicle, found in the booklets of prayer, is common on the scapularies, which,
+during the late insurrection, were easily converted into the <i>anting-anting</i>, or amulets, worn by the fanatics.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4536src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4605">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4605src">3</a></span> This practise—secretly compelling suspects to sign a request to be transferred to
+some other island—was by no means a figment of the author’s imagination, but was extensively
+practised to anticipate any legal difficulties that might arise.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4605src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch31" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e515">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The High Official</h2>
+<blockquote lang="fr">
+<p class="first">L’Espagne et sa, vertu, l’Espagne et sa grandeur
+<br>Tout s’en va!—Victor Hugo</p>
+</blockquote>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p>The newspapers of Manila were so engrossed in accounts of a notorious murder committed
+in Europe, in panegyrics and puffs for various preachers in the city, in the constantly
+increasing success of the French operetta, that they could scarcely devote space to
+the crimes perpetrated in the provinces by a band of tulisanes headed by a fierce
+and terrible leader who was called <i>Matanglawin.</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4649src" href="#xd32e4649">1</a> Only when the object of the attack was a convento or a Spaniard there then appeared
+long articles giving frightful details and asking for martial law, energetic measures,
+and so on. So it was that they could take no notice of what had occurred in the town
+of Tiani, nor was there the slightest hint or allusion to it. In private circles something
+was whispered, but so confused, so vague, and so little consistent, that not even
+the name of the victim was known, while those who showed the greatest interest forgot
+it quickly, trusting that the affair had been settled in some way with the wronged
+family. The only one who knew anything certain was Padre Camorra, who had to leave
+the town, to be transferred to another or to remain for some time in the convento
+in Manila.
+</p>
+<p>“Poor Padre Camorra!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb in a fit of generosity. “He was so jolly
+and had such a good heart!”
+</p>
+<p>It was true that the students had recovered their liberty, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4655">[<a href="#xd32e4655">300</a>]</span>thanks to the exertions of their relatives, who did not hesitate at expense, gifts,
+or any sacrifice whatsoever. The first to see himself free, as was to be expected,
+was Makaraig, and the last Isagani, because Padre Florentine did not reach Manila
+until a week after the events. So many acts of clemency secured for the General the
+title of clement and merciful, which Ben-Zayb hastened to add to his long list of
+adjectives.
+</p>
+<p>The only one who did not obtain his liberty was Basilio, since he was also accused
+of having in his possession prohibited books. We don’t know whether this referred
+to his text-book on legal medicine or to the pamphlets that were found, dealing with
+the Philippines, or both together—the fact is that it was said that prohibited literature
+was being secretly sold, and upon the unfortunate boy fell all the weight of the rod
+of justice.
+</p>
+<p>It was reported that his Excellency had been thus advised: “It’s necessary that there
+be some one, so that the prestige of authority may be sustained and that it may not
+be said that we made a great fuss over nothing. Authority before everything. It’s
+necessary that some one be made an example of. Let there be just one, one who, according
+to Padre Irene, was the servant of Capitan Tiago—there’ll be no one to enter a complaint—”
+</p>
+<p>“Servant and student?” asked his Excellency. “That fellow, then! Let it be he!”
+</p>
+<p>“Your Excellency will pardon me,” observed the high official, who happened to be present,
+“but I’ve been told that this boy is a medical student and his teachers speak well
+of him. If he remains a prisoner he’ll lose a year, and as this year he finishes—”
+</p>
+<p>The high official’s interference in behalf of Basilio, instead of helping, harmed
+him. For some time there had been between this official and his Excellency strained
+relations and bad feelings, augmented by frequent clashes.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes? So much the greater reason that he should be kept prisoner; a year longer in
+his studies, instead of injuring <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4665">[<a href="#xd32e4665">301</a>]</span>him, will do good, not only to himself but to all who afterwards fall into his hands.
+One doesn’t become a bad physician by extensive practise. So much the more reason
+that he should remain! Soon the filibustering reformers will say that we are not looking
+out for the country!” concluded his Excellency with a sarcastic laugh.
+</p>
+<p>The high official realized that he had made a false move and took Basilio’s case to
+heart. “But it seems to me that this young man is the most innocent of all,” he rejoined
+rather timidly.
+</p>
+<p>“Books have been seized in his possession,” observed the secretary.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, works on medicine and pamphlets written by Peninsulars, with the leaves uncut,
+and besides, what does that signify? Moreover, this young man was not present at the
+banquet in the <i>pansitería</i>, he hasn’t mixed up in anything. As I’ve said, he’s the most innocent—”
+</p>
+<p>“So much the better!” exclaimed his Excellency jocosely. “In that way the punishment
+will prove more salutary and exemplary, since it inspires greater terror. To govern
+is to act in this way, my dear sir, as it is often expedient to sacrifice the welfare
+of one to the welfare of many. But I’m doing more—from the welfare of one will result
+the welfare of all, the principle of endangered authority is preserved, prestige is
+respected and maintained. By this act of mine I’m correcting my own and other people’s
+faults.”
+</p>
+<p>The high official restrained himself with an effort and, disregarding the allusion,
+decided to take another tack. “But doesn’t your Excellency fear the—responsibility?”
+</p>
+<p>“What have I to fear?” rejoined the General impatiently. “Haven’t I discretionary
+powers? Can’t I do what I please for the better government of these islands? What
+have I to fear? Can some menial perhaps arraign me before the tribunals and exact
+from me responsibility? Even though he had the means, he would have to consult the
+Ministry first, and the Minister—”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4677">[<a href="#xd32e4677">302</a>]</span></p>
+<p>He waved his hand and burst out into laughter.
+</p>
+<p>“The Minister who appointed me, the devil knows where he is, and he will feel honored
+in being able to welcome me when I return. The present one, I don’t even think of
+him, and the devil take him too! The one that relieves him will find himself in so
+many difficulties with his new duties that he won’t be able to fool with trifles.
+I, my dear sir, have nothing over me but my conscience, I act according to my conscience,
+and my conscience is satisfied, so I don’t care a straw for the opinions of this one
+and that. My conscience, my dear sir, my conscience!”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, General, but the country—”
+</p>
+<p>“Tut, tut, tut, tut! The country—what have I to do Avith the country? Have I perhaps
+contracted any obligations to it? Do I owe my office to it? Was it the country that
+elected me?”
+</p>
+<p>A brief pause ensued, during which the high official stood with bowed head. Then,
+as if reaching a decision, he raised it to stare fixedly at the General. Pale and
+trembling, he said with repressed energy: “That doesn’t matter, General, that doesn’t
+matter at all! Your Excellency has not been chosen by the Filipino people, but by
+Spain, all the more reason why you should treat the Filipinos well so that they may
+not be able to reproach Spain. The greater reason, General, the greater reason! Your
+Excellency, by coming here, has contracted the obligation to govern justly, to seek
+the welfare—”
+</p>
+<p>“Am I not doing it?” interrupted his Excellency in exasperation, taking a step forward.
+“Haven’t I told you that I am getting from the good of one the good of all? Are you
+now going to give me lessons? If you don’t understand my actions, how am I to blame?
+Do I compel you to share my responsibility?”
+</p>
+<p>“Certainly not,” replied the high official, drawing himself up proudly. “Your Excellency
+does not compel me, your Excellency cannot compel me, <i>me,</i> to share <i>your</i> responsibility. I understand mine in quite another way, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4691">[<a href="#xd32e4691">303</a>]</span>and because I have it, I’m going to speak—I’ve held my peace a long time. Oh, your
+Excellency needn’t make those gestures, because the fact that I’ve come here in this
+or that capacity doesn’t mean that I have given up my rights, that I have been reduced
+to the part of a slave, without voice or dignity.
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t want Spain to lose this beautiful empire, these eight millions of patient
+and submissive subjects, who live on hopes and delusions, but neither do I wish to
+soil my hands in their barbarous exploitation. I don’t wish it ever to be said that,
+the slave-trade abolished, Spain has continued to cloak it with her banner and perfect
+it under a wealth of specious institutions. No, to be great Spain does not have to
+be a tyrant, Spain is sufficient unto herself, Spain was greater when she had only
+her own territory, wrested from the clutches of the Moor. I too am a Spaniard, but
+before being a Spaniard I am a man, and before Spain and above Spain is her honor,
+the lofty principles of morality, the eternal principles of immutable justice! Ah,
+you are surprised that I think thus, because you have no idea of the grandeur of the
+Spanish name, no, you haven’t any idea of it, you identify it with persons and interests.
+To you the Spaniard may be a pirate, he may be a murderer, a hypocrite, a cheat, anything,
+just so he keep what he has—but to me the Spaniard should lose everything, empire,
+power, wealth, everything, before his honor! Ah, my dear sir, we protest when we read
+that might is placed before right, yet we applaud when in practise we see might play
+the hypocrite in not only perverting right but even in using it as a tool in order
+to gain control. For the very reason that I love Spain, I’m speaking now, and I defy
+your frown!
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t wish that the coming ages accuse Spain of being the stepmother of the nations,
+the vampire of races, the tyrant of small islands, since it would be a horrible mockery
+of the noble principles of our ancient kings. How are we carrying out their sacred
+legacy? They promised to these <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4696">[<a href="#xd32e4696">304</a>]</span>islands protection and justice, and we are playing with the lives and liberties of
+the inhabitants; they promised civilization, and we are curtailing it, fearful that
+they may aspire to a nobler existence; they promised them light, and we cover their
+eyes that they may not witness our orgies; they promised to teach them virtue and
+we are encouraging their vice. Instead of peace, wealth, and justice, confusion reigns,
+commerce languishes, and skepticism is fostered among the masses.
+</p>
+<p>“Let us put ourselves in the place of the Filipinos and ask ourselves what we would
+do in their place. Ah, in your silence I read their right to rebel, and if matters
+do not mend they will rebel some day, and justice will be on their side, with them
+will go the sympathy of all honest men, of every patriot in the world! When a people
+is denied light, home, liberty, and justice—things that are essential to life, and
+therefore man’s patrimony—that people has the right to treat him who so despoils it
+as we would the robber who intercepts us on the highway. There are no distinctions,
+there are no exceptions, nothing but a fact, a right, an aggression, and every honest
+man who does not place himself on the side of the wronged makes himself an accomplice
+and stains his conscience.
+</p>
+<p>“True, I am not a soldier, and the years are cooling the little fire in my blood,
+but just as I would risk being torn to pieces to defend the integrity of Spain against
+any foreign invader or against an unjustified disloyalty in her provinces, so I also
+assure you that I would place myself beside the oppressed Filipinos, because I would
+prefer to fall in the cause of the outraged rights of humanity to triumphing with
+the selfish interests of a nation, even when that nation be called as it is called—Spain!”
+</p>
+<p>“Do you know when the mail-boat leaves?” inquired his Excellency coldly, when the
+high official had finished speaking.
+</p>
+<p>The latter stared at him fixedly, then dropped his head and silently left the palace.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4703">[<a href="#xd32e4703">305</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Outside he found his carriage awaiting him. “Some day when you declare yourselves
+independent,” he said somewhat abstractedly to the native lackey who opened the carriage-door
+for him, “remember that there were not lacking in Spain hearts that beat for you and
+struggled for your rights!”
+</p>
+<p>“Where, sir?” asked the lackey, who had understood nothing of this and was inquiring
+whither they should go.
+</p>
+<p>Two hours later the high official handed in his resignation and announced his intention
+of returning to Spain by the next mail-steamer.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4709">[<a href="#xd32e4709">306</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4649">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4649src">1</a></span> “Hawk-Eye.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4649src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch32" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e525">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Effect of the Pasquinades</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">As a result of the events narrated, many mothers ordered their sons immediately to
+leave off their studies and devote themselves to idleness or to agriculture. When
+the examinations came, suspensions were plentiful, and he was a rare exception who
+finished the course, if he had belonged to the famous association, to which no one
+paid any more attention. Pecson, Tadeo, and Juanito Pelaez were all alike suspended—the
+first receiving his dismissal with his foolish grin and declaring his intention of
+becoming an officer in some court, while Tadeo, with his eternal holiday realized
+at last, paid for an illumination and made a bonfire of his books. Nor did the others
+get off much better, and at length they too had to abandon their studies, to the great
+satisfaction of their mothers, who always fancy their sons hanged if they should come
+to understand what the books teach. Juanito Pelaez alone took the blow ill, since
+it forced him to leave school for his father’s store, with whom he was thenceforward
+to be associated in the business: the rascal found the store much less entertaining,
+but after some time his friends again noticed his hump appear, a symptom that his
+good humor was returning. The rich Makaraig, in view of the catastrophe, took good
+care not to expose himself, and having secured a passport by means of money set out
+in haste for Europe. It was said that his Excellency, the Captain-General, in his
+desire to do good by good means, and careful of the interests of the Filipinos, hindered
+the departure of every one who could not first prove substantially that he had the
+money to spend and could live in idleness in European cities. Among our <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4716">[<a href="#xd32e4716">307</a>]</span>acquaintances those who got off best were Isagani and Sandoval: the former passed
+in the subject he studied under Padre Fernandez and was suspended in the others, while
+the latter was able to confuse the examining-board with his oratory.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio was the only one who did not pass in any subject, who was not suspended, and
+who did not go to Europe, for he remained in Bilibid prison, subjected every three
+days to examinations, almost always the same in principle, without other variation
+than a change of inquisitors, since it seemed that in the presence of such great guilt
+all gave up or fell away in horror. And while the documents moldered or were shifted
+about, while the stamped papers increased like the plasters of an ignorant physician
+on the body of a hypochondriac, Basilio became informed of all the details of what
+had happened in Tiani, of the death of Juli and the disappearance of Tandang Selo.
+Sinong, the abused cochero, who had driven him to San Diego, happened to be in Manila
+at that time and called to give him all the news.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Simoun had recovered his health, or so at least the newspapers said. Ben-Zayb
+rendered thanks to “the Omnipotent who watches over such a precious life,” and manifested
+the hope that the Highest would some day reveal the malefactor, whose crime remained
+unpunished, thanks to the charity of the victim, who was too closely following the
+words of the Great Martyr: <i>Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.</i> These and other things Ben-Zayb said in print, while by mouth he was inquiring whether
+there was any truth in the rumor that the opulent jeweler was going to give a grand
+fiesta, a banquet such as had never before been seen, in part to celebrate his recovery
+and in part as a farewell to the country in which he had increased his fortune. It
+was whispered as certain that Simoun, who would have to leave with the Captain-General,
+whose command expired in May, was making every effort to secure from Madrid an extension,
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4723">[<a href="#xd32e4723">308</a>]</span>and that he was advising his Excellency to start a campaign in order to have an excuse
+for remaining, but it was further reported that for the first time his Excellency
+had disregarded the advice of his favorite, making it a point of honor not to retain
+for a single additional day the power that had been conferred upon him, a rumor which
+encouraged belief that the fiesta announced would take place; very soon. For the rest,
+Simoun remained unfathomable, since he had become very uncommunicative, showed himself
+seldom, and smiled mysteriously when the rumored fiesta was mentioned.
+</p>
+<p>“Come, Señor Sindbad,” Ben-Zayb had once rallied him, “dazzle us with something Yankee!
+You owe something to this country.”
+</p>
+<p>“Doubtless!” was Simoun’s response, with a dry smile.
+</p>
+<p>“You’ll throw the house wide open, eh?”
