back to Dona Consolacion. "Don't think I am a provincial or a woman
of your class. With us, at Manila, the alferezas are not received;
they wait at the door."
"Ho! ho! most worshipful senora, the alferezas wait at the door! But
you receive such paralytics as this gentleman! Ha! ha! ha!"
Had she been less powdered Dona Victorina might have been seen to
blush. She started to rush on her enemy, but the sentinel stood in
the way. The street was filling with a curious crowd.
"Know that I demean myself in speaking to you; persons of position
like me ought not! Will you wash my clothes? I will pay you well. Do
you suppose I do not know you are a washerwoman?"
Dona Consolacion sat erect. To be called a washerwoman had wounded her.
"And do you think we don't know who you are?" she retorted. "My
husband has told me! Senora, I, at least----"
But she could not be heard. Dona Victorina, wildly shaking her fists,
screamed out:
"Come down, you old hussy, come down and let me tear your beautiful
eyes out!"
Rapidly the medusa disappeared from the window; more rapidly yet
she came running down the steps, brandishing her husband's terrible
whip. Don Tiburcio, supplicating both, threw himself between, but he
could not have prevented the combat, had not the alferez arrived.
"Well, well, senoras!--Don Tiburcio!"
"Give your wife a little more breeding, buy her more beautiful clothes,
and if you haven't the money, steal it from the people of the pueblo;
you have soldiers for that!" cried Dona Victorina.
"Senora," said the alferez, furious, "it is fortunate that I remember
you are a woman; if I didn't, I should trample you down, with all
your curls and ribbons!"
"Se--senor alferez!"
"Move on, charlatan! It's not you who wear the breeches!"
Armed with words and gestures, with cries, insults, and injuries,
the two women hurled at each other all there was in them of soil
and shame. All four talked at once, and in the multitude of words
numerous verities were paraded in the light. If they did not hear
all, the crowd of the curious did not fail to be diverted. They were
looking forward to battle, but, unhappily for these amateurs of sport,
the curate came by and established peace.
"Senoras! senoras! what a scandal! Senor alferez!"
"What are you doing here, hypocrite, carlist!"
"Don Tiburcio, take away your wife! Senora, restrain your tongue!"
Little by little the dictionary of sounding epithets became
exhausted. The shameless shrews found nothing left to say to each
other, and still threatening, the two couples drew slowly apart,
the curate going from one to the other, lavishing himself on both.
"We shall leave for Manila this very day and present ourselves to
the captain-general!" said the infuriated Dona Victorina to her
husband. "You are no man!"
"But--but, wife, the guards, and I am lame."
"You are to challenge him, with swords or pistols, or else--or
else----" And she looked at his teeth.
"Woman, I've never handled----"
Dona Victorina let him go no farther; with a sublime movement she
snatched out his teeth, threw them in the dust, and trampled them
under her feet. The doctor almost crying, the doctora pelting him
with sarcasms, they arrived at the house of Captain Tiago. Linares,
who was talking with Maria Clara, was no little disquieted by the
abrupt arrival of his cousins. Maria, amid the pillows of her fauteuil,
was not less surprised at the new physiognomy of her doctor.
"Cousin," said Dona Victorina, "you are to go and challenge the
alferez this instant; if not----"
"Why?" demanded the astonished Linares.
"You are to go and challenge him this instant; if not, I shall say
here, and to everybody, who you are."
"Dona Victorina!"
The three friends looked at each other.
"The alferez has insulted us. The old sorceress came down with a whip
to assault us, and this creature did nothing to prevent it! A man!"
"Hear that!" said Sinang regretfully. "There was a fight, and we
didn't see it!"
"The alferez broke the doctor's teeth!" added Dona Victorina.
Captain Tiago entered, but he wasn't given time to get his breath. In
few words, with an intermingling of spicy language, Dona Victorina
narrated what had passed, naturally trying to put herself in a
good light.
"Linares is going to challenge him, do you hear? Or don't let him
marry your daughter. If he isn't courageous, he doesn't merit Clarita."
"What! you are going to marry this gentleman?" Sinang asked Maria,
her laughing eyes filling with tears. "I know you are discreet,
but I didn't think you inconstant."
Maria Clara, white as alabaster, looked with great, frightened eyes
from her father to Dona Victorina, from Dona Victorina to Linares. The
young man reddened; Captain Tiago dropped his head.
"Help me to my room," Maria said to her friends, and steadied by
their round arms, her head on the shoulder of Victorina, she went out.
That night the husband and wife packed their trunks, and presented
their account--no trifle--to Captain Tiago. The next morning they
set out for Manila, leaving to the pacific Linares the role of avenger.
XXXIX.
THE OUTLAWED.
By the feeble moonlight that penetrates the thick foliage of forest
trees, a man was making his way through the woods. His movement was
slow but assured. From time to time, as if to get his bearings, he
whistled an air, to which another whistler in the distance replied
by repeating it.
At last, after struggling long against the many obstacles a virgin
forest opposes to the march of man, and most obstinately at night,
he arrived at a little clearing, bathed in the light of the moon in
its first quarter. Scarcely had he entered it when another man came
carefully out from behind a great rock, a revolver in his hand.
"Who are you?" he demanded with authority in Tagalo.
"Is old Pablo with you?" asked the newcomer tranquilly; "if so,
tell him Elias is searching for him."
"You are Elias?" said the other, with a certain respect, yet keeping
his revolver cocked. "Follow me!"
They penetrated a cavern, the guide warning the helmsman when to
lower his head, when to crawl on all fours. After a short passage
they arrived at a sort of room, dimly lighted by pitch torches, where
twelve or fifteen men, dirty, ragged, and sinister, were talking
low among themselves. His elbows resting on a stone, an old man of
sombre face sat apart, looking toward the smoky torches. It was a
cavern of tulisanes. When Elias arrived, the men started to rise,
but at a gesture from the old man they remained quiet, contenting
themselves with examining the newcomer.
"Is it thou, then?" said the old chief, his sad eyes lighting a little
at sight of the young man.
"And you are here!" exclaimed Elias, half to himself.
The old man bent his head in silence, making at the same time a sign
to the men, who rose and went out, not without taking the helmsman's
measure with their eyes.
"Yes," said the old man to Elias when they were alone, "six months ago
I gave you hospitality in my home; now it is I who receive compassion
from you. But sit down and tell me how you found me."
"As soon as I heard of your misfortunes," replied Elias slowly,
"I set out, and searched from mountain to mountain. I've gone over
nearly two provinces." After a short pause in which he tried to read
the old man's thoughts in his sombre face, he went on:
"I have come to make you a proposition. After vainly trying to find
some representative of the family which caused the ruin of my own,
I have decided to go North, and live among the savage tribes. Will
you leave this life you are beginning, and come with me? Let me be
a son to you?"
The old man shook his head.
"At my age," he said, "when one has taken a desperate resolution it
is final. When such a man as I, who passed his youth and ripe age
laboring to assure his future and that of his children, who submitted
always to the will of superiors, whose conscience is clear--when such
a man, almost on the border of the tomb, renounces all his past, it is
because after ripe reflection he concludes that there is no such thing
as peace. Why go to a strange land to drag out my miserable days? I
had two sons, a daughter, a home, a fortune. I enjoyed consideration
and respect; now I am like a tree stripped of its branches, bare and
desolate. And why? Because a man dishonored my daughter; because my
sons wished to seek satisfaction from this man, placed above other by
his office; because this man, fearing them, sought their destruction
and accomplished it. And I have survived; but if I did not know how
to defend my sons, I shall know how to avenge them. The day my band is
strong enough, I shall go down into the plain and wipe out my vengeance
and my life in fire! Either this day will come or there is no God!"
The old man rose, and, his eyes glittering, his voice cavernous,
he cried, fastening his hands in his long hair:
"Malediction, malediction upon me, who held the avenging hands of my
sons! I was their assassin!"
"I understand you," said Elias; "I too have a vengeance to satisfy;
and yet, from fear of striking the innocent, I choose to forego that."
"You can; you are young; you have not lost your last hope. I too,
I swear it, would not strike the innocent. You see this wound? I got
it rather than harm a cuadrillero who was doing his duty."