+</p>
+<p>“Maybe, but as I have no house—”
+</p>
+<p>“You ought to have secured Capitan Tiago’s, which Señor Pelaez got for nothing.”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun became silent, and from that time on he was often seen in the store of Don
+Timoteo Pelaez, with whom it was said he had entered into partnership. Some weeks
+afterward, in the month of April, it was rumored that Juanito Pelaez, Don Timoteo’s
+son, was going to marry Paulita Gomez, the girl coveted by Spaniards and foreigners.
+</p>
+<p>“Some men are lucky!” exclaimed other envious merchants. “To buy a house for nothing,
+sell his consignment of galvanized iron well, get into partnership with a Simoun,
+and marry his son to a rich heiress—just say if those aren’t strokes of luck that
+all honorable men don’t have!”
+</p>
+<p>“If you only knew whence came that luck of Señor Pelaez’s!” another responded, in
+a tone which indicated that the speaker did know. “It’s also assured that there’ll
+be a fiesta and on a grand scale,” was added with mystery.
+</p>
+<p>It was really true that Paulita was going to marry <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4736">[<a href="#xd32e4736">309</a>]</span>Juanito Pelaez. Her love for Isagani had gradually waned, like all first loves based
+on poetry and sentiment. The events of the pasquinades and the imprisonment of the
+youth had shorn him of all his charms. To whom would it have occurred to seek danger,
+to desire to share the fate of his comrades, to surrender himself, when every one
+was hiding and denying any complicity in the affair? It was quixotic, it was madness
+that no sensible person in Manila could pardon, and Juanito was quite right in ridiculing
+him, representing what a sorry figure he cut when he went to the Civil Government.
+Naturally, the brilliant Paulita could no longer love a young man who so erroneously
+understood social matters and whom all condemned. Then she began to reflect. Juanito
+was clever, capable, gay, shrewd, the son of a rich merchant of Manila, and a Spanish
+mestizo besides—if Don Timoteo was to be believed, a full-blooded Spaniard. On the
+other hand, Isagani was a provincial native who dreamed of forests infested with leeches,
+he was of doubtful family, with a priest for an uncle, who would perhaps be an enemy
+to luxury and balls, of which she was very fond. One beautiful morning therefore it
+occurred to her that she had been a downright fool to prefer him to his rival, and
+from that time on Pelaez’s hump steadily increased. Unconsciously, yet rigorously,
+Paulita was obeying the law discovered by Darwin, that the female surrenders herself
+to the fittest male, to him who knows how to adapt himself to the medium in which
+he lives, and to live in Manila there was no other like Pelaez, who from his infancy
+had had chicanery at his finger-tips. Lent passed with its Holy Week, its array of
+processions and pompous displays, without other novelty than a mysterious mutiny among
+the artillerymen, the cause of which was never disclosed. The houses of light materials
+were torn down in the presence of a troop of cavalry, ready to fall upon the owners
+in case they should offer resistance. There was a great deal of weeping and many lamentations,
+but the affair did not get beyond that. The curious, among <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4738">[<a href="#xd32e4738">310</a>]</span>them Simoun, went to see those who were left homeless, walking about indifferently
+and assuring each other that thenceforward they could sleep in peace.
+</p>
+<p>Towards the end of April, all the fears being now forgotten, Manila was engrossed
+with one topic: the fiesta that Don Timoteo Pelaez was going to celebrate at the wedding
+of his son, for which the General had graciously and condescendingly agreed to be
+the patron. Simoun was reported to have arranged the matter. The ceremony would be
+solemnized two days before the departure of the General, who would honor the house
+and make a present to the bridegroom. It was whispered that the jeweler would pour
+out cascades of diamonds and throw away handfuls of pearls in honor of his partner’s
+son, thus, since he could hold no fiesta of his own, as he was a bachelor and had
+no house, improving the opportunity to dazzle the Filipino people with a memorable
+farewell. All Manila prepared to be invited, and never did uneasiness take stronger
+hold of the mind than in view of the thought of not being among those bidden. Friendship
+with Simoun became a matter of dispute, and many husbands were forced by their wives
+to purchase bars of steel and sheets of galvanized iron in order to make friends with
+Don Timoteo Pelaez.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4742">[<a href="#xd32e4742">311</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch33" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e536">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">La Ultima Razón<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4748src" href="#xd32e4748">1</a></h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">At last the great day arrived. During the morning Simoun had not left his house, busied
+as he was in packing his arms and his jewels. His fabulous wealth was already locked
+up in the big steel chest with its canvas cover, there remaining only a few cases
+containing bracelets and pins, doubtless gifts that he meant to make. He was going
+to leave with the Captain-General, who cared in no way to lengthen his stay, fearful
+of what people would say. Malicious ones insinuated that Simoun did not dare remain
+alone, since without the General’s support he did not care to expose himself to the
+vengeance of the many wretches he had exploited, all the more reason for which was
+the fact that the General who was coming was reported to be a model of rectitude and
+might make him disgorge his gains. The superstitious Indians, on the other hand, believed
+that Simoun was the devil who did not wish to separate himself from his prey. The
+pessimists winked maliciously and said, “The field laid waste, the locust leaves for
+other parts!” Only a few, a very few, smiled and said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>In the afternoon Simoun had given orders to his servant that if there appeared a young
+man calling himself Basilio he should be admitted at once. Then he shut himself up
+in his room and seemed to become lost in deep thought. Since his illness the jeweler’s
+countenance had become harder and gloomier, while the wrinkles between his eyebrows
+had <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4753">[<a href="#xd32e4753">312</a>]</span>deepened greatly. He did not hold himself so erect as formerly, and his head was bowed.
+</p>
+<p>So absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not hear a knock at the door, and
+it had to be repeated. He shuddered and called out, “Come in!”
+</p>
+<p>It was Basilio, but how altered! If the change that had taken place in Simoun during
+those two months was great, in the young student it was frightful. His cheeks were
+hollow, his hair unkempt, his clothing disordered. The tender melancholy had disappeared
+from his eyes, and in its place glittered a dark light, so that it might be said that
+he had died and his corpse had revived, horrified with what it had seen in eternity.
+If not crime, then the shadow of crime, had fixed itself upon his whole appearance.
+Simoun himself was startled and felt pity for the wretch.
+</p>
+<p>Without any greeting Basilio slowly advanced into the room, and in a voice that made
+the jeweler shudder said to him, “Señor Simoun, I’ve been a wicked son and a bad brother—I’ve
+overlooked the murder of one and the tortures of the other, and God has chastised
+me! Now there remains to me only one desire, and it is to return evil for evil, crime
+for crime, violence for violence!”
+</p>
+<p>Simoun listened in silence, while Basilio continued; “Four months ago you talked to
+me about your plans. I refused to take part in them, but I did wrong, you have been
+right. Three months and a half ago the revolution was on the point of breaking out,
+but I did not then care to participate in it, and the movement failed. In payment
+for my conduct I’ve been arrested and owe my liberty to your efforts only. You are
+right and now I’ve come to say to you: put a weapon in my hand and let the revolution
+come! I am ready to serve you, along with all the rest of the unfortunates.”
+</p>
+<p>The cloud that had darkened Simoun’s brow suddenly disappeared, a ray of triumph darted
+from his eyes, and like one who has found what he sought he exclaimed: “I’m right,
+yes, I’m right! Right and Justice are on my side, because <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4761">[<a href="#xd32e4761">313</a>]</span>my cause is that of the persecuted. Thanks, young man, thanks! You’ve come to clear
+away my doubts, to end my hesitation.”
+</p>
+<p>He had risen and his face was beaming. The zeal that had animated him when four months
+before he had explained his plans to Basilio in the wood of his ancestors reappeared
+in his countenance like a red sunset after a cloudy day.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” he resumed, “the movement failed and many have deserted me because they saw
+me disheartened and wavering at the supreme moment. I still cherished something in
+my heart, I was not the master of all my feelings, I still loved! Now everything is
+dead in me, no longer is there even a corpse sacred enough for me to respect its sleep.
+No longer will there be any vacillation, for you yourself, an idealistic youth, a
+gentle dove, understand the necessity and come to spur me to action. Somewhat late
+you have opened your eyes, for between you and me together we might have executed
+marvelous plans, I above in the higher circles spreading death amid perfume and gold,
+brutalizing the vicious and corrupting or paralyzing the few good, and you below among
+the people, among the young men, stirring them to life amid blood and tears. Our task,
+instead of being bloody and barbarous, would have been holy, perfect, artistic, and
+surely success would have crowned our efforts. But no intelligence would support me,
+I encountered fear or effeminacy among the enlightened classes, selfishness among
+the rich, simplicity among the youth, and only in the mountains, in the waste places,
+among the outcasts, have I found my men. But no matter now! If we can’t get a finished
+statue, rounded out in all its details, of the rough block we work upon let those
+to come take charge!”
+</p>
+<p>Seizing the arm of Basilio, who was listening without comprehending all he said, he
+led him to the laboratory where he kept his chemical mixtures. Upon the table was
+placed a large case made of dark shagreen, similar to those <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4768">[<a href="#xd32e4768">314</a>]</span>that hold the silver plate exchanged as gifts among the rich and powerful. Opening
+this, Simoun revealed to sight, upon a bottom of red satin, a lamp of very peculiar
+shape, Its body was in the form of a pomegranate as large as a man’s head, with fissures
+in it exposing to view the seeds inside, which were fashioned of enormous carnelians.
+The covering was of oxidized gold in exact imitation of the wrinkles on the fruit.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun took it out with great care and, removing the burner, exposed to view the interior
+of the tank, which was lined with steel two centimeters in thickness and which had
+a capacity of over a liter. Basilio questioned him with his eyes, for as yet he comprehended
+nothing. Without entering upon explanations, Simoun carefully took from a cabinet
+a flask and showed the young man the formula written upon it.
+</p>
+<p>“Nitro-glycerin!” murmured Basilio, stepping backward and instinctively thrusting
+his hands behind him. “Nitro-glycerin! Dynamite!” Beginning now to understand, he
+felt his hair stand on end.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, nitro-glycerin!” repeated Simoun slowly, with his cold smile and a look of delight
+at the glass flask. “It’s also something more than nitro-glycerin—it’s concentrated
+tears, repressed hatred, wrongs, injustice, outrage. It’s the last resort of the weak,
+force against force, violence against violence. A moment ago I was hesitating, but
+you have come and decided me. This night the most dangerous tyrants will be blown
+to pieces, the irresponsible rulers that hide themselves behind God and the State,
+whose abuses remain unpunished because no one can bring them to justice. This night
+the Philippines will hear the explosion that will convert into rubbish the formless
+monument whose decay I have fostered.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio was so terrified that his lips worked without producing any sound, his tongue
+was paralyzed, his throat parched. For the first time he was looking at the powerful
+liquid which he had heard talked of as a thing distilled <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4775">[<a href="#xd32e4775">315</a>]</span>in gloom by gloomy men, in open war against society. Now he had it before him, transparent
+and slightly yellowish, poured with great caution into the artistic pomegranate. Simoun
+looked to him like the jinnee of the <i>Arabian Nights</i> that sprang from the sea, he took on gigantic proportions, his head touched the sky,
+he made the house tremble and shook the whole city with a shrug of his shoulders.
+The pomegranate assumed the form of a colossal sphere, the fissures became hellish
+grins whence escaped names and glowing cinders. For the first time in his life Basilio
+was overcome with fright and completely lost his composure.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun, meanwhile, screwed on solidly a curious and complicated mechanism, put in
+place a glass chimney, then the bomb, and crowned the whole with an elegant shade.
+Then he moved away some distance to contemplate the effect, inclining his head now
+to one side, now to the other, thus better to appreciate its magnificent appearance.
+</p>
+<p>Noticing that Basilio was watching him with questioning and suspicious eyes, he said,
+“Tonight there will be a fiesta and this lamp will be placed in a little dining-kiosk
+that I’ve had constructed for the purpose. The lamp will give a brilliant light, bright
+enough to suffice for the illumination of the whole place by itself, but at the end
+of twenty minutes the light will fade, and then when some one tries to turn up the
+wick a cap of fulminate of mercury will explode, the pomegranate will blow up and
+with it the dining-room, in the roof and floor of which I have concealed sacks of
+powder, so that no one shall escape.”
+</p>
+<p>There wras a moment’s silence, while Simoun stared at his mechanism and Basilio scarcely
+breathed.
+</p>
+<p>“So my assistance is not needed,” observed the young man.
+</p>
+<p>“No, you have another mission to fulfill,” replied Simoun thoughtfully. “At nine the
+mechanism will have exploded and the report will have been heard in the country round,
+in the mountains, in the caves. The uprising that I had arranged with the artillerymen
+was a failure from lack <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4785">[<a href="#xd32e4785">316</a>]</span>of plan and timeliness, but this time it won’t be so. Upon hearing the explosion,
+the wretched and the oppressed, those who wander about pursued by force, will sally
+forth armed to join Cabesang Tales in Santa Mesa, whence they will fall upon the city,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4787src" href="#xd32e4787">2</a> while the soldiers, whom I have made to believe that the General is shamming an insurrection
+in order to remain, will issue from their barracks ready to fire upon whomsoever I
+may designate. Meanwhile, the cowed populace, thinking that the hour of massacre has
+come, will rush out prepared to kill or be killed, and as they have neither arms nor
+organization, you with some others will put yourself at their head and direct them
+to the warehouses of Quiroga, where I keep my rifles. Cabesang Tales and I will join
+one another in the city and take possession of it, while you in the suburbs will seize
+the bridges and throw up barricades, and then be ready to come to our aid to butcher
+not only those opposing the revolution but also every man who refuses to take up arms
+and join us.”
+</p>
+<p>“All?” stammered Basilio in a choking voice.
+</p>
+<p>“All!” repeated Simoun in a sinister tone. “All—Indians, mestizos, Chinese, Spaniards,
+all who are found to be without courage, without energy. The race must be renewed!
+Cowardly fathers will only breed slavish sons, and it wouldn’t be worth while to destroy
+and then try to rebuild with rotten materials. What, do you shudder? Do you tremble,
+do you fear to scatter death? What is death? What does a hecatomb of twenty thousand
+wretches signify? Twenty thousand miseries less, and millions of wretches saved from
+birth! The most timid ruler does not <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4798">[<a href="#xd32e4798">317</a>]</span>hesitate to dictate a law that produces misery and lingering death for thousands and
+thousands of prosperous and industrious subjects, happy perchance, merely to satisfy
+a caprice, a whim, his pride, and yet you shudder because in one night are to be ended
+forever the mental tortures of many helots, because a vitiated and paralytic people
+has to die to give place to another, young, active, full of energy!
+</p>
+<p>“What is death? Nothingness, or a dream? Can its specters be compared to the reality
+of the agonies of a whole miserable generation? The needful thing is to destroy the
+evil, to kill the dragon and bathe the new people in the blood, in order to make it
+strong and invulnerable. What else is the inexorable law of Nature, the law of strife
+in which the weak has to succumb so that the vitiated species be not perpetuated and
+creation thus travel backwards? Away then with effeminate scruples! Fulfill the eternal
+laws, foster them, and then the earth will be so much the more fecund the more it
+is fertilized with blood, and the thrones the more solid the more they rest upon crimes
+and corpses. Let there be no hesitation, no doubtings! What is the pain of death?
+A momentary sensation, perhaps confused, perhaps agreeable, like the transition from
+waking to sleep. What is it that is being destroyed? Evil, suffering—feeble weeds,
+in order to set in their place luxuriant plants. Do you call that destruction? I should
+call it creating, producing, nourishing, vivifying!”
+</p>
+<p>Such bloody sophisms, uttered with conviction and coolness, overwhelmed the youth,
+weakened as he was by more than three months in prison and blinded by his passion
+for revenge, so he was not in a mood to analyze the moral basis of the matter. Instead
+of replying that the worst and cowardliest of men is always something more than a
+plant, because he has a soul and an intelligence, which, however vitiated and brutalized
+they may be, can be redeemed; instead of replying that man has no right to dispose
+of one life for the benefit of another, that the right to life is inherent in every
+individual like the right to liberty and to <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4803">[<a href="#xd32e4803">318</a>]</span>light; instead of replying that if it is an abuse on the part of governments to punish
+in a culprit the faults and crimes to which they have driven him by their own negligence
+or stupidity, how much more so would it be in a man, however great and however unfortunate
+he might be, to punish in a wretched people the faults of its governments and its
+ancestors; instead of declaring that God alone can use such methods, that God can
+destroy because He can create, God who holds in His hands recompense, eternity, and
+the future, to justify His acts, and man never; instead of these reflections, Basilio
+merely interposed a cant reflection.
+</p>
+<p>“What will the world say at the sight of such butchery?”
+</p>
+<p>“The world will applaud, as usual, conceding the right of the strongest, the most
+violent!” replied Simoun with his cruel smile. “Europe applauded when the western
+nations sacrificed millions of Indians in America, and not by any means to found nations
+much more moral or more pacific: there is the North with its egotistic liberty, its
+lynch-law, its political frauds—the South with its turbulent republics, its barbarous
+revolutions, civil wars, pronunciamientos, as in its mother Spain! Europe applauded
+when the powerful Portugal despoiled the Moluccas, it applauds while England is destroying
+the primitive races in the Pacific to make room for its emigrants. Europe will applaud
+as the end of a drama, the close of a tragedy, is applauded, for the vulgar do not
+fix their attention on principles, they look only at results. Commit the crime well,
+and you will be admired and have more partizans than if you had carried out virtuous
+actions with modesty and timidity.”
+</p>
+<p>“Exactly,” rejoined the youth, “what does it matter to me, after all, whether they
+praise or censure, when this world takes no care of the oppressed, of the poor, and
+of weak womankind? What obligations have I to recognize toward society when it has
+recognized none toward me?”
+</p>
+<p>“That’s what I like to hear,” declared the tempter triumphantly. <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4810">[<a href="#xd32e4810">319</a>]</span>He took a revolver from a case and gave it to Basilio, saying, “At ten o’clock wait
+for me in front of the church of St. Sebastian to receive my final instructions. Ah,
+at nine you must be far, very far from Calle Anloague.”
+</p>
+<p>Basilio examined the weapon, loaded it, and placed it in the inside pocket of his
+coat, then took his leave with a curt, “I’ll see you later.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4814">[<a href="#xd32e4814">320</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4748">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4748src">1</a></span> Ultima Razón de Reyes: the last argument of kings—force. (Expression attributed to
+Calderon de la Barca, the great Spanish dramatist.)—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4748src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4787">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4787src">2</a></span> Curiously enough, and by what must have been more than a mere coincidence, this route
+through Santa Mesa from San Juan del Monte was the one taken by an armed party in
+their attempt to enter the city at the outbreak of the Katipunan rebellion on the
+morning of August 30, 1896. (Foreman’s <i>The Philippine Islands</i>, Chap. XXVI.)
+</p>
+<p class="footnote cont">It was also on the bridge connecting these two places that the first shot in the insurrection
+against American sovereignty was fired on the night of February 4, 1899.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4787src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch34" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e546">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Wedding</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Once in the street, Basilio began to consider how he might spend the time until the
+fatal hour arrived, for it was then not later than seven o’clock. It was the vacation
+period and all the students were back in their towns, Isagani being the only one who
+had not cared to leave, but he had disappeared that morning and no one knew his whereabouts—so
+Basilio had been informed when after leaving the prison he had gone to visit his friend
+and ask him for lodging. The young man did not know where to go, for he had no money,
+nothing but the revolver. The memory of the lamp filled his imagination, the great
+catastrophe that would occur within two hours. Pondering over this, he seemed to see
+the men who passed before his eyes walking without heads, and he felt a thrill of
+ferocious joy in telling himself that, hungry and destitute, he that night was going
+to be dreaded, that from a poor student and servant, perhaps the sun would see him
+transformed into some one terrible and sinister, standing upon pyramids of corpses,
+dictating laws to all those who were passing before his gaze now in magnificent carriages.
+He laughed like one condemned to death and patted the butt of the revolver. The boxes
+of cartridges were also in his pockets.
+</p>
+<p>A question suddenly occurred to him—where would the drama begin? In his bewilderment
+he had not thought of asking Simoun, but the latter had warned him to keep away from
+Calle Anloague. Then came a suspicion: that afternoon, upon leaving the prison, he
+had proceeded to the former house of Capitan Tiago to get his few personal effects
+and had found it transformed, prepared for a fiesta<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4823">[<a href="#xd32e4823">321</a>]</span>—the wedding of Juanito Pelaez! Simoun had spoken of a fiesta.
+</p>
+<p>At this moment he noticed passing in front of him a long line of carriages filled
+with ladies and gentlemen, conversing in a lively manner, and he even thought he could
+make out big bouquets of flowers, but he gave the detail no thought. The carriages
+were going toward Calle Rosario and in meeting those that came down off the Bridge
+of Spain had to move along slowly and stop frequently. In one he saw Juanito Pelaez
+at the side of a woman dressed in white with a transparent veil, in whom he recognized
+Paulita Gomez.
+</p>
+<p>“Paulita!” he ejaculated in surprise, realizing that it was indeed she, in a bridal
+gown, along with Juanito Pelaez, as though they were just coming from the church.
+“Poor Isagani!” he murmured, “what can have become of him?”
+</p>
+<p>He thought for a while about his friend, a great and generous soul, and mentally asked
+himself if it would not be well to tell him about the plan, then answered himself
+that Isagani would never take part in such a butchery. They had not treated Isagani
+as they had him.
+</p>
+<p>Then he thought that had there been no imprisonment, he would have been betrothed,
+or a husband, at this time, a licentiate in medicine, living and working in some corner
+of his province. The ghost of Juli, crushed in her fall, crossed his mind, and dark
+flames of hatred lighted his eyes; again he caressed the butt of the revolver, regretting
+that the terrible hour had not yet come. Just then he saw Simoun come out of the door
+of his house, carrying in his hands the case containing the lamp, carefully wrapped
+up, and enter a carriage, which then followed those bearing the bridal party. In order
+not to lose track of Simoun, Basilio took a good look at the cochero and with astonishment
+recognized in him the wretch who had driven him to San Diego, Sinong, the fellow maltreated
+by the Civil Guard, the same who had come to the prison to tell him about the occurrences
+in Tiani.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4830">[<a href="#xd32e4830">322</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Conjecturing that Calle Anloague was to be the scene of action, thither the youth
+directed his steps, hurrying forward and getting ahead of the carriages, which were,
+in fact, all moving toward the former house of Capitan Tiago—there they were assembling
+in search of a ball, but actually to dance in the air! Basilio smiled when he noticed
+the pairs of civil-guards who formed the escort, and from their number he could guess
+the importance of the fiesta and the guests. The house overflowed with people and
+poured floods of light from its windows, the entrance was carpeted and strewn with
+flowers. Upstairs there, perhaps in his former solitary room, an orchestra was playing
+lively airs, which did not completely drown the confused tumult of talk and laughter.
+</p>
+<p>Don Timoteo Pelaez was reaching the pinnacle of fortune, and the reality surpassed
+his dreams. He was, at last, marrying his son to the rich Gomez heiress, and, thanks
+to the money Simoun had lent him, he had royally furnished that big house, purchased
+for half its value, and was giving in it a splendid fiesta, with the foremost divinities
+of the Manila Olympus for his guests, to gild him with the light of their prestige.
+Since that morning there had been recurring to him, with the persistence of a popular
+song, some vague phrases that he had read in the communion service. “Now has the fortunate
+hour come! Now draws nigh the happy moment! Soon there will be fulfilled in you the
+admirable words of Simoun—‘I live, and yet not I alone, but the Captain-General liveth
+in me.’ ” The Captain-General the patron of his son! True, he had not attended the
+ceremony, where Don Custodio had represented him, but he would come to dine, he would
+bring a wedding-gift, a lamp which not even Aladdin’s—between you and me, Simoun was
+presenting the lamp. Timoteo, what more could you desire?
+</p>
+<p>The transformation that Capitan Tiago’s house had undergone was considerable—it had
+been richly repapered, while the smoke and the smell of opium had been completely
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4835">[<a href="#xd32e4835">323</a>]</span>eradicated. The immense sala, widened still more by the colossal mirrors that infinitely
+multiplied the lights of the chandeliers, was carpeted throughout, for the salons
+of Europe had carpets, and even though the floor was of wide boards brilliantly polished,
+a carpet it must have too, since nothing should be lacking. The rich furniture of
+Capitan Tiago had disappeared and in its place was to be seen another kind, in the
+style of Louis&nbsp;XV. Heavy curtains of red velvet, trimmed with gold, with the initials
+of the bridal couple worked on them, and upheld by garlands of artificial orange-blossoms,
+hung as portières and swept the floor with their wide fringes, likewise of gold. In
+the corners appeared enormous Japanese vases, alternating with those of Sèvres of
+a clear dark-blue, placed upon square pedestals of carved wood.
+</p>
+<p>The only decorations not in good taste were the screaming chromos which Don Timoteo
+had substituted for the old drawings and pictures of saints of Capitan Tiago. Simoun
+had been unable to dissuade him, for the merchant did not want oil-paintings—some
+one might ascribe them to Filipino artists! He, a patron of Filipino artists, never!
+On that point depended his peace of mind and perhaps his life, and he knew how to
+get along in the Philippines! It is true that he had heard foreign painters mentioned—Raphael,
+Murillo, Velasquez—but he did not know their addresses, and then they might prove
+to be somewhat seditious. With the chromos he ran no risk, as the Filipinos did not
+make them, they came cheaper, the effect was the same, if not better, the colors brighter
+and the execution very fine. Don’t say that Don Timoteo did not know how to comport
+himself in the Philippines!
+</p>
+<p>The large hallway was decorated with flowers, having been converted into a dining-room,
+with a long table for thirty persons in the center, and around the sides, pushed against
+the walls, other smaller ones for two or three persons each. Bouquets of flowers,
+pyramids of fruits among ribbons and lights, covered their centers. The groom’s place
+was designated <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4841">[<a href="#xd32e4841">324</a>]</span>by a bunch of roses and the bride’s by another of orange-blossoms and tuberoses. In
+the presence of so much finery and flowers one could imagine that nymphs in gauzy
+garments and Cupids with iridescent wings were going to serve nectar and ambrosia
+to aerial guests, to the sound of lyres and Aeolian harps.
+</p>
+<p>But the table for the greater gods was not there, being placed yonder in the middle
+of the wide azotea within a magnificent kiosk constructed especially for the occasion.
+A lattice of gilded wood over which clambered fragrant vines screened the interior
+from the eyes of the vulgar without impeding the free circulation of air to preserve
+the coolness necessary at that season. A raised platform lifted the table above the
+level of the others at which the ordinary mortals were going to dine and an arch decorated
+by the best artists would protect the august heads from the jealous gaze of the stars.
+</p>
+<p>On this table were laid only seven plates. The dishes were of solid silver, the cloth
+and napkins of the finest linen, the wines the most costly and exquisite. Don Timoteo
+had sought the most rare and expensive in everything, nor would he have hesitated
+at crime had he been assured that the Captain-General liked to eat human flesh.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4846">[<a href="#xd32e4846">325</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch35" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e556">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXV</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Fiesta</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="es">“Danzar sobre un volcán.”</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>By seven in the evening the guests had begun to arrive: first, the lesser divinities,
+petty government officials, clerks, and merchants, with the most ceremonious greetings
+and the gravest airs at the start, as if they were parvenus, for so much light, so
+many decorations, and so much glassware had some effect. Afterwards, they began to
+be more at ease, shaking their fists playfully, with pats on the shoulders, and even
+familiar slaps on the back. Some, it is true, adopted a rather disdainful air, to
+let it be seen that they were accustomed to better things—of course they were! There
+was one goddess who yawned, for she found everything vulgar and even remarked that
+she was ravenously hungry, while another quarreled with her god, threatening to box
+his ears.
+</p>
+<p>Don Timoteo bowed here and bowed there, scattered his best smiles, tightened his belt,
+stepped backward, turned halfway round, then completely around, and so on again and
+again, until one goddess could not refrain from remarking to her neighbor, under cover
+of her fan: “My dear, how important the old man is! Doesn’t he look like a jumping-jack?”
+</p>
+<p>Later came the bridal couple, escorted by Doña Victorina and the rest of the party.
+Congratulations, hand-shakings, patronizing pats for the groom: for the bride, insistent
+stares and anatomical observations on the part of the men, with analyses of her gown,
+her toilette, speculations as to her health and strength on the part of the women.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4859">[<a href="#xd32e4859">326</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Cupid and Psyche appearing on Olympus,” thought Ben-Zayb, making a mental note of
+the comparison to spring it at some better opportunity. The groom had in fact the
+mischievous features of the god of love, and with a little good-will his hump, which
+the severity of his frock coat did not altogether conceal, could be taken for a quiver.
+</p>
+<p>Don Timoteo began to feel his belt squeezing him, the corns on his feet began to ache,
+his neck became tired, but still the General had not come. The greater gods, among
+them Padre Irene and Padre Salvi, had already arrived, it was true, but the chief
+thunderer was still lacking. The poor man became uneasy, nervous; his heart beat violently,
+but still he had to bow and smile; he sat down, he arose, failed to hear what was
+said to him, did not say what he meant. In the meantime, an amateur god made remarks
+to him about his chromos, criticizing them with the statement that they spoiled the
+walls.
+</p>
+<p>“Spoil the walls!” repeated Don Timoteo, with a smile and a desire to choke him. “But
+they were made in Europe and are the most costly I could get in Manila! Spoil the
+walls!” Don Timoteo swore to himself that on the very next day he would present for
+payment all the chits that the critic had signed in his store.
+</p>
+<p>Whistles resounded, the galloping of horses was heard—at last! “The General! The Captain-General!”
+</p>
+<p>Pale with emotion, Don Timoteo, dissembling the pain of his corns and accompanied
+by his son and some of the greater gods, descended to receive the Mighty Jove. The
+pain at his belt vanished before the doubts that now assailed him: should he frame
+a smile or affect gravity; should he extend his hand or wait for the General to offer
+his? <i>Carambas!</i> Why had nothing of this occurred to him before, so that he might have consulted his
+good friend Simoun?
+</p>
+<p>To conceal his agitation, he whispered to his son in a low, shaky voice, “Have you
+a speech prepared?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4871">[<a href="#xd32e4871">327</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Speeches are no longer in vogue, papa, especially on such an occasion as this.”