"And yet," said Elias, "if you carry out your purpose, you will bring
dreadful woes to our unhappy country. If with your own hands you
satisfy your vengeance, your enemies will take terrible reprisals--not
from you, not from those who are armed, but from the people, who are
always the ones accused. When I knew you in other days, you gave me
wise counsels: will you permit me----"
The old man crossed his arms and seemed to attend.
"Senor," continued Elias, "I have had the fortune to do a great service
to a young man, rich, kind of heart, upright, wishing the good of
his country. It is said he has relations at Madrid; of that I know
nothing, but I know he is the friend of the governor-general. What
do you think of interesting him in the cause of the miserable and
making him their voice?"
The old man shook his head.
"He is rich, you say. The rich think only of increasing their
riches. Not one of them would compromise his peace to go to the aid
of those who suffer. I know it, I who was rich myself."
"But he is not like the others. And he is a young man about to
marry, who wishes the tranquillity of his country for the sake of
his children's children."
"He is a man, then, who is going to be happy. Our cause is not that
of fortunate men."
"No, but it is that of men of courage!"
"True," said the old man, seating himself again. "Let us suppose
he consents to be our mouthpiece. Let us suppose he wins the
captain-general, and finds at Madrid deputies who can plead for us;
do you believe we shall have justice?"
"Let us try it before we try measures of blood," said Elias. "It must
surprise you that I, an outlaw too, and young and strong, propose
pacific measures. It is because I see the number of miseries which
we ourselves cause, as well as our tyrants. It is always the unarmed
who pay the penalty."
"And if nothing result from our steps?"
"If we are not heard, if our grievances are made light of, I shall
be the first to put myself under your orders."
The old man embraced Elias, a strange light in his eyes.
"I accept the proposition," he said; "I know you will keep your
word. I will help you to avenge your parents; you shall help me to
avenge my sons!"
"Meanwhile, senor, you will do nothing violent."
"And you will set forth the wrongs of the people; you know them. When
shall I have the response?"
"In four days send me a man to the lake shore of San Diego. I will
tell him the decision, and name the person on whom I count."
"Elias will be chief when Captain Pablo is fallen," said the old
man. And he himself accompanied the helmsman out of the cave.
XL.
THE ENIGMA.
The day after the departure of the doctor and the doctora, Ibarra
returned to the pueblo. He hastened to the house of Captain Tiago to
tell Maria he had been reconciled to the Church. Aunt Isabel, who was
fond of the young fellow, and anxious for his marriage with her niece,
was filled with joy. Captain Tiago was not at home.
"Come in!" Aunt Isabel cried in her bad Castilian. "Maria,
Crisostomo has returned to favor with the Church; the archbishop has
disexcommunicated him!"
But Crisostomo stood still, the smile froze on his lips, the words
he was to say to Maria fled from his mind. Leaning against the
balcony beside her was Linares; on the floor lay leafless roses and
sampagas. The Spaniard was making garlands with the flowers and
leaves from the vines; Maria Clara, buried in her fauteuil, pale
and thoughtful, was playing with an ivory fan, less white than her
slender hands.
At sight of Ibarra Linares paled, and carmine tinted the cheeks of
Maria Clara. She tried to rise, but was not strong enough; she lowered
her eyes and let her fan fall.
For some seconds there was an embarrassing silence; then Ibarra spoke.
"I have this moment arrived, and came straight here. You are better
than I thought you were."
One would have said Maria had become mute: her eyes still lowered,
she did not say a word in reply. Ibarra looked searchingly at Linares;
the timid young man bore the scrutiny with haughtiness.
"I see my arrival was not expected," he went on slowly. "Pardon me,
Maria, that I did not have myself announced. Some day I can explain
to you--for we shall still see each other--surely!"
At these last words the girl raised toward her fiance her beautiful
eyes full of purity and sadness, so suppliant and so sweet that Ibarra
stood still in confusion.
"May I come to-morrow?" he asked after a moment.
"You know that to me you are always welcome," she said in a weak voice.
Ibarra left, calm in appearance, but a tempest was in his brain and
freezing cold in his heart. What he had just seen and comprehended
seemed to him incomprehensible. Was it doubt, inconstancy, betrayal?
"Oh, woman!" he murmured.