+</p>
+<p>Jupiter arrived in the company of Juno, who was converted into a tower of artificial
+lights—with diamonds in her hair, diamonds around her neck, on her arms, on her shoulders,
+she was literally covered with diamonds. She was arrayed in a magnificent silk gown
+having a long train decorated with embossed flowers.
+</p>
+<p>His Excellency literally took possession of the house, as Don Timoteo stammeringly
+begged him to do.<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4876src" href="#xd32e4876">1</a> The orchestra played the royal march while the divine couple majestically ascended
+the carpeted stairway.
+</p>
+<p>Nor was his Excellency’s gravity altogether affected. Perhaps for the first time since
+his arrival in the islands he felt sad, a strain of melancholy tinged his thoughts.
+This was the last triumph of his three years of government, and within two days he
+would descend forever from such an exalted height. What was he leaving behind? His
+Excellency did not care to turn his head backwards, but preferred to look ahead, to
+gaze into the future. Although he was carrying away a fortune, large sums to his credit
+were awaiting him in European banks, and he had residences, yet he had injured many,
+he had made enemies at the Court, the high official was waiting for him there. Other
+Generals had enriched themselves as rapidly as he, and now they were ruined. Why not
+stay longer, as Simoun had advised him to do? No, good taste before everything else.
+The bows, moreover, were not now so profound as before, he noticed insistent stares
+and even looks of dislike, but still he replied affably and even attempted to smile.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s plain that the sun is setting,” observed Padre Irene in Ben-Zayb’s ear. “Many
+now stare him in the face.”
+</p>
+<p>The devil with the curate—that was just what he was going to remark!
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4883">[<a href="#xd32e4883">328</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“My dear,” murmured into the ear of a neighbor the lady who had referred to Don Timoteo
+as a jumping-jack, “did you ever see such a skirt?”
+</p>
+<p>“Ugh, the curtains from the Palace!”
+</p>
+<p>“You don’t say! But it’s true! They’re carrying everything away. You’ll see how they
+make wraps out of the carpets.”
+</p>
+<p>“That only goes to show that she has talent and taste,” observed her husband, reproving
+her with a look. “Women should be economical.” This poor god was still suffering from
+the dressmaker’s bill.
+</p>
+<p>“My dear, give me curtains at twelve pesos a yard, and you’ll see if I put on these
+rags!” retorted the goddess in pique. “Heavens! You can talk when you have done something
+fine like that to give you the right!”
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Basilio stood before the house, lost in the throng of curious spectators,
+counting those who alighted from their carriages. When he looked upon so many persons,
+happy and confident, when he saw the bride and groom followed by their train of fresh
+and innocent little girls, and reflected that they were going to meet there a horrible
+death, he was sorry and felt his hatred waning within him. He wanted to save so many
+innocents, he thought of notifying the police, but a carriage drove up to set down
+Padre Salvi and Padre Irene, both beaming with content, and like a passing cloud his
+good intentions vanished. “What does it matter to me?” he asked himself. “Let the
+righteous suffer with the sinners.”
+</p>
+<p>Then he added, to silence his scruples: “I’m not an informer, I mustn’t abuse the
+confidence he has placed in me. I owe him, <i>him</i> more than I do <i>them</i>: he dug my mother’s grave, they killed her! What have I to do with them? I did everything
+possible to be good and useful, I tried to forgive and forget, I suffered every imposition,
+and only asked that they leave me in peace. I got in no one’s way. What have they
+done to me? Let their mangled limbs fly through the air! We’ve suffered enough.”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4897">[<a href="#xd32e4897">329</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Then he saw Simoun alight with the terrible lamp in his hands, saw him cross the entrance
+with bowed head, as though deep in thought. Basilio felt his heart beat fainter, his
+feet and hands turn cold, while the black silhouette of the jeweler assumed fantastic
+shapes enveloped in flames. There at the foot of the stairway Simoun checked his steps,
+as if in doubt, and Basilio held his breath. But the hesitation was transient—Simoun
+raised his head, resolutely ascended the stairway, and disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>It then seemed to the student that the house was going to blow up at any moment, and
+that walls, lamps, guests, roof, windows, orchestra, would be hurtling through the
+air like a handful of coals in the midst of an infernal explosion. He gazed about
+him and fancied that he saw corpses in place of idle spectators, he saw them torn
+to shreds, it seemed to him that the air was filled with flames, but his calmer self
+triumphed over this transient hallucination, which was due somewhat to his hunger.
+</p>
+<p>“Until he comes out, there’s no danger,” he said to himself. “The Captain-General
+hasn’t arrived yet.”
+</p>
+<p>He tried to appear calm and control the convulsive trembling in his limbs, endeavoring
+to divert his thoughts to other things. Something within was ridiculing him, saying,
+“If you tremble now, before the supreme moment, how will you conduct yourself when
+you see blood flowing, houses burning, and bullets whistling?”
+</p>
+<p>His Excellency arrived, but the young man paid no attention to him. He was watching
+the face of Simoun, who was among those that descended to receive him, and he read
+in that implacable countenance the sentence of death for all those men, so that fresh
+terror seized upon him. He felt cold, he leaned against the wall, and, with his eyes
+fixed on the windows and his ears cocked, tried to guess what might be happening.
+In the sala he saw the crowd surround Simoun to look at the lamp, he heard congratulations
+and exclamations of admiration—the words “dining-room,” “novelty,” were repeated many
+times—he saw <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4904">[<a href="#xd32e4904">330</a>]</span>the General smile and conjectured that the novelty was to be exhibited that very night,
+by the jeweler’s arrangement, on the table whereat his Excellency was to dine. Simoun
+disappeared, followed by a crowd of admirers.
+</p>
+<p>At that supreme moment his good angel triumphed, he forgot his hatreds, he forgot
+Juli, he wanted to save the innocent. Come what might, he would cross the street and
+try to enter. But Basilio had forgotten that he was miserably dressed. The porter
+stopped him and accosted him roughly, and finally, upon his insisting, threatened
+to call the police.
+</p>
+<p>Just then Simoun came down, slightly pale, and the porter turned from Basilio to salute
+the jeweler as though he had been a saint passing. Basilio realized from the expression
+of Simoun’s face that he was leaving the fated house forever, that the lamp was lighted.
+<i>Alea jacta est!</i> Seized by the instinct of self-preservation, he thought then of saving himself. It
+might occur to any of the guests through curiosity to tamper with the wick and then
+would come the explosion to overwhelm them all. Still he heard Simoun say to the cochero,
+“The Escolta, hurry!”
+</p>
+<p>Terrified, dreading that he might at any moment hear the awful explosion, Basilio
+hurried as fast as his legs would carry him to get away from the accursed spot, but
+his legs seemed to lack the necessary agility, his feet slipped on the sidewalk as
+though they were moving but not advancing. The people he met blocked the way, and
+before he had gone twenty steps he thought that at least five minutes had elapsed.
+</p>
+<p>Some distance away he stumbled against a young man who was standing with his head
+thrown back, gazing fixedly at the house, and in him he recognized Isagani. “What
+are you doing here?” he demanded. “Come away!”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani stared at him vaguely, smiled sadly, and again turned his gaze toward the
+open balconies, across which was revealed the ethereal silhouette of the bride clinging
+to the groom’s arm as they moved slowly out of sight.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4916">[<a href="#xd32e4916">331</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Come, Isagani, let’s get away from that house. Come!” Basilio urged in a hoarse voice,
+catching his friend by the arm.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani gently shook himself free and continued to stare with the same sad smile upon
+his lips.
+</p>
+<p>“For God’s sake, let’s get away from here!”
+</p>
+<p>“Why should I go away? Tomorrow it will not be she.”
+</p>
+<p>There was so much sorrow in those words that Basilio for a moment forgot his own terror.
+“Do you want to die?” he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani shrugged his shoulders and continued to gaze toward the house.
+</p>
+<p>Basilio again tried to drag him away. “Isagani, Isagani, listen to me! Let’s not waste
+any time! That house is mined, it’s going to blow up at any moment, by the least imprudent
+act, the least curiosity! Isagani, all will perish in its ruins.”
+</p>
+<p>“In its ruins?” echoed Isagani, as if trying to understand, but without removing his
+gaze from the window.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, in its ruins, yes, Isagani! For God’s sake, come! I’ll explain afterwards. Come!
+One who has been more unfortunate than either you or I has doomed them all. Do you
+see that white, clear light, like an electric lamp, shining from the azotea? It’s
+the light of death! A lamp charged with dynamite, in a mined dining-room, will burst
+and not a rat will escape alive. Come!”
+</p>
+<p>“No,” answered Isagani, shaking his head sadly. “I want to stay here, I want to see
+her for the last time. Tomorrow, you see, she will be something different.”
+</p>
+<p>“Let fate have its way!” Basilio then exclaimed, hurrying away.
+</p>
+<p>Isagani watched his friend rush away with a precipitation that indicated real terror,
+but continued to stare toward the charmed window, like the cavalier of Toggenburg
+waiting for his sweetheart to appear, as Schiller tells. Now the sala was deserted,
+all having repaired to the dining-rooms, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4931">[<a href="#xd32e4931">332</a>]</span>and it occurred to Isagani that Basilio’s fears may have been well-founded. He recalled
+the terrified countenance of him who was always so calm and composed, and it set him
+to thinking.
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly an idea appeared clear in his imagination—the house was going to blow up
+and Paulita was there, Paulita was going to die a frightful death. In the presence
+of this idea everything was forgotten: jealousy, suffering, mental torture, and the
+generous youth thought only of his love. Without reflecting, without hesitation, he
+ran toward the house, and thanks to his stylish clothes and determined mien, easily
+secured admittance.
+</p>
+<p>While these short scenes were occurring in the street, in the dining-kiosk of the
+greater gods there was passed from hand to hand a piece of parchment on which were
+written in red ink these fateful words:
+</p>
+<div class="lgouter">
+<p class="line"><i>Mene, Tekel, Phares</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4938src" href="#xd32e4938">2</a>
+</p>
+<p class="line"><i>Juan Crisostomo Ibarra</i></p>
+</div>
+<p class="first">“Juan Crisostomo Ibarra? Who is he?” asked his Excellency, handing the paper to his
+neighbor.
+</p>
+<p>“A joke in very bad taste!” exclaimed Don Custodio. “To sign the name of a filibuster
+dead more than ten years!”
+</p>
+<p>“A filibuster!”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s a seditious joke!”
+</p>
+<p>“There being ladies present—”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Irene looked around for the joker and saw Padre Salvi, who was seated at the
+right of the Countess, turn as white as his napkin, while he stared at the mysterious
+words with bulging eyes. The scene of the sphinx recurred to him.
+</p>
+<p>“What’s the matter, Padre Salvi?” he asked. “Do you recognize your friend’s signature?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Salvi did not reply. He made an effort to speak <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4953">[<a href="#xd32e4953">333</a>]</span>and without being conscious of what he was doing wiped his forehead with his napkin.
+</p>
+<p>“What has happened to your Reverence?”
+</p>
+<p>“It is his very handwriting!” was the whispered reply in a scarcely perceptible voice.
+“It’s the very handwriting of Ibarra.” Leaning against the back of his chair, he let
+his arms fall as though all strength had deserted him.
+</p>
+<p>Uneasiness became converted into fright, they all stared at one another without uttering
+a single word. His Excellency started to rise, but apprehending that such a move would
+be ascribed to fear, controlled himself and looked about him. There were no soldiers
+present, even the waiters were unknown to him.
+</p>
+<p>“Let’s go on eating, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “and pay no attention to the joke.”
+But his voice, instead of reassuring, increased the general uneasiness, for it trembled.
+</p>
+<p>“I don’t suppose that that <i>Mene, Tekel, Phares</i>, means that we’re to be assassinated tonight?” speculated Don Custodio.
+</p>
+<p>All remained motionless, but when he added, “Yet they might poison us,” they leaped
+up from their chairs.
+</p>
+<p>The light, meanwhile, had begun slowly to fade. “The lamp is going out,” observed
+the General uneasily. “Will you turn up the wick, Padre Irene?”
+</p>
+<p>But at that instant, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, a figure rushed in,
+overturning a chair and knocking a servant down, and in the midst of the general surprise
+seized the lamp, rushed to the azotea, and threw it into the river. The whole thing
+happened in a second and the dining-kiosk was left in darkness.
+</p>
+<p>The lamp had already struck the water before the servants could cry out, “Thief, thief!”
+and rush toward the azotea. “A revolver!” cried one of them. “A revolver, quick! After
+the thief!”
+</p>
+<p>But the figure, more agile than they, had already mounted the balustrade and before
+a light could be brought, precipitated itself into the river, striking the water with
+a loud splash.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4970">[<a href="#xd32e4970">334</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4876">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4876src">1</a></span> Spanish etiquette requires a host to welcome his guest with the conventional phrase:
+“The house belongs to you.”—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4876src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4938">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4938src">2</a></span> The handwriting on the wall at Belshazzar’s feast, foretelling the destruction of
+Babylon. Daniel, v, 25–28.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4938src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch36" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e566">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVI</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Ben-Zayb’s Afflictions</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">Immediately upon hearing of the incident, after lights had been brought and the scarcely
+dignified attitudes of the startled gods revealed, Ben-Zayb, filled with holy indignation,
+and with the approval of the press-censor secured beforehand, hastened home—an entresol
+where he lived in a mess with others—to write an article that would be the sublimest
+ever penned under the skies of the Philippines. The Captain-General would leave disconsolate
+if he did not first enjoy his dithyrambs, and this Ben-Zayb, in his kindness of heart,
+could not allow. Hence he sacrificed the dinner and ball, nor did he sleep that night.
+</p>
+<p>Sonorous exclamations of horror, of indignation, to fancy that the world was smashing
+to pieces and the stars, the eternal stars, were clashing together! Then a mysterious
+introduction, filled with allusions, veiled hints, then an account of the affair,
+and the final peroration. He multiplied the flourishes and exhausted all his euphemisms
+in describing the drooping shoulders and the tardy baptism of salad his Excellency
+had received on his Olympian brow, he eulogized the agility with which the General
+had recovered a vertical position, placing his head where his legs had been, and vice
+versa, then intoned a hymn to Providence for having so solicitously guarded those
+sacred bones. The paragraph turned out to be so perfect that his Excellency appeared
+as a hero, and fell higher, as Victor Hugo said.
+</p>
+<p>He wrote, erased, added, and polished, so that, without wanting in veracity—this was
+his special merit as a <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4979">[<a href="#xd32e4979">335</a>]</span>journalist—the whole would be an epic, grand for the seven gods, cowardly and base
+for the unknown thief, “who had executed himself, terror-stricken, and in the very
+act convinced of the enormity of his crime.”
+</p>
+<p>He explained Padre Irene’s act of plunging under the table as “an impulse of innate
+valor, which the habit of a God of peace and gentleness, worn throughout a whole life,
+had been unable to extinguish,” for Padre Irene had tried to hurl himself upon the
+thief and had taken a straight course along the submensal route. In passing, he spoke
+of submarine passages, mentioned a project of Don Custodio’s, called attention to
+the liberal education and wide travels of the priest. Padre Salvi’s swoon was the
+excessive sorrow that took possession of the virtuous Franciscan to see the little
+fruit borne among the Indians by his pious sermons, while the immobility and fright
+of the other guests, among them the Countess, who “sustained” Padre Salvi (she grabbed
+him), were the serenity and sang-froid of heroes, inured to danger in the performance
+of their duties, beside whom the Roman senators surprised by the Gallic invaders were
+nervous schoolgirls frightened at painted cockroaches.
+</p>
+<p>Afterwards, to form a contrast, the picture of the thief: fear, madness, confusion,
+the fierce look, the distorted features, and—force of moral superiority in the race—his
+religious awe to see assembled there such august personages! Here came in opportunely
+a long imprecation, a harangue, a diatribe against the perversion of good customs,
+hence the necessity of a permanent military tribunal, “a declaration of martial law
+within the limits already so declared, special legislation, energetic and repressive,
+because it is in every way needful, it is of imperative importance to impress upon
+the malefactors and criminals that if the heart is generous and paternal for those
+who are submissive and obedient to the law, the hand is strong, firm, inexorable,
+hard, and severe for those who against all reason fail to respect it and who insult
+the sacred institutions of the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4984">[<a href="#xd32e4984">336</a>]</span>fatherland. Yes, gentlemen, this is demanded not only for the welfare of these islands,
+not only for the welfare of all mankind, but also in the name of Spain, the honor
+of the Spanish name, the prestige of the Iberian people, because before all things
+else Spaniards we are, and the flag of Spain,” etc.
+</p>
+<p>He terminated the article with this farewell: “Go in peace, gallant warrior, you who
+with expert hand have guided the destinies of this country in such calamitous times!
+Go in peace to breathe the balmy breezes of Manzanares!<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4988src" href="#xd32e4988">1</a> We shall remain here like faithful sentinels to venerate your memory, to admire your
+wise dispositions, to avenge the infamous attempt upon your splendid gift, which we
+will recover even if we have to dry up the seas! Such a precious relic will be for
+this country an eternal monument to your splendor, your presence of mind, your gallantry!”
+</p>
+<p>In this rather confused way he concluded the article and before dawn sent it to the
+printing-office, of course with the censor’s permit. Then he went to sleep like Napoleon,
+after he had arranged the plan for the battle of Jena.
+</p>
+<p>But at dawn he was awakened to have the sheets of copy returned with a note from the
+editor saying that his Excellency had positively and severely forbidden any mention
+of the affair, and had further ordered the denial of any versions and comments that
+might get abroad, discrediting them as exaggerated rumors.
+</p>
+<p>To Ben-Zayb this blow was the murder of a beautiful and sturdy child, born and nurtured
+with such great pain and fatigue. Where now hurl the Catilinarian pride, the splendid
+exhibition of warlike crime-avenging materials? And to think that within a month or
+two he was going to leave the Philippines, and the article could not be published
+in Spain, since how could he say those things about the criminals of Madrid, where
+other ideas prevailed, where <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e4995">[<a href="#xd32e4995">337</a>]</span>extenuating circumstances were sought, where facts were weighed, where there were
+juries, and so on? Articles such as his were like certain poisonous rums that are
+manufactured in Europe, good enough to be sold among the negroes, <i>good for negroes</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e4999src" href="#xd32e4999">2</a> with the difference that if the negroes did not drink them they would not be destroyed,
+while Ben-Zayb’s articles, whether the Filipinos read them or not, had their effect.
+</p>
+<p>“If only some other crime might be committed today or tomorrow,” he mused.
+</p>
+<p>With the thought of that child dead before seeing the light, those frozen buds, and
+feeling his eyes fill with tears, he dressed himself to call upon the editor. But
+the editor shrugged his shoulders; his Excellency had forbidden it because if it should
+be divulged that seven of the greater gods had let themselves be surprised and robbed
+by a nobody, while they brandished knives and forks, that would endanger the integrity
+of the fatherland! So he had ordered that no search be made for the lamp or the thief,
+and had recommended to his successors that they should not run the risk of dining
+in any private house, without being surrounded by halberdiers and guards. As those
+who knew anything about the events that night in Don Timoteo’s house were for the
+most part military officials and government employees, it was not difficult to suppress
+the affair in public, for it concerned the integrity of the fatherland. Before this
+name Ben-Zayb bowed his head heroically, thinking about Abraham, Guzman El Bueno,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e5006src" href="#xd32e5006">3</a> or at least, Brutus and other heroes of antiquity.
+</p>
+<p>Such a sacrifice could not remain unrewarded, the gods of journalism being pleased
+with Abraham Ben-Zayb. Almost upon the hour came the reporting angel bearing the sacrificial
+lamb in the shape of an assault committed at a country-house on the Pasig, where certain
+friars were <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5011">[<a href="#xd32e5011">338</a>]</span>spending the heated season. Here was his opportunity and Ben-Zayb praised his gods.
+</p>
+<p>“The robbers got over two thousand pesos, leaving badly wounded one friar and two
+servants. The curate defended himself as well as he could behind a chair, which was
+smashed in his hands.”
+</p>
+<p>“Wait, wait!” said Ben-Zayb, taking notes. “Forty or fifty outlaws traitorously—revolvers,
+bolos, shotguns, pistols—lion at bay—chair—splinters flying—barbarously wounded—ten
+thousand pesos!”
+</p>
+<p>So great was his enthusiasm that he was not content with mere reports, but proceeded
+in person to the scene of the crime, composing on the road a Homeric description of
+the fight. A harangue in the mouth of the leader? A scornful defiance on the part
+of the priest? All the metaphors and similes applied to his Excellency, Padre Irene,
+and Padre Salvi would exactly fit the wounded friar and the description of the thief
+would serve for each of the outlaws. The imprecation could be expanded, since he could
+talk of religion, of the faith, of charity, of the ringing of bells, of what the Indians
+owed to the friars, he could get sentimental and melt into Castelarian<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e5017src" href="#xd32e5017">4</a> epigrams and lyric periods. The señoritas of the city would read the article and
+murmur, “Ben-Zayb, bold as a lion and tender as a lamb!”
+</p>
+<p>But when he reached the scene, to his great astonishment he learned that the wounded
+friar was no other than Padre Camorra, sentenced by his Provincial to expiate in the
+pleasant country-house on the banks of the Pasig his pranks in Tiani. He had a slight
+scratch on his hand and a bruise on his head received from flattening himself out
+on the floor. The robbers numbered three or four, armed only with bolos, the sum stolen
+fifty pesos!
+</p>
+<p>“It won’t do!” exclaimed Ben-Zayb. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
+</p>
+<p>“How don’t I know, <i>puñales?</i>”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5026">[<a href="#xd32e5026">339</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“Don’t be a fool—the robbers must have numbered more.”
+</p>
+<p>“You ink-slinger—”
+</p>
+<p>So they had quite an altercation. What chiefly concerned Ben-Zayb was not to throw
+away the article, to give importance to the affair, so that he could use the peroration.
+</p>
+<p>But a fearful rumor cut short their dispute. The robbers caught had made some important
+revelations. One of the outlaws under <i>Matanglawin</i> (Cabesang Tales) had made an appointment with them to join his band in Santa Mesa,
+thence to sack the conventos and houses of the wealthy. They would be guided by a
+Spaniard, tall and sunburnt, with white hair, who said that he was acting under the
+orders of the General, whose great friend he was, and they had been further assured
+that the artillery and various regiments would join them, wherefore they were to entertain
+no fear at all. The tulisanes would be pardoned and have a third part of the booty
+assigned to them. The signal was to have been a cannon-shot, but having waited for
+it in vain the tulisanes, thinking themselves deceived, separated, some going back
+to their homes, some returning to the mountains vowing vengeance on the Spaniard,
+who had thus failed twice to keep his word. Then they, the robbers caught, had decided
+to do something on their own account, attacking the country-house that they found
+closest at hand, resolving religiously to give two-thirds of the booty to the Spaniard
+with white hair, if perchance he should call upon them for it.
+</p>
+<p>The description being recognized as that of Simoun, the declaration was received as
+an absurdity and the robber subjected to all kinds of tortures, including the electric
+machine, for his impious blasphemy. But news of the disappearance of the jeweler having
+attracted the attention of the whole Escolta, and the sacks of powder and great quantities
+of cartridges having been discovered in his house, the story began to wear an appearance
+of truth. Mystery began to enwrap the affair, enveloping it in clouds; there <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5037">[<a href="#xd32e5037">340</a>]</span>were whispered conversations, coughs, suspicious looks, suggestive comments, and trite
+second-hand remarks. Those who were on the inside were unable to get over their astonishment,
+they put on long faces, turned pale, and but little was wanting for many persons to
+lose their minds in realizing certain things that had before passed unnoticed.
+</p>
+<p>“We’ve had a narrow escape! Who would have said—”
+</p>
+<p>In the afternoon Ben-Zayb, his pockets filled with revolvers and cartridges, went
+to see Don Custodio, whom he found hard at work over a project against American jewelers.
+In a hushed voice he whispered between the palms of his hands into the journalist’s
+ear mysterious words.
+</p>
+<p>“Really?” questioned Ben-Zayb, slapping his hand on his pocket and paling visibly.
+</p>
+<p>“Wherever he may be found—” The sentence was completed with an expressive pantomime.
+Don Custodio raised both arms to the height of his face, with the right more bent
+than the left, turned the palms of his hands toward the floor, closed one eye, and
+made two movements in advance. “Ssh! Ssh!” he hissed.
+</p>
+<p>“And the diamonds?” inquired Ben-Zayb.
+</p>
+<p>“If they find him—” He went through another pantomime with the fingers of his right
+hand, spreading them out and clenching them together like the closing of a fan, clutching
+out with them somewhat in the manner of the wings of a wind-mill sweeping imaginary
+objects toward itself with practised skill. Ben-Zayb responded with another pantomime,
+opening his eyes wide, arching his eyebrows and sucking in his breath eagerly as though
+nutritious air had just been discovered.
+</p>
+<p>“Sssh!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5047">[<a href="#xd32e5047">341</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4988">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4988src">1</a></span> A town in Ciudad Real province, Spain.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4988src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e4999">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e4999src">2</a></span> The italicized words are in English in the original.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e4999src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e5006">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e5006src">3</a></span> A Spanish hero, whose chief exploit was the capture of Gibraltar from the Moors in
+1308.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e5006src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e5017">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e5017src">4</a></span> Emilio Castelar (1832–1899), generally regarded as the greatest of Spanish orators.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e5017src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch37" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e576">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">The Mystery</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"></p>
+<blockquote lang="es">Todo se sabe</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>Notwithstanding so many precautions, rumors reached the public, even though quite
+changed and mutilated. On the following night they were the theme of comment in the
+house of Orenda, a rich jewel merchant in the industrious district of Santa Cruz,
+and the numerous friends of the family gave attention to nothing else. They were not
+indulging in cards, or playing the piano, while little Tinay, the youngest of the
+girls, became bored playing <i>chongka</i> by herself, without being able to understand the interest awakened by assaults, conspiracies,
+and sacks of powder, when there were in the seven holes so many beautiful cowries
+that seemed to be winking at her in unison and smiled with their tiny mouths half-opened,
+begging to be carried up to the <i>home</i>. Even Isagani, who, when he came, always used to play with her and allow himself
+to be beautifully cheated, did not come at her call, for Isagani was gloomily and
+silently listening to something Chichoy the silversmith was relating. Momoy, the betrothed
+of Sensia, the eldest of the daughters—a pretty and vivacious girl, rather given to
+joking—had left the window where he was accustomed to spend his evenings in amorous
+discourse, and this action seemed to be very annoying to the lory whose cage hung
+from the eaves there, the lory endeared to the house from its ability to greet everybody
+in the morning with marvelous phrases of love. Capitana Loleng, the energetic and
+intelligent Capitana Loleng, had her account-book open before her, but she <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5062">[<a href="#xd32e5062">342</a>]</span>neither read nor wrote in it, nor was her attention fixed on the trays of loose pearls,
+nor on the diamonds—she had completely forgotten herself and was all ears. Her husband
+himself, the great Capitan Toringoy,—a transformation of the name Domingo,—the happiest
+man in the district, without other occupation than to dress well, eat, loaf, and gossip,
+while his whole family worked and toiled, had not gone to join his coterie, but was
+listening between fear and emotion to the hair-raising news of the lank Chichoy.
+</p>
+<p>Nor was reason for all this lacking. Chichoy had gone to deliver some work for Don
+Timoteo Pelaez, a pair of earrings for the bride, at the very time when they were
+tearing down the kiosk that on the previous night had served as a dining-room for
+the foremost officials. Here Chichoy turned pale and his hair stood on end.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Nakú</i>!” he exclaimed, “sacks and sacks of powder, sacks of powder under the floor, in the
+roof, under the table, under the chairs, everywhere! It’s lucky none of the workmen
+were smoking.”
+</p>
+<p>“Who put those sacks of powder there?” asked Capitana Loleng, who was brave and did
+not turn pale, as did the enamored Momoy. But Momoy had attended the wedding, so his
+posthumous emotion can be appreciated: he had been near the kiosk.
+</p>
+<p>“That’s what no one can explain,” replied Chichoy. “Who would have any interest in
+breaking up the fiesta? There couldn’t have been more than one, as the celebrated
+lawyer Señor Pasta who was there on a visit declared—either an enemy of Don Timoteo’s
+or a rival of Juanito’s.”
+</p>
+<p>The Orenda girls turned instinctively toward Isagani, who smiled silently.
+</p>
+<p>“Hide yourself,” Capitana Loleng advised him. “They may accuse you. Hide!”
+</p>
+<p>Again Isagani smiled but said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>“Don Timoteo,” continued Chichoy, “did not know to <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5077">[<a href="#xd32e5077">343</a>]</span>whom to attribute the deed. He himself superintended the work, he and his friend Simoun,
+and nobody else. The house was thrown into an uproar, the lieutenant of the guard
+came, and after enjoining secrecy upon everybody, they sent me away. But—”
+</p>
+<p>“But—but—” stammered the trembling Momoy.
+</p>
+<p>“<i>Nakú!</i>” ejaculated Sensia, gazing at her fiancé and trembling sympathetically to remember
+that he had been at the fiesta. “This young man—If the house had blown up—” She stared
+at her sweetheart passionately and admired his courage.
+</p>
+<p>“If it had blown up—”
+</p>
+<p>“No one in the whole of Calle Anloague would have been left alive,” concluded Capitan
+Toringoy, feigning valor and indifference in the presence of his family.
+</p>
+<p>“I left in consternation,” resumed Chichoy, “thinking about how, if a mere spark,
+a cigarette had fallen, if a lamp had been overturned, at the present moment we should
+have neither a General, nor an Archbishop, nor any one, not even a government clerk!
+All who were at the fiesta last night—annihilated!”
+</p>
+<p>“<i lang="es">Vírgen Santísima!</i> This young man—”
+</p>
+<p>“<i>’Susmariosep!</i>” exclaimed Capitana Loleng. “All our debtors were there, <i>’Susmariosep!</i> And we have a house near there! Who could it have been?”
+</p>
+<p>“Now you may know about it,” added Chichoy in a whisper, “but you must keep it a secret.
+This afternoon I met a friend, a clerk in an office, and in talking about the affair,
+he gave me the clue to the mystery—he had it from some government employees. Who do
+you suppose put the sacks of powder there?”
+</p>
+<p>Many shrugged their shoulders, while Capitan Toringoy merely looked askance at Isagani.
+</p>
+<p>“The friars?”
+</p>
+<p>“Quiroga the Chinaman?”