Without knowing where he went, he arrived at the ground where the
school was going up. Senor Juan hailed him with delight, and showed
him what had been done since he went away.
With surprise Ibarra saw Elias among the workmen; the helmsman saluted
him, as did the others, and at the same time made him understand that
he had something to say to him.
"Senor Juan," said Ibarra, "will you bring me the list of
workmen?" Senor Juan disappeared, and Ibarra approached Elias, who
was lifting a great stone and loading it on a cart.
"If you can, senor," said the helmsman, "give me an hour of
conversation, there is something grave of which I want to talk with
you. Will you go on the lake early this evening in my boat?"
Ibarra gave a sign of assent and Elias moved away. Senor Juan brought
the list, but Ibarra searched it in vain for the name of the helmsman.
XLI.
THE VOICE OF THE PERSECUTED.
The sun was just setting when Ibarra stepped into the little boat on
the lake shore. He appeared disturbed.
"Pardon me, senor," said Elias, "for having asked this favor; I wished
to speak to you freely, with no possibility of listeners."
"And what have you to say?"
They had already shot away from the bank. The sun had disappeared
behind the crest of the mountains, and as twilight is of short
duration in this latitude, the night was descending rapidly, lighted
by a brilliant moon.
"Senor," replied Elias, "I am the spokesman of many unfortunates." And
briefly he told of his conversation with the chief of the tulisanes,
omitting the old man's doubts and threats.
"And they wish?" asked Ibarra, when he had finished.
"Radical reforms in the guard, the clergy, and the administration
of justice."
"Elias," said Ibarra, "I know little of you, but I believe you will
understand me when I say that though I have friends at Madrid whom
I might influence, and though I might interest the captain-general
in these people, neither they nor he could bring about such a
revolution. And more, I would not take a step in this direction,
because I believe what you want reformed is at present a necessary
evil."
"You also, senor, believe in necessary evil?" said Elias with a tremor
in his voice. "You think one must go through evil to arrive at good?"
"No; but I look at evil as a violent remedy we sometimes use to cure
ourselves of illness."
"It is a bad medicine, senor, that does away with the symptoms without
searching out the cause of the disease. The Municipal Guard exists
only to suppress crime by force and terrorizing."
"The institution may be imperfect, but the terror it inspires keeps
down the number of criminals."
"Rather say that this terror creates new criminals every day,"
said Elias. "There are those who have become tulisanes for life. A
first offence punished inhumanly, and the fear of further torture
separates them forever from society and condemns them to kill or to
be killed. The terrorism of the Municipal Guard shuts the doors of
repentance, and as a tulisan, defending himself in the mountains,
fights to much better advantage than the soldier he mocks, we cannot
remedy the evil we have made. Terrorism may serve when a people is
enslaved, and the mountains have no caverns; but when a desperate
man feels the strength of his arm, and anger possesses him, terrorism
cannot put out the fire for which it has itself heaped the fuel."
"You would seem to speak reasonably, Elias, if one had not already his
own convictions. But let me ask you, Who demand these reforms? You
know I except you, whom I cannot class with these others; but are
they not all criminals, or men ready to become so?"
"Go from pueblo to pueblo, senor, from house to house, and listen
to the stifled groanings, and you will find that if you think that,
you are mistaken."
"But the Government must have a body of unlimited power, to make
itself respected and its authority felt."
"It is true, senor, when the Government is at war with the country;
but is it not unfortunate that in times of peace the people should
be made to feel they are at strife with their rulers? If, however,
we prefer force to authority, we should at least be careful to whom
we give unlimited power. Such a force in the hands of men ignorant,
passionate, without moral training or tried honor, is a weapon
thrown to a madman in the middle of an unarmed crowd. I grant the
Government must have an arm, but let it choose this arm well; and
since it prefers the power it assumes to that the people might give
it, let it at least show that it knows how to assume it!"
Elias spoke with passion; his eyes were brilliant, his voice was
resonant. His words were followed by silence; the boat, no longer
driven forward by the oars, seemed motionless on the surface of the
lake; the moon shone resplendent in the sapphire sky; above the far
banks the stars glittered.
"And what else do they ask?"