+</p>
+<p>“Some student?”
+</p>
+<p>“Makaraig?”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5106">[<a href="#xd32e5106">344</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Capitan Toringoy coughed and glanced at Isagani, while Chichoy shook his head and
+smiled.
+</p>
+<p>“The jeweler Simoun.”
+</p>
+<p>“Simoun!!”
+</p>
+<p>The profound silence of amazement followed these words. Simoun, the evil genius of
+the Captain-General, the rich trader to whose house they had gone to buy unset gems,
+Simoun, who had received the Orenda girls with great courtesy and had paid them fine
+compliments! For the very reason that the story seemed absurd it was believed. “<i lang="la">Credo quia absurdum,</i>” said St. Augustine.
+</p>
+<p>“But wasn’t Simoun at the fiesta last night?” asked Sensia.
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” said Momoy. “But now I remember! He left the house just as we were sitting
+down to the dinner. He went to get his wedding-gift.”
+</p>
+<p>“But wasn’t he a friend of the General’s? Wasn’t he a partner of Don Timoteo’s?”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, he made himself a partner in order to strike the blow and kill all the Spaniards.”
+</p>
+<p>“Aha!” cried Sensia. “Now I understand!”
+</p>
+<p>“What?”
+</p>
+<p>“You didn’t want to believe Aunt Tentay. Simoun is the devil and he has bought up
+the souls of all the Spaniards. Aunt Tentay said so!”
+</p>
+<p>Capitana Loleng crossed herself and looked uneasily toward the jewels, fearing to
+see them turn into live coals, while Capitan Toringoy took off the ring which had
+come from Simoun.
+</p>
+<p>“Simoun has disappeared without leaving any traces,” added Chichoy. “The Civil Guard
+is searching for him.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes,” observed Sensia, crossing herself, “searching for the devil.”
+</p>
+<p>Now many things were explained: Simoun’s fabulous wealth and the peculiar smell in
+his house, the smell of sulphur. Binday, another of the daughters, a frank and lovely
+girl, remembered having seen blue flames in the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5128">[<a href="#xd32e5128">345</a>]</span>jeweler’s house one afternoon when she and her mother had gone there to buy jewels.
+Isagani listened attentively, but said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>“So, last night—” ventured Momoy.
+</p>
+<p>“Last night?” echoed Sensia, between curiosity and fear.
+</p>
+<p>Momoy hesitated, but the face Sensia put on banished his fear. “Last night, while
+we were eating, there was a disturbance, the light in the General’s dining-room went
+out. They say that some unknown person stole the lamp that was presented by Simoun.”
+</p>
+<p>“A thief? One of the Black Hand?”
+</p>
+<p>Isagani arose to walk back and forth.
+</p>
+<p>“Didn’t they catch him?”
+</p>
+<p>“He jumped into the river before anybody recognized him. Some say he was a Spaniard,
+some a Chinaman, and others an Indian.”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s believed that with the lamp,” added Chichoy, “he was going to set fire to the
+house, then the powder—”
+</p>
+<p>Momoy again shuddered but noticing that Sensia was watching him tried to control himself.
+“What a pity!” he exclaimed with an effort. “How wickedly the thief acted. Everybody
+would have been killed.”
+</p>
+<p>Sensia stared at him in fright, the women crossed themselves, while Capitan Toringoy,
+who was afraid of politics, made a move to go away.
+</p>
+<p>Momoy turned to Isagani, who observed with an enigmatic smile: “It’s always wicked
+to take what doesn’t belong to you. If that thief had known what it was all about
+and had been able to reflect, surely he wouldn’t have done as he did.”
+</p>
+<p>Then, after a pause, he added, “For nothing in the world would I want to be in his
+place!”
+</p>
+<p>So they continued their comments and conjectures until an hour later, when Isagani
+bade the family farewell, to return forever to his uncle’s side.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5145">[<a href="#xd32e5145">346</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch38" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e586">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXVIII</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Fatality</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"><i>Matanglawin</i> was the terror of Luzon. His band had as lief appear in one province where it was
+least expected as make a descent upon another that was preparing to resist it. It
+burned a sugar-mill in Batangas and destroyed the crops, on the following day it murdered
+the Justice of the Peace of Tiani, and on the next took possession of the town of
+Cavite, carrying off the arms from the town hall. The central provinces, from Tayabas
+to Pangasinan, suffered from his depredations, and his bloody name extended from Albay
+in the south to Kagayan in the north. The towns, disarmed through mistrust on the
+part of a weak government, fell easy prey into his hands—at his approach the fields
+were abandoned by the farmers, the herds were scattered, while a trail of blood and
+fire marked his passage. <i>Matanglawin</i> laughed at the severe measures ordered by the government against the tulisanes, since
+from them only the people in the outlying villages suffered, being captured and maltreated
+if they resisted the band, and if they made peace with it being flogged and deported
+by the government, provided they completed the journey and did not meet with a fatal
+accident on the way. Thanks to these terrible alternatives many of the country folk
+decided to enlist under his command.
+</p>
+<p>As a result of this reign of terror, trade among the towns, already languishing, died
+out completely. The rich dared not travel, and the poor feared to be arrested by the
+Civil Guard, which, being under obligation to pursue the tulisanes, often seized the
+first person encountered and subjected him to unspeakable tortures. In its impotence,
+the <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5157">[<a href="#xd32e5157">347</a>]</span>government put on a show of energy toward the persons whom it suspected, in order
+that by force of cruelty the people should not realize its weakness—the fear that
+prompted such measures.
+</p>
+<p>A string of these hapless suspects, some six or seven, with their arms tied behind
+them, bound together like a bunch of human meat, was one afternoon marching through
+the excessive heat along a road that skirted a mountain, escorted by ten or twelve
+guards armed with rifles. Their bayonets gleamed in the sun, the barrels of their
+rifles became hot, and even the sage-leaves in their helmets scarcely served to temper
+the effect of the deadly May sun.
+</p>
+<p>Deprived of the use of their arms and pressed close against one another to save rope,
+the prisoners moved along almost uncovered and unshod, he being the best off who had
+a handkerchief twisted around his head. Panting, suffering, covered with dust which
+perspiration converted into mud, they felt their brains melting, they saw lights dancing
+before them, red spots floating in the air. Exhaustion and dejection were pictured
+in their faces, desperation, wrath, something indescribable, the look of one who dies
+cursing, of a man who is weary of life, who hates himself, who blasphemes against
+God. The strongest lowered their heads to rub their faces against the dusky backs
+of those in front of them and thus wipe away the sweat that was blinding them. Many
+were limping, but if any one of them happened to fall and thus delay the march he
+would hear a curse as a soldier ran up brandishing a branch torn from a tree and forced
+him to rise by striking about in all directions. The string then started to run, dragging,
+rolling in the dust, the fallen one, who howled and begged to be killed; but perchance
+he succeeded in getting on his feet and then went along crying like a child and cursing
+the hour he was born.
+</p>
+<p>The human cluster halted at times while the guards drank, and then the prisoners continued
+on their way with <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5163">[<a href="#xd32e5163">348</a>]</span>parched mouths, darkened brains, and hearts full of curses. Thirst was for these wretches
+the least of their troubles.
+</p>
+<p>“Move on, you sons of ——!” cried a soldier, again refreshed, hurling the insult common
+among the lower classes of Filipinos.
+</p>
+<p>The branch whistled and fell on any shoulder whatsoever, the nearest one, or at times
+upon a face to leave a welt at first white, then red, and later dirty with the dust
+of the road.
+</p>
+<p>“Move on, you cowards!” at times a voice yelled in Spanish, deepening its tone.
+</p>
+<p>“Cowards!” repeated the mountain echoes.
+</p>
+<p>Then the cowards quickened their pace under a sky of red-hot iron, over a burning
+road, lashed by the knotty branch which was worn into shreds on their livid skins.
+A Siberian winter would perhaps be tenderer than the May sun of the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p>Yet, among the soldiers there was one who looked with disapproving eyes upon so much
+wanton cruelty, as he marched along silently with his brows knit in disgust. At length,
+seeing that the guard, not satisfied with the branch, was kicking the prisoners that
+fell, he could no longer restrain himself but cried out impatiently, “Here, Mautang,
+let them alone!”
+</p>
+<p>Mautang turned toward him in surprise. “What’s it to you, Carolino?” he asked.
+</p>
+<p>“To me, nothing, but it hurts me,” replied Carolino. “They’re men like ourselves.”
+</p>
+<p>“It’s plain that you’re new to the business!” retorted Mautang with a compassionate
+smile. “How did you treat the prisoners in the war?”
+</p>
+<p>“With more consideration, surely!” answered Carolino.
+</p>
+<p>Mautang remained silent for a moment and then, apparently having discovered the reason,
+calmly rejoined, “Ah, it’s because they are enemies and fight us, while these—these
+are our own countrymen.”
+</p>
+<p>Then drawing nearer to Carolino he whispered, “How <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5179">[<a href="#xd32e5179">349</a>]</span>stupid you are! They’re treated so in order that they may attempt to resist or to
+escape, and then—bang!”
+</p>
+<p>Carolino made no reply.
+</p>
+<p>One of the prisoners then begged that they let him stop for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>“This is a dangerous place,” answered the corporal, gazing uneasily toward the mountain.
+“Move on!”
+</p>
+<p>“Move on!” echoed Mautang and his lash whistled.
+</p>
+<p>The prisoner twisted himself around to stare at him with reproachful eyes. “You are
+more cruel than the Spaniard himself,” he said.
+</p>
+<p>Mautang replied with more blows, when suddenly a bullet whistled, followed by a loud
+report. Mautang dropped his rifle, uttered an oath, and clutching at his breast with
+both hands fell spinning into a heap. The prisoner saw him writhing in the dust with
+blood spurting from his mouth.
+</p>
+<p>“Halt!” called the corporal, suddenly turning pale.
+</p>
+<p>The soldiers stopped and stared about them. A wisp of smoke rose from a thicket on
+the height above. Another bullet sang to its accompanying report and the corporal,
+wounded in the thigh, doubled over vomiting curses. The column was attacked by men
+hidden among the rocks above.
+</p>
+<p>Sullen with rage the corporal motioned toward the string of prisoners and laconically
+ordered, “Fire!”
+</p>
+<p>The wretches fell upon their knees, filled with consternation. As they could not lift
+their hands, they begged for mercy by kissing the dust or bowing their heads—one talked
+of his children, another of his mother who would be left unprotected, one promised
+money, another called upon God—but the muzzles were quickly lowered and a hideous
+volley silenced them all.
+</p>
+<p>Then began the sharpshooting against those who were behind the rocks above, over which
+a light cloud of smoke began to hover. To judge from the scarcity of their shots,
+the invisible enemies could not have more than three rifles. As they advanced firing,
+the guards sought cover behind <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5194">[<a href="#xd32e5194">350</a>]</span>tree-trunks or crouched down as they attempted to scale the height. Splintered rocks
+leaped up, broken twigs fell from trees, patches of earth were torn up, and the first
+guard who attempted the ascent rolled back with a bullet through his shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>The hidden enemy had the advantage of position, but the valiant guards, who did not
+know how to flee, were on the point of retiring, for they had paused, unwilling to
+advance; that fight against the invisible unnerved them. Smoke and rocks alone could
+be seen—not a voice was heard, not a shadow appeared; they seemed to be fighting with
+the mountain.
+</p>
+<p>“Shoot, Carolino! What are you aiming at?” called the corporal.
+</p>
+<p>At that instant a man appeared upon a rock, making signs with his rifle.
+</p>
+<p>“Shoot him!” ordered the corporal with a foul oath.
+</p>
+<p>Three guards obeyed the order, but the man continued standing there, calling out at
+the top of his voice something unintelligible.
+</p>
+<p>Carolino paused, thinking that he recognized something familiar about that figure,
+which stood out plainly in the sunlight. But the corporal threatened to tie him up
+if he did not fire, so Carolino took aim and the report of his rifle was heard. The
+man on the rock spun around and disappeared with a cry that left Carolino horror-stricken.
+</p>
+<p>Then followed a rustling in the bushes, indicating that those within were scattering
+in all directions, so the soldiers boldly advanced, now that there was no more resistance.
+Another man appeared upon the rock, waving a spear, and they fired at him. He sank
+down slowly, catching at the branch of a tree, but with another volley fell face downwards
+on the rock.
+</p>
+<p>The guards climbed on nimbly, with bayonets fixed ready for a hand-to-hand fight.
+Carolino alone moved forward reluctantly, with a wandering, gloomy look, the cry of
+the man struck by his bullet still ringing in his ears. The <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5206">[<a href="#xd32e5206">351</a>]</span>first to reach the spot found an old man dying, stretched out on the rock. He plunged
+his bayonet into the body, but the old man did not even wink, his eyes being fixed
+on Carolino with an indescribable gaze, while with his bony hand he pointed to something
+behind the rock.
+</p>
+<p>The soldiers turned to see Caroline frightfully pale, his mouth hanging open, with
+a look in which glimmered the last spark of reason, for Carolino, who was no other
+than Tano, Cabesang Tales’ son, and who had just returned from the Carolines, recognized
+in the dying man his grandfather, Tandang Selo. No longer able to speak, the old man’s
+dying eyes uttered a whole poem of grief—and then a corpse, he still continued to
+point to something behind the rock.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5210">[<a href="#xd32e5210">352</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="ch39" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd32e596">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="label">Chapter XXXIX</h2>
+<h2 class="main">Conclusion</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first">In his solitary retreat on the shore of the sea, whose mobile surface was visible
+through the open, windows, extending outward until it mingled with the horizon, Padre
+Florentino was relieving the monotony by playing on his harmonium sad and melancholy
+tunes, to which the sonorous roar of the surf and the sighing of the treetops of the
+neighboring wood served as accompaniments. Notes long, full, mournful as a prayer,
+yet still vigorous, escaped from the old instrument. Padre Florentino, who was an
+accomplished musician, was improvising, and, as he was alone, gave free rein to the
+sadness in his heart.
+</p>
+<p>For the truth was that the old man was very sad. His good friend, Don Tiburcio de
+Espadaña, had just left him, fleeing from the persecution of his wife. That morning
+he had received a note from the lieutenant of the Civil Guard, which ran thus:
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="first">MY DEAR CHAPLAIN,—I have just received from the commandant a telegram that says, “Spaniard
+hidden house Padre Florentino capture forward alive dead.” As the telegram is quite
+explicit, warn your friend not to be there when I come to arrest him at eight tonight.
+</p>
+<p>Affectionately,
+</p>
+<p class="signed">PEREZ
+</p>
+<p>Burn this note.</p>
+</blockquote><p>
+</p>
+<p>“T-that V-victorina!” Don Tiburcio had stammered. “S-she’s c-capable of having me
+s-shot!”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentino was unable to reassure him. Vainly he pointed out to him that the
+word <i>cojera</i> should have read <i>cogerá</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd32e5232src" href="#xd32e5232">1</a> and that the hidden Spaniard could not be Don <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5258">[<a href="#xd32e5258">353</a>]</span> Tiburcio, but the jeweler Simoun, who two days before had arrived, wounded and a
+fugitive, begging for shelter. But Don Tiburcio would not be convinced—<i>cojera</i> was his own lameness, his personal description, and it was an intrigue of Victorina’s
+to get him back alive or dead, as Isagani had written from Manila. So the poor Ulysses
+had left the priest’s house to conceal himself in the hut of a woodcutter.
+</p>
+<p>No doubt was entertained by Padre Florentino that the Spaniard wanted was the jeweler
+Simoun, who had arrived mysteriously, himself carrying the jewel-chest, bleeding,
+morose, and exhausted. With the free and cordial Filipino hospitality, the priest
+had taken him in, without asking indiscreet questions, and as news of the events in
+Manila had not yet reached his ears he was unable to understand the situation clearly.
+The only conjecture that occurred to him was that the General, the jeweler’s friend
+and protector, being gone, probably his enemies, the victims of wrong and abuse, were
+now rising and calling for vengeance, and that the acting Governor was pursuing him
+to make him disgorge the wealth he had accumulated—hence his flight. But whence came
+his wounds? Had he tried to commit suicide? Were they the result of personal revenge?
+Or were they merely caused by an accident, as Simoun claimed? Had they been received
+in escaping from the force that was pursuing him?
+</p>
+<p>This last conjecture was the one that seemed to have the greatest appearance of probability,
+being further strengthened by the telegram received and Simoun’s decided unwillingness
+from the start to be treated by the doctor from the capital. The jeweler submitted
+only to the ministrations of Don Tiburcio, and even to them with marked distrust.
+In this situation Padre Florentino was asking himself what <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5265">[<a href="#xd32e5265">354</a>]</span>line of conduct he should pursue when the Civil Guard came to arrest Simoun. His condition
+would not permit his removal, much less a long journey—but the telegram said alive
+or dead.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentine ceased playing and approached the window to gaze out at the sea,
+whose desolate surface was without a ship, without a sail—it gave him no suggestion.
+A solitary islet outlined in the distance spoke only of solitude and made the space
+more lonely. Infinity is at times despairingly mute.
+</p>
+<p>The old man was trying to analyze the sad and ironical smile with which Simoun had
+received the news that he was to be arrested. What did that smile mean? And that other
+smile, still sadder and more ironical, with which he received the news that they would
+not come before eight at night? What did all this mystery signify? Why did Simoun
+refuse to hide? There came into his mind the celebrated saying of St. John Chrysostom
+when he was defending the eunuch Eutropius: “Never was a better time than this to
+say—Vanity of vanities and all is vanity!”
+</p>
+<p>Yes, that Simoun, so rich, so powerful, so feared a week ago, and now more unfortunate
+than Eutropius, was seeking refuge, not at the altars of a church, but in the miserable
+house of a poor native priest, hidden in the forest, on the solitary seashore! Vanity
+of vanities and all is vanity! That man would within a few hours be a prisoner, dragged
+from the bed where he lay, without respect for his condition, without consideration
+for his wounds—dead or alive his enemies demanded him! How could he save him? Where
+could he find the moving accents of the bishop of Constantinople? What weight would
+his weak words have, the words of a native priest, whose own humiliation this same
+Simoun had in his better days seemed to applaud and encourage?
+</p>
+<p>But Padre Florentine no longer recalled the indifferent reception that two months
+before the jeweler had accorded to him when he had tried to interest him in favor
+of Isagani, <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5273">[<a href="#xd32e5273">355</a>]</span>then a prisoner on account of his imprudent chivalry; he forgot the activity Simoun
+had displayed in urging Paulita’s marriage, which had plunged Isagani into the fearful
+misanthropy that was worrying his uncle. He forgot all these things and thought only
+of the sick man’s plight and his own obligations as a host, until his senses reeled.
+Where must he hide him to avoid his falling into the clutches of the authorities?
+But the person chiefly concerned was not worrying, he was smiling.
+</p>
+<p>While he was pondering over these things, the old man was approached by a servant
+who said that the sick man wished to speak with him, so he went into the next room,
+a clean and well-ventilated apartment with a floor of wide boards smoothed and polished,
+and simply furnished with big, heavy armchairs of ancient design, without varnish
+or paint. At one end there was a large kamagon bed with its four posts to support
+the canopy, and beside it a table covered with bottles, lint, and bandages. A praying-desk
+at the feet of a Christ and a scanty library led to the suspicion that it was the
+priest’s own bedroom, given up to his guest according to the Filipino custom of offering
+to the stranger the best table, the best room, and the best bed in the house. Upon
+seeing the windows opened wide to admit freely the healthful sea-breeze and the echoes
+of its eternal lament, no one in the Philippines would have said that a sick person
+was to be found there, since it is the custom to close all the windows and stop up
+all the cracks just as soon as any one catches a cold or gets an insignificant headache.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentine looked toward the bed and was astonished to see that the sick man’s
+face had lost its tranquil and ironical expression. Hidden grief seemed to knit his
+brows, anxiety was depicted in his looks, his lips were curled in a smile of pain.
+</p>
+<p>“Are you suffering, Señor Simoun?” asked the priest solicitously, going to his side.
+</p>
+<p>“Some! But in a little while I shall cease to suffer,” he replied with a shake of
+his head.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5280">[<a href="#xd32e5280">356</a>]</span></p>
+<p>Padre Florentine clasped his hands in fright, suspecting that he understood the terrible
+truth. “My God, what have you done? What have you taken?” He reached toward the bottles.
+</p>
+<p>“It’s useless now! There’s no remedy at all!” answered Simoun with a pained smile.
+“What did you expect me to do? Before the clock strikes eight—alive or dead—dead,
+yes, but alive, no!”
+</p>
+<p>“My God, what have you done?”
+</p>
+<p>“Be calm!” urged the sick man with a wave of his hand. “What’s done is done. I must
+not fall into anybody’s hands—my secret would be torn from me. Don’t get excited,
+don’t lose your head, it’s useless! Listen—the night is coming on and there’s no time
+to be lost. I must tell you my secret, and intrust to you my last request, I must
+lay my life open before you. At the supreme moment I want to lighten myself of a load,
+I want to clear up a doubt of mine. You who believe so firmly in God—I want you to
+tell me if there is a God!”
+</p>
+<p>“But an antidote, Señor Simoun! I have ether, chloroform—”
+</p>
+<p>The priest began to search for a flask, until Simoun cried impatiently, “Useless,
+it’s useless! Don’t waste time! I’ll go away with my secret!”
+</p>
+<p>The bewildered priest fell down at his desk and prayed at the feet of the Christ,
+hiding his face in his hands. Then he arose serious and grave, as if he had received
+from his God all the force, all the dignity, all the authority of the Judge of consciences.
+Moving a chair to the head of the bed he prepared to listen.
+</p>
+<p>At the first words Simoun murmured, when he told his real name, the old priest started
+back and gazed at him in terror, whereat the sick man smiled bitterly. Taken by surprise,
+the priest was not master of himself, but he soon recovered, and covering his face
+with a handkerchief again bent over to listen.
+</p>
+<p>Simoun related his sorrowful story: how, thirteen years <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5292">[<a href="#xd32e5292">357</a>]</span>before, he had returned from Europe filled with hopes and smiling illusions, having
+come back to marry a girl whom he loved, disposed to do good and forgive all who had
+wronged him, just so they would let him live in peace. But it was not so. A mysterious
+hand involved him in the confusion of an uprising planned by his enemies. Name, fortune,
+love, future, liberty, all were lost, and he escaped only through the heroism of a
+friend. Then he swore vengeance. With the wealth of his family, which had been buried
+in a wood, he had fled, had gone to foreign lands and engaged in trade. He took part
+in the war in Cuba, aiding first one side and then another, but always profiting.
+There he made the acquaintance of the General, then a major, whose good-will he won
+first by loans of money, and afterwards he made a friend of him by the knowledge of
+criminal secrets. With his money he had been able to secure the General’s appointment
+and, once in the Philippines, he had used him as a blind tool and incited him to all
+kinds of injustice, availing himself of his insatiable lust for gold.
+</p>
+<p>The confession was long and tedious, but during the whole of it the confessor made
+no further sign of surprise and rarely interrupted the sick man. It was night when
+Padre Florentino, wiping the perspiration from his face, arose and began to meditate.
+Mysterious darkness flooded the room, so that the moonbeams entering through the window
+filled it with vague lights and vaporous reflections.
+</p>
+<p>Into the midst of the silence the priest’s voice broke sad and deliberate, but consoling:
+“God will forgive you, Señor—Simoun,” he said. “He knows that we are fallible, He
+has seen that you have suffered, and in ordaining that the chastisement for your faults
+should come as death from the very ones you have instigated to crime, we can see His
+infinite mercy. He has frustrated your plans one by one, the best conceived, first
+by the death of Maria Clara, then by a lack of preparation, then in some mysterious
+way. Let us bow to His will and render Him thanks!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5297">[<a href="#xd32e5297">358</a>]</span></p>
+<p>“According to you, then,” feebly responded the sick man, “His will is that these islands—”
+</p>
+<p>“Should continue in the condition in which they suffer?” finished the priest, seeing
+that the other hesitated. “I don’t know, sir, I can’t read the thought of the Inscrutable.
+I know that He has not abandoned those peoples who in their supreme moments have trusted
+in Him and made Him the Judge of their cause, I know that His arm has never failed
+when, justice long trampled upon and every recourse gone, the oppressed have taken
+up the sword to fight for home and wife and children, for their inalienable rights,
+which, as the German poet says, shine ever there above, unextinguished and inextinguishable,
+like the eternal stars themselves. No, God is justice, He cannot abandon His cause,
+the cause of liberty, without which no justice is possible.”
+</p>
+<p>“Why then has He denied me His aid?” asked the sick man in a voice charged with bitter
+complaint.
+</p>
+<p>“Because you chose means that He could not sanction,” was the severe reply. “The glory
+of saving a country is not for him who has contributed to its ruin. You have believed
+that what crime and iniquity have defiled and deformed, another crime and another
+iniquity can purify and redeem. Wrong! Hate never produces anything but monsters and
+crime criminals! Love alone realizes wonderful works, virtue alone can save! No, if
+our country has ever to be free, it will not be through vice and crime, it will not
+be so by corrupting its sons, deceiving some and bribing others, no! Redemption presupposes
+virtue, virtue sacrifice, and sacrifice love!”
+</p>
+<p>“Well, I accept your explanation,” rejoined the sick man, after a pause. “I have been
+mistaken, but, because I have been mistaken, will that God deny liberty to a people
+and yet save many who are much worse criminals than I am? What is my mistake compared
+to the crimes of our rulers? Why has that God to give more heed to my iniquity than
+to the cries of so many innocents? Why has He not stricken me down and then made the
+people triumph? Why <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5304">[<a href="#xd32e5304">359</a>]</span>does He let so many worthy and just ones suffer and look complacently upon their tortures?”
+</p>
+<p>“The just and the worthy must suffer in order that their ideas may be known and extended!
+You must shake or shatter the vase to spread its perfume, you must smite the rock
+to get the spark! There is something providential in the persecutions of tyrants,
+Señor Simoun!”
+</p>
+<p>“I knew it,” murmured the sick man, “and therefore I encouraged the tyranny.”
+</p>
+<p>“Yes, my friend, but more corrupt influences than anything else were spread. You fostered
+the social rottenness without sowing an idea. From this fermentation of vices loathing
+alone could spring, and if anything were born overnight it would be at best a mushroom,
+for mushrooms only can spring spontaneously from filth. True it is that the vices
+of the government are fatal to it, they cause its death, but they kill also the society
+in whose bosom they are developed. An immoral government presupposes a demoralized
+people, a conscienceless administration, greedy and servile citizens in the settled
+parts, outlaws and brigands in the mountains. Like master, like slave! Like government,
+like country!”
+</p>
+<p>A brief pause ensued, broken at length by the sick man’s voice. “Then, what can be
+done?”
+</p>
+<p>“Suffer and work!”
+</p>
+<p>“Suffer—work!” echoed the sick man bitterly. “Ah, it’s easy to say that, when you
+are not suffering, when the work is rewarded. If your God demands such great sacrifices
+from man, man who can scarcely count upon the present and doubts the future, if you
+had seen what I have, the miserable, the wretched, suffering unspeakable tortures
+for crimes they have not committed, murdered to cover up the faults and incapacity
+of others, poor fathers of families torn from their homes to work to no purpose upon
+highways that are destroyed each day and seem only to serve for sinking families into
+want. Ah, to suffer, to work, is the will of God! Convince them that their murder
+is their <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5314">[<a href="#xd32e5314">360</a>]</span>salvation, that their work is the prosperity of the home! To suffer, to work! What
+God is that?”
+</p>
+<p>“A very just God, Señor Simoun,” replied the priest. “A God who chastises our lack
+of faith, our vices, the little esteem in which we hold dignity and the civic virtues.
+We tolerate vice, we make ourselves its accomplices, at times we applaud it, and it
+is just, very just that we suffer the consequences, that our children suffer them.
+It is the God of liberty, Señor Simoun, who obliges us to love it, by making the yoke
+heavy for us—a God of mercy, of equity, who while He chastises us, betters us and
+only grants prosperity to him who has merited it through his efforts. The school of
+suffering tempers, the arena of combat strengthens the soul.
+</p>
+<p>“I do not mean to say that our liberty will be secured at the sword’s point, for the
+sword plays but little part in modern affairs, but that we must secure it by making
+ourselves worthy of it, by exalting the intelligence and the dignity of the individual,
+by loving justice, right, and greatness, even to the extent of dying for them,—and
+when a people reaches that height God will provide a weapon, the idols will be shattered,
+the tyranny will crumble like a house of cards and liberty will shine out like the
+first dawn.
+</p>
+<p>“Our ills we owe to ourselves alone, so let us blame no one. If Spain should see that
+we were less complaisant with tyranny and more disposed to struggle and suffer for
+our rights, Spain would be the first to grant us liberty, because when the fruit of
+the womb reaches maturity woe unto the mother who would stifle it! So, while the Filipino
+people has not sufficient energy to proclaim, with head erect and bosom bared, its
+rights to social life, and to guarantee it with its sacrifices, with its own blood;
+while we see our countrymen in private life ashamed within themselves, hear the voice
+of conscience roar in rebellion and protest, yet in public life keep silence or even
+echo the words of him who abuses them in order to mock the abused; while we see them
+wrap themselves up in their egotism and with a <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5320">[<a href="#xd32e5320">361</a>]</span>forced smile praise the most iniquitous actions, begging with their eyes a portion
+of the booty—why grant them liberty? With Spain or without Spain they would always
+be the same, and perhaps worse! Why independence, if the slaves of today will be the
+tyrants of tomorrow? And that they will be such is not to be doubted, for he who submits
+to tyranny loves it.
+</p>
+<p>“Señor Simoun, when our people is unprepared, when it enters the fight through fraud
+and force, without a clear understanding of what it is doing, the wisest attempts
+will fail, and better that they do fail, since why commit the wife to the husband
+if he does not sufficiently love her, if he is not ready to die for her?”
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentino felt the sick man catch and press his hand, so he became silent,
+hoping that the other might speak, but he merely felt a stronger pressure of the hand,
+heard a sigh, and then profound silence reigned in the room. Only the sea, whose waves
+were rippled by the night breeze, as though awaking from the heat of the day, sent
+its hoarse roar, its eternal chant, as it rolled against the jagged rocks. The moon,
+now free from the sun’s rivalry, peacefully commanded the sky, and the trees of the
+forest bent down toward one another, telling their ancient legends in mysterious murmurs
+borne on the wings of the wind.