"Reform of the religious orders,--they demand better protection----"
"Against the religious orders?"
"Against their oppression, senor."
"Do the Philippines forget the debt they owe those men who led them
out of error into the true faith? It is a pity we are not taught the
history of our country!"
"We must not forget this debt, no! But were not our nationality
and independence a dear price with which to cancel it? We have
also given the priests our best pueblos, our most fertile fields,
and we still give them our savings, for the purchase of all sorts of
religious objects. I realize that a pure faith and a veritable love
of humanity moved the first missionaries who came to our shores. I
acknowledge the debt we owe those noble men; I know that in those
days Spain abounded in heroes, of politics as well as religion. But
because the ancestors were true men, must we consent to the excesses
of their unworthy descendants? Because a great good has been done us,
may we not protest against being done a great wrong? The missionaries
conquered the country, it is true; but do you think it is through
the monks that Spain will keep the Philippines?"
"Yes, and through them only. It is the opinion of all those who have
written on the islands."
"Senor," said Elias in dejection, "I thank you for your patience. I
will take you back to the shore."
"No," said Ibarra, "go on; we should know which is right in so
important a question."
"You will excuse me, senor," said Elias, "I have not eloquence enough
to convince you. If I have some education, I am an Indian, and my
words would always be suspected. Those who have expressed opinions
contrary to mine are Spaniards, and as such disarm in advance all
contradiction. Besides, when I see that you, who love your country,
you, whose father sleeps below this calm water, you who have been
attacked and wronged yourself, have these opinions, I commence to doubt
my own convictions, I acknowledge that the people may be mistaken. I
must tell these unfortunates who have placed their confidence in men
to put it in God or in their own strength."
"Elias, your words hurt me, and make me, too, have doubts. I have not
grown up with the people, and cannot know their needs. I only know
what books have taught me. If I take your words with caution, it is
because I fear you may be prejudiced by your personal wrongs. If
I could know something of your story, perhaps it would alter my
judgment. I am mistrustful of theories, am guided rather by facts."
Elias thought a moment, then he said:
"If this is so, senor, I will briefly tell you my history."
XLII.
THE FAMILY OF ELIAS.
"It is about sixty years since my grandfather was employed as
accountant by a Spanish merchant. Although still young, he was married,
and had a son. One night the warehouse took fire, and was burned
with the surrounding property. The loss was great, incendiarism was
suspected, and my grandfather was accused. He had no money to pay
for his defence, and he was convicted and condemned to be publicly
flogged in the streets of his pueblo. Attached to a horse, he was
beaten as he passed each street corner by men, his brothers. The
curates, you know, advocate nothing but blows for the discipline
of the Indian. When the unhappy man, marked forever with infamy,
was liberated, his poor young wife went about seeking work to keep
alive her disabled husband and their little child. Failing in this,
she was forced to see them suffer, or to live herself a life of shame."
Ibarra rose to his feet.
"Oh, don't be disturbed! There was no longer honor or dishonor for
her or hers. When the husband's wounds were healed, they went to hide
themselves in the mountains, where they lived for a time, shunned
and feared. But my grandfather, less courageous than his wife, could
not endure this existence and hung himself. When his body was found,
by chance, my grandmother was accused for not reporting his death, and
was in turn condemned to be flogged; but in consideration of her state
her punishment was deferred. She gave birth to another son, unhappily
sound and strong; two months later her sentence was carried out. Then
she took her two children and fled into a neighboring province.
"The elder of the sons remembered that he had once been happy. As soon
as he was old enough he became a tulisan to avenge his wrongs, and
the name of Balat spread terror in many provinces. The younger son,
endowed by nature with a gentle disposition, stayed with his mother,
both living on the fruits of the forest and dressing in the cast-off
rags of those charitable enough to give. At length the famous Balat
fell into the hands of justice, and paid a dreadful penalty for
his crimes, to that society which had never done anything to teach
him better than to commit them. One morning the young brother, who
had been in the forest gathering fruits, came back to find the dead
body of his mother in front of their cabin, the horror-stricken eyes
staring upward; and following them with his own, the unhappy boy saw
suspended from a limb the bloody head of his brother."
"My God!" cried Ibarra.