+</p>
+<p>The sick man said nothing, so Padre Florentino, deeply thoughtful, murmured: “Where
+are the youth who will consecrate their golden hours, their illusions, and their enthusiasm
+to the welfare of their native land? Where are the youth who will generously pour
+out their blood to wash away so much shame, so much crime, so much abomination? Pure
+and spotless must the victim be that the sacrifice may be acceptable! Where are you,
+youth, who will embody in yourselves the vigor of life that has left our veins, the
+purity of ideas that has been contaminated in our brains, the fire of enthusiasm that
+has been quenched in our hearts? We await you, O youth! Come, for we await you!”
+</p>
+<p>Feeling his eyes moisten he withdrew his hand from that <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5328">[<a href="#xd32e5328">362</a>]</span>of the sick man, arose, and went to the window to gaze out upon the wide surface of
+the sea. He was drawn from his meditation by gentle raps at the door. It was the servant
+asking if he should bring a light.
+</p>
+<p>When the priest returned to the sick man and looked at him in the light of the lamp,
+motionless, his eyes closed, the hand that had pressed his lying open and extended
+along the edge of the bed, he thought for a moment that he was sleeping, but noticing
+that he was not breathing touched him gently, and then realized that he was dead.
+His body had already commenced to turn cold. The priest fell upon his knees and prayed.
+</p>
+<p>When he arose and contemplated the corpse, in whose features were depicted the deepest
+grief, the tragedy of a whole wasted life which he was carrying over there beyond
+death, the old man shuddered and murmured, “God have mercy on those who turned him
+from the straight path!”
+</p>
+<p>While the servants summoned by him fell upon their knees and prayed for the dead man,
+curious and bewildered as they gazed toward the bed, reciting requiem after requiem,
+Padre Florentino took from a cabinet the celebrated steel chest that contained Simoun’s
+fabulous wealth. He hesitated for a moment, then resolutely descended the stairs and
+made his way to the cliff where Isagani was accustomed to sit and gaze into the depths
+of the sea.
+</p>
+<p>Padre Florentino looked down at his feet. There below he saw the dark billows of the
+Pacific beating into the hollows of the cliff, producing sonorous thunder, at the
+same time that, smitten by the moonbeams, the waves and foam glittered like sparks
+of fire, like handfuls of diamonds hurled into the air by some jinnee of the abyss.
+He gazed about him. He was alone. The solitary coast was lost in the distance amid
+the dim cloud that the moonbeams played through, until it mingled with the horizon.
+The forest murmured unintelligible sounds.
+</p>
+<p>Then the old man, with an effort of his herculean arms, hurled the chest into space,
+throwing it toward the sea. It <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5336">[<a href="#xd32e5336">363</a>]</span>whirled over and over several times and descended rapidly in a slight curve, reflecting
+the moonlight on its polished surface. The old man saw the drops of water fly and
+heard a loud splash as the abyss closed over and swallowed up the treasure. He waited
+for a few moments to see if the depths would restore anything, but the wave rolled
+on as mysteriously as before, without adding a fold to its rippling surface, as though
+into the immensity of the sea a pebble only had been dropped.
+</p>
+<p>“May Nature guard you in her deep abysses among the pearls and corals of her eternal
+seas,” then said the priest, solemnly extending his hands. “When for some holy and
+sublime purpose man may need you, God will in his wisdom draw you from the bosom of
+the waves. Meanwhile, there you will not work woe, you will not distort justice, you
+will not foment avarice!”
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5340">[<a href="#xd32e5340">365</a>]</span></p>
+</div>
+<div class="footnotes">
+<hr class="fnsep">
+<div class="footnote-body">
+<div class="fndiv" id="xd32e5232">
+<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd32e5232src">1</a></span> In the original the message reads: <span lang="es">“Español escondido casa Padre Florentino cojera remitirá vivo muerto.”</span> Don Tiburcio understands <span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5237">[<a href="#xd32e5237">353</a>]</span><i lang="es">cojera</i> as referring to himself; there is a play upon the Spanish words <i lang="es">cojera</i>, lameness, and <i lang="es">cogerá</i>, a form of the verb <i lang="es">coger</i>, to seize or capture—<i>j</i> and <i>g</i> in these two words having the same sound, that of the English <i>h</i>.—Tr.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd32e5232src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="back">
+<div class="div1 glossary"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
+<h2 class="main">Glossary</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="divBody">
+<p class="first"><b>abá:</b> A Tagalog exclamation of wonder, surprise, etc., often used to introduce or emphasize
+a contradictory statement.
+</p>
+<p><b>alcalde:</b> Governor of a province or district, with both executive and judicial authority.
+</p>
+<p><b>Ayuntamiento:</b> A city corporation or council, and by extension the building in which it has its
+offices; specifically, in Manila, the capitol.
+</p>
+<p><b>balete:</b> The Philippine banyan, a tree sacred in Malay folk-lore.
+</p>
+<p><b>banka:</b> A dugout canoe with bamboo supports or outriggers.
+</p>
+<p><b>batalan:</b> The platform of split bamboo attached to a <b>nipa</b> house.
+</p>
+<p><b>batikúlin:</b> A variety of easily-turned wood, used in carving.
+</p>
+<p><b>bibinka:</b> A sweetmeat made of sugar or molasses and rice-flour, commonly sold in the small
+shops.
+</p>
+<p><b>buyera:</b> A woman who prepares and sells the <b>buyo</b>.
+</p>
+<p><b>buyo:</b> The masticatory prepared by wrapping a piece of areca-nut with a little shell-lime
+in a betel-leaf—the <b>pan</b> of British India.
+</p>
+<p><b>cabesang:</b> Title of a <b>cabeza de barangay;</b> given by courtesy to his wife also.
+</p>
+<p><b>cabeza de barangay:</b> Headman and tax-collector for a group of about fifty families, for whose “tribute”
+he was personally responsible.
+</p>
+<p><b>calesa:</b> A two-wheeled chaise with folding top.
+</p>
+<p><b>calle:</b> Street (Spanish).
+</p>
+<p><b>camisa:</b> 1. A loose, collarless shirt of transparent material worn by men outside the trousers.
+2. A thin, transparent waist with flowing sleeves, worn by women.
+</p>
+<p><b>capitan:</b> “Captain,” a title used in addressing or referring to a gobernadorcillo, or a former
+occupant of that office.
+</p>
+<p><b>carambas:</b> A Spanish exclamation denoting surprise or displeasure.
+</p>
+<p><b>carbineer:</b> Internal-revenue guard.
+</p>
+<p><b>carromata:</b> A small two-wheeled vehicle with a fixed top.
+</p>
+<p><b>casco:</b> A flat-bottomed freight barge.
+</p>
+<p><b>cayman:</b> The Philippine crocodile.
+</p>
+<p><b>cedula:</b> Certificate of registration and receipt for poll-tax.
+</p>
+<p><b>chongka:</b> A child’s game played with pebbles or cowry-shells.
+</p>
+<p><b>cigarrera:</b> A woman working in a cigar or cigarette factory.
+</p>
+<p><b>Civil Guard:</b> Internal quasi-military police force of Spanish officers and native soldiers.
+</p>
+<p><b>cochero:</b> Carriage driver, coachman.
+</p>
+<p><b>cuarto:</b> A copper coin, one hundred and sixty of which were equal in value to a silver peso.
+</p>
+<p><b>filibuster:</b> A native of the Philippines who was accused of advocating their separation from Spain.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5470">[<a href="#xd32e5470">366</a>]</span></p>
+<p><b>filibusterism:</b> See <b>filibuster</b>.
+</p>
+<p><b>gobernadorcillo:</b> “Petty governor,” the principal municipal official—also, in Manila, the head of a
+commercial guild.
+</p>
+<p><b>gumamela:</b> The hibiscus, common as a garden shrub in the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p id="glindian"><b>Indian:</b> The Spanish designation for the Christianized Malay of the Philippines was <b>indio</b> (Indian), a term used rather contemptuously, the name <b>Filipino</b> being generally applied in a restricted sense to the children of Spaniards born in
+the Islands.
+</p>
+<p><b>kalan:</b> The small, portable, open, clay fireplace commonly used in cooking.
+</p>
+<p><b>kalikut:</b> A short section of bamboo for preparing the <b>buyo</b>; a primitive betel-box.
+</p>
+<p><b>kamagon:</b> A tree of the ebony family, from which fine cabinet-wood is obtained. Its fruit is
+the <b>mabolo</b>, or date-plum.
+</p>
+<p><b>lanete:</b> A variety of timber used in carving.
+</p>
+<p><b>linintikan:</b> A Tagalog exclamation of disgust or contempt—“thunder!”
+</p>
+<p><b>Malacañang:</b> The palace of the Captain-General: from the vernacular name of the place where it
+stands, “fishermen’s resort.”
+</p>
+<p><b>Malecon:</b> A drive along the bay shore of Manila, opposite the Walled City.
+</p>
+<p><b>Mestizo:</b> A person of mixed Filipino and Spanish blood; sometimes applied also to a person
+of mixed Filipino and Chinese blood.
+</p>
+<p><b>nakú:</b> A Tagalog exclamation of surprise, wonder, etc.
+</p>
+<p><b>narra:</b> The Philippine mahogany.
+</p>
+<p><b>nipa:</b> Swamp palm, with the imbricated leaves of which the roofs and sides of the common
+native houses are constructed.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">novena:</b> A devotion consisting of prayers recited for nine consecutive days, asking for some
+special favor; also, a booklet of these prayers.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">panguingui:</b> A complicated card-game, generally for small stakes, played with a monte deck.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">panguinguera:</b> A woman addicted to <b>panguingui</b>, this being chiefly a feminine diversion in the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p><b>pansit:</b> A soup made of Chinese vermicelli.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">pansitería:</b> A shop where <b>pansit</b> is prepared and sold.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">pañuelo:</b> A starched neckerchief folded stiffly over the shoulders, fastened in front and falling
+in a point behind: the most distinctive portion of the customary dress of Filipino
+women.
+</p>
+<p><b>peso:</b> A silver coin, either the Spanish peso or the Mexican dollar, about the size of an
+American dollar and of approximately half its value.
+</p>
+<p><b>petate:</b> Sleeping-mat woven from palm leaves.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">piña:</b> Fine cloth made from pineapple-leaf fibers.
+</p>
+<p><b>Provincial:</b> The head of a religious order in the Philippines.
+</p>
+<p><b>puñales:</b> “Daggers!”
+</p>
+<p><b>querida:</b> A paramour, mistress: from the Spanish “beloved.”
+</p>
+<p><b>real:</b> One-eighth of a peso, twenty cuartos.
+</p>
+<p><b>sala:</b> The principal room in the more pretentious Philippine houses.
+</p>
+<p><b>salakot:</b> Wide hat of palm or bamboo, distinctively Filipino.
+</p>
+<p><b>sampaguita:</b> The Arabian jasmine: a small, white, very fragrant flower, extensively cultivated,
+and worn in chaplets and rosaries by women and girls—the typical Philippine flower.
+<span class="pageNum" id="xd32e5619">[<a href="#xd32e5619">367</a>]</span></p>
+<p><b>sipa</b>: A game played with a hollow ball of plaited bamboo or rattan, by boys standing in
+a circle, who by kicking it with their heels endeavor to keep it from striking the
+ground.
+</p>
+<p><b>soltada</b>: A bout between fighting-cocks.
+</p>
+<p><b>’Susmariosep</b>: A common exclamation: contraction of the Spanish, <b lang="es">Jesús, María, y José</b>, the Holy Family.
+</p>
+<p><b>tabi</b>: The cry used by carriage drivers to warn pedestrians.
+</p>
+<p><b>tabú</b>: A utensil fashioned from half of a coconut shell.
+</p>
+<p><b>tajú</b>: A thick beverage prepared from bean-meal and syrup.
+</p>
+<p><b>tampipi</b>: A telescopic basket of woven palm, bamboo, or rattan.
+</p>
+<p><b>Tandang</b>: A title of respect for an old man: from the Tagalog term for “old.”
+</p>
+<p><b>tapis</b>: A piece of dark cloth or lace, often richly worked or embroidered, worn at the waist
+somewhat in the fashion of an apron; a distinctive portion of the native women’s attire,
+especially among the Tagalogs.
+</p>
+<p><b>tatakut</b>: The Tagalog term for “fear.”
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">teniente-mayor</b>: “Senior lieutenant,” the senior member of the town council and substitute for the
+gobernadorcillo.
+</p>
+<p><b>tertiary sister</b>: A member of a lay society affiliated with a regular monastic order.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">tienda</b>: A shop or stall for the sale of merchandise.
+</p>
+<p><b>tikbalang</b>: An evil spirit, capable of assuming various forms, but said to appear usually as
+a tall black man with disproportionately long legs: the “bogey man” of Tagalog children.
+</p>
+<p><b lang="es">tulisan</b>: Outlaw, bandit. Under the old régime in the Philippines the <b lang="es">tulisanes</b> were those who, on account of real or fancied grievances against the authorities,
+or from fear of punishment for crime, or from an instinctive desire to return to primitive
+simplicity, foreswore life in the towns “under the bell,” and made their homes in
+the mountains or other remote places. Gathered in small bands with such arms as they
+could secure, they sustained themselves by highway robbery and the levying of black-mail
+from the country folk.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div class="transcriberNote">
+<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2>
+<h3 class="main">Availability</h3>
+<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
+Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a class="seclink xd32e34" title="External link" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>.
+</p>
+<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3>
+<table class="colophonMetadata">
+<tr>
+<td><b>Title:</b></td>
+<td>The Reign of Greed</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Author:</b></td>
+<td>José Rizal (1861–1896)</td>
+<td>Info <span class="externalUrl">https://viaf.org/viaf/41845763/</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Translator:</b></td>
+<td>Charles Derbyshire</td>
+<td>Info <span class="externalUrl">https://viaf.org/viaf/6883172/</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Publication date:</b></td>
+<td>2004-01-01</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>File generation date:</b></td>
+<td>2024-02-27 22:25:51 UTC</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Language:</b></td>
+<td>English</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td>
+<td>1912</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Keywords:</b></td>
+<td>Historical fiction</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b></b></td>
+<td>Philippines - History - 1812-1898 - Fiction</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>Project Gutenberg:</b></td>
+<td><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10676" class="seclink">10676</a></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>GitHub:</b></td>
+<td>10676-Rizal-The-Reign-of-Greed <span class="externalUrl">https://github.com/GutenbergSource/10676-Rizal-The-Reign-of-Greed</span></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><b>QR-code:</b></td>
+<td colspan="2"><img src="images/qr10676.png" alt="QR-code of Project Gutenberg URL" width="148" height="148"></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3>
+<ul>
+<li>2002-11-21: Added TEI tags.
+</li>
+<li>2010-04-27: Some changes to facilitate ePub generation.</li>
+</ul>
+<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3>
+<p>The following 3 corrections have been applied to the text:</p>
+<table class="correctionTable">
+<tr>
+<th>Page</th>
+<th>Source</th>
+<th>Correction</th>
+<th>Edit distance</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd32e740">10</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">he</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">he’s</td>
+<td class="bottom">2</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd32e752">11</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">slaping</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">slapping</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd32e1151">42</a></td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Bathazar</td>
+<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Balthazar</td>
+<td class="bottom">1</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10676 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:34:58 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 04:34:58 -0700
